Photo Day Redux

As with last year, we went to Photo Day again this year, and while it was again very fun, the presence of all the bandwagoners who hopped on after 21 Days meant that there were a lot more people there and we had a lot less time for actual conversations -- just chitchat. Also unlike last year, there was a definite sense of urgency for the players to get through all the crowds, instead of ambling along and taking their time like they were on June 2, 2007. But July 19, 2008 wasn't at all bad. We got photos of one or more of us with 15 of the guys, hitting up everyone we wanted and then some. Unfortunately, Greg Reynolds got demoted to AAA and Tulo was off on his most recent rehab assignment (enough with the injuries, bucko....) otherwise we would have gotten them too. But we DID get Atkins, Baker, Barmes, Buchholz, Cook, Corpas, Hawpe, Helton, Holliday, Iannetta, Jimenez, Smith, Spilborghs, Stewart, and Quintanilla, which I think you'll agree is not a bad haul. Also, as they did last year, the Rockies won the actual game 7-1, thanks to two RBIs each from Atkins and Quintanilla, along with sundry contributions from Torrealba (!) Hawpe, and Stewart. Not to be forgotten was Scott Podsednik's 4-for-5, 3-double night, which of course failed to win him another start today. It didn't matter, as the Rockies shockingly won 11-3 to finish off the four-game sweep of the Pirates. Winning at home has never been a problem for them, as they improved to 29-21 at Coors, but the road is still their Achilles heel. I'll believe that they can contend in the mild, mild West (still a possibility due to it turning back into the Worst) once they win more than one game on the road.

Anyway, about the pics. Various amusing commentary encapsulated beneath.

Me and Atkins. We didn't have much time to chat with Atkins, since he had to move along and is generally not the world's most talkative guy as is. But he did say, "No problem," when I told him thanks. Also, something that strikes me every year is that Atkins is a very large fellow. No seriously, he is.

That is technically my sister Gillian, Bake, and me, but thanks to my older sister's camera-challenged ways, Gillian got her head cut off. She is absolutely clucking about this, since she loves Bake and really wanted this picture to turn out well. I am starting to see her point. He is the world's nicest guy. He ambled up to us, went, "Hey guys, what's up?" and promptly put his arms around both of us. I put my arm around him too. Hey, he liked it. He gave us a big grin afterwards. Too bad we didn't get to chat with him the way we did last year, but at least he didn't ground into three double plays the way he did last year.

My sister Darcy and I with Barmes. You can't exactly see his face, thanks to the shadows, but it's actually him, not Yorvit in a mask. (Yorvit was kinda tagging along on Iannetta's coattails, doing the double-catcher picture thing. We only got Chris, not Yorvit).

Gillian, Bucky, and me. Bucky is so cute. I told him, "You're doing very well this year," (1.79 ERA, I think so) and Bucky, looking genuinely surprised and pleased, answered, "Oh! Thank you! Thank you so much!" as if it hadn't ever occurred to him. We were doing the typical sister-banter thing in front of him, which was making him laugh, and Gillian said, "Can you tell we're sisters?" Bucky just grinned and shrugged. Cute little lemur that he is.

Gillian, Cookie, and me. Cookie's mouth is open because he was probably in the middle of making smart remarks about our shoes. It was crowded all day, so getting near the guys required a lot of finesse maneuvering, and as we squeezed in for our turn to take a pic with Cook, he looked at our flip-flop-shod feet and remarked, "You know, if you wore real shoes, you wouldn't have to worry about people stepping on your feet." I shrugged. "Oh well, it's hot." (Must have been at least 100 in the sun). "I know," Cookie responded with a grin. Another very friendly and nice guy, although we again didn't have time to talk with him the way I did last year.

Gillian, Brad, Darcy, and me. I think this is a cute picture, and Brad himself is of course as adorable as ever. The lady behind me with the water bottle was prowling around looking for people who might be stepping on the grass.

This year's Todd shot! I love Todd. I brought this picture from last year to show him, and he looked at it and said, "Oh, awesome!" Then, of course, we needed this year's version of the Toddhug, which we got.

Me, Matt, Darcy, and Gillian. Notice two things: 1) That Matt is resting his Gatorade bottle on my shoulder, and 2) The baby just beyond Gillian's shoulder. Once we had gotten our Matt pic, her dad handed her to Matt for a shot, and Matt held her gingerly in both enormous hands, making a funny face as if afraid he would drop her or she would start crying. It was amusing. Since there was such a big bottleneck around Matt, I don't think he moved the entire time.

Darcy, Iannetta, and I. Iannetta is, as always, very quiet and serious, methodically going along the line and applying his superior brain to the difficult task of Photo Day.

Someone scanned this picture crookedly. Gillian, U-ball, and me. No, Uball is not as scared of us as he looks. And no, my head is not on his shoulder.

Another very crookedly scanned photo, this one of me and last year's stretch-run hero Seth Smith. Who is looking kinda hot in that scruff.

Spilly! And us. Gillian was wearing her fringed/specially modified Everyday is a Holliday shirt, which she has cut up in strips, and Spilly took one look at it and said, "Hey, that's a cool shirt!" Since most people think this modification is odd, Gillian has taken it as one more indication that she and Ryan are soul mates. (I kid). I also got to tell him that I liked his tattoo. Spilly is the man and he needs to come back soon. I'm just happy that he was there.

Me and a camera-locating-challenged Stewie, who is looking the wrong way. Although he did kind of stare at me beforehand and then caress my neck during the photo (although not in a creepy way). So that was nice. He's not bad looking in person. Actually kind of cute. That is the case with most of them.

That does it for my pics. There are others with my sisters in them, but above is a fairly nice sample of what we got. It was a fun game, we got to semi-hang out with them, and screw the crowds. Damn bandwagoners. We were there last year before it was cool to be a Rockies fan. Mwah. Also, I’m glad that the Rockies are still enough of a small-market team to be able to do cool things like this (although it was a little zooey). Can you imagine the Red Sox, Yankees, Cubs, or Mets (all of whom I hate virulently with the exception of the Mets) trying to do something like that? Eh, yeah. Pandemonium.

Kip Wells vs. Eric Stults tomorrow. This is probably not going to end well.

Fireworks and the Fourth II, Very Late

Yes, I know the Fourth of July was a week ago, but at the rate I'm going, you should feel lucky that I even got around to it at all. Like last summer, I'm working close to full-time at Starbucks, worrying about whether I will ever get a raise (my last paycheck actually showed some improvement in my generally dire financial straits) and how in the hell I will ever afford Oxford this fall. I can't believe I'll be starting my junior year soon, and that I will be overseas for a year, but these are topics for another post, on my other blog. Click on my name if you're that curious.

In any case, my sister and I again decided to go to the Rockies' July 4th fireworks game since we had so much fun last year. (Click here to have the full report from 2007's fiesta. I see that I was only three days late that year, not seven). We also decided to get the tickets where you can legitimately get on the field, since last year we heard from a helpful friend that sections 148-160 got to go down onto the actual field for the fireworks. Of course, we had tickets in section 146, so we had to pull off a little subterfuge to get it to work, and it did. Well, not so this year. We purchased a pair of heinously overpriced single tickets in the left-field bleachers, sections 151 and 153 respectively, but had little to no intention of actually adhering to these inconvenient arrangements. When we got to the stadium late on a very hot July afternoon, Rockies hats and sunglasses doing their best to keep it out, we just decided that we'd keep moving around in the undoubtedly overcrowded bleachers until we found a pair of seats together. The Rockies were playing the Marlins, instead of the Mets as they were last year, and the pitching matchup was Greg Reynolds vs. the felon, Scott Olsen. As mentioned, we made it to Reynolds' first win, but he does have a tendency to be... mercurial. (That tendency would show up indisputably in a few hours).

I was wearing my Rockies NL Champs shirt, which, for a shirt with such good memories, has managed to serve as a lightning rod of bad luck for the purple-and-black poltroons. (Or maybe that's their own incompetence, not my clothing choices). I had decided to wear it since I didn't want to wear my Hawpe shirt again and my Atkins shirt needed to be washed, and clearly I was going to have to express my allegiances somehow aside from just my Tulo and Francis-autographed hat. (Not my other Rockies hat, which is signed by Atkins, Cook, Hirsh, Carroll, and Iannetta, but another hat, which I took along to the Mets game on June 20. The Rockies lost, but as mentioned, Tulo and Francis signed my hat and it was Tulo's first game back, so everyone gave him a huge cheer and the 'Tulo!' chant when he came up. He hit two weak ground balls, a liner right at David Wright, and got robbed of extra bases by Endy Chavez, who has a knack for doing that. Cook sucked. Jeff Baker hit a two-run homer in the bottom of the first and it went downhill from there -- the final score was 7-2 Mets. That was the second game I got to this season). But the third was the fireworks game, the Fourth, and I knew that I was taking chances by wearing such a jinxed piece of apparel. I decided that if the Rockies lost, I wasn't wearing the Champs shirt again until the offseason, where it would probably cause Dan O'Dowd to trade Holliday for a package of Double-A pitching prospects.

Gillian and I knocked around the stadium, said hello to our sister who works at the Diamond Dry Goods store, briefly reconnoitered with a fellow Purple Row poster and discussed chucking pieces of gum at George Frazier (who was sitting right above us doing the pregame show) then went into Section 151 and laid claim to one of the seats to which we were entitled. We sat there, enjoying the sunshine, until the game started. To which, I have to say, we did not enjoy very much. At least to start with.

Greg Reynolds left a sinkerball over the middle of the plate on his very first pitch of the game, and Marlins leadoff hitter/shortstop Hanley Ramirez hit it approximately 400 feet for a quick 1-0 Fish lead. This, however, did not settle Reynolds down, and by the time the inning ended, the Rockies were already behind 5-0. Pre-emptively, I blamed the unlucky shirt. But what the hell, there were still eight innings to go and it was a nice night. Aside from Reynolds' inability to pitch.

Fortunately, Scott Olsen wasted no time in proving that he wanted a bite of the fail pie, as doubles by Spilborghs and Barmes made it 5-1. Unfortunately, that was all the Rockies got in the bottom of the first, and by the time the top of the second was over, Reynolds had already been pulled with the Marlins' lead stretched to 7-1. But the Rockies weren't done scoring by a long shot. They added two runs in the bottom of the second when Spilly and Barmes struck back with a pair of RBI singles, and once they scored in the bottom of the third on a Baker RBI groundout, the lead had been cut to 7-4 and a comeback was starting to look manageable. Weirdly enough, however, when it was 7-1, I just had a funny feeling that it was someone else's turn to fail, and that maybe, maybe, no matter how improbable it sounded, we might win this one. I figured it would take a miracle. I was right, as it turned out later.

The Marlins, it seemed, had other ideas. Aided by a giant helping of fail from Cedrick Bowers and Luis "Should Pay Carbon Points For Taking Up Space" Vizcaino, they piled on six runs in an agonizing top of the fourth to push the deficit all the way back to 13-4. Gillian and I groaned and wondered how we were ever going to sit through this in time to get to the fireworks at the end. In the meantime, we were still playing seat roulette, moving from place to place in the bleachers as those who originally had claim to the seats came back and booted us. At one point right about now, it is worth noting that the woman sitting behind me tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Do you go to school in New York?" Surprised, I said, "Yes." She said, "Do you remember sitting next to me in Shea Stadium?" Even more surprised, I said, "Oh my God, I do!"

In another of my baseball escapades which naturally failed to get blogged about, I went to four or five Mets games this April while I was finishing up my sophomore year. At one of them, which I think was April 16 against the Nationals, my friend Mary and I ended up sitting in the upper deck next to, I swear, the only other Rockies fan in the place. She said she was out from Denver for the weekend, and since she actually didn't know that much about baseball, I spent the entire game educating her on the finer points of the best sport in the world. It was one of those remarkable coincidences that make you think, "Wow, small world," when, three months and 1600 miles later, she happened to be sitting one row behind me in the left-field bleachers at Coors. At least until Gillian and I moved again.

The Rockies, defying all our gloomy predictions that they were now certain to pack it in and try to speed through the rest of the game as fast as possible to at least get to the fireworks, instead showcased a remarkable resilience that hasn't exactly been their hallmark this season. After they inched to within 13-5 in the bottom of the fourth thanks to a monster concourse shot from Spilly, they exploded for four runs of their own in the bottom of the fifth. Holliday led off with a laser line drive of a homer, Atkins singled, Jeff Baker doubled, and after Hawpe and Tulo both grounded out, it was left up to Iannetta to deliver. Boy, did he ever. He hit one of the most mammoth homers I've ever seen in my life, another concourse shot, a three-run bomb that would have left Coors completely if the Toyota sign hadn't been in the way. This made it 13-9, the Marlins doing a marvelous job of squandering what had looked like a pretty ironclad lead. Gillian and I joked that the Fish were leaving in Olsen since they couldn't imagine the Rockies would actually clamber all the way back from a nine-run hole -- "He's not gonna give up thirteen runs, leave 'im out there!" (Imagine this said in stereotypical Bronx gangster accent with a lot of giggling. Hey, we had to amuse ourselves somehow).

The Marlins were uncomfortable with this turn of events, especially after Spilly hit his second homer of the game in the bottom of the sixth to bring the Rockies just three runs shy. After Barmes hit another double, Atkins had a long at-bat, fouling off a lot of pitches before he unloaded on one into the left-field seats -- coincidentally, just a few rows shy of us after Gillian had asked him to hit it to us. It was now 13-12 (Olsen was by now out of the game, but his replacement, Tankersley, wasn't faring much better) and a comeback was looking very feasible. The Marlins, I imagine, scrambled around the dugout looking for the panic button.

In any case, they decided that the best thing to do about it was to score more runs of their own. Jason "Gas Can" Grilli went badly to hell in the top of the seventh, as an intentional walk predictably backfired when Cody Ross lashed a bases-loaded single to score two and push the Fish advantage back to three again. (For the record, Cody Ross was an absolute monster for the series: 12-20, 15 RBI. Uh, if the Marlins want Yorvit, we'll take that guy. Spilly can start the road games and Ross can start at Coors). But that wasn't the extent of the damage, as although the Rockies managed to get two outs, old foe Luis Gonzalez tormented them again with another two-run single. By the time the top of the seventh was finally over, the Marlins' lead was 17-12 and the Rockies were really going to need to get the comeback mojo going.

They did, astonishingly enough. Quintanilla led off the bottom of the seventh with a double, and Spilly was intentionally-unintentionally walked. (Tulo was pulled in a double switch, and, as we found out later, wasn't too happy about it. In fact, he slammed a bat, lacerated his hand, had to get stitches, and ended up on the DL again... idiot). After Barmes walked as well, the bases were loaded with no outs, Coors was really starting to get into it, and Holliday was at the plate. Gillian and I, along with everyone else, were making a LOT of noise. In fact, I was already starting to lose my voice in the seventh, but I didn't really care.

Holliday went to a full count. I told him to do something good, since Coors was waiting for a chance to really explode, and boy, did he ever. He hit a rocket to center field that had the place going ape, he knew it was gone and punched his fists in the air as soon as he hit it, and he was right. 17-16, and the improbability continued. Atkins hit a single, but three straight strikeouts by Baker, Iannetta, and Hawpe ensured that the deficit stayed at one run. Neither team scored in the eighth (the first time all game that the Rockies hadn't scored at least one run in an inning) and after a nine-pitch inning by Bucky to get to the bottom of the ninth, the Marlins had completely exhausted their pen and had no chance but to put in Kevin Gregg, who had blown it the previous night (Spilly hit a two-run walkoff single in the bottom of the eleventh). All of Coors was on its feet and you had the sense it wasn't so much as if it was going to happen, but rather, how it was going to happen. Everyone was yelling, really keeping the energy level and the pressure up, and when Barmes started off the ninth by shooting a single into LF, you kinda felt it was actually going to happen. It was a pretty amazing feeling.

Holliday hit a flare that dropped, and Atkins hit a rocket into center field to tie the game at 17. Everyone was really losing it, and it felt like I imagine some of the Rocktober games last year must have. (Grr at missing those, but this almost made it up). After Bake hit a ball that looked like it might be two, Ramirez dropped the throw at second and everyone was safe -- bases loaded, still no out, and Iannetta at the plate. He delivered on the second pitch, grounding a bleeder past a diving Ramirez and into left field to bring the winning run home, and Coors really DID go nuts. Gillian and I leapt up and down, screamed ourselves hoarse some more, and high-fived everyone in sight. 18-17 win, Broncos over Dolphins. Go figure.

And that, of course, was even before the fireworks, which at one point looked as if they were going to have to be the main attraction. As it did last year, it took a long-ass time to get down on the field -- the game had gone four hours, and it was 45 minutes after it ended by the time Gillian and I finally stepped out onto the warning track beneath the lights, took off our sandals, and walked along happily on the damp dirt. Then we filed into the same place as last year, left field, not too far away from Holliday's little tornado of sunflower-seed shells, and collected both a few of those and some blades of grass. We did little dances on the grass barefoot, just for the hell of it, then lay down, thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, and just like last year, enjoyed it as the lights went out, we lay in the dark stadium, and fireworks exploded overhead. It was a pretty damn good show, if I say so myself.

This will likely be the last blog post until next Saturday, July 19th, which is something else I am very much looking forward to repeating -- Photo Day. (My biggest concern is that since Tulo, Todd, and Spilly are all hurt -- argh -- they won't be there. That would be ruinous. I'll just plan for that not to be the case). In any case, Holliday ended up being the starting right fielder for the NL in the All-Star Game since Soriano got hurt. But since Clint Hurdle is managing and there is little to no hope of ending AL domination, I wonder if I'll even watch the damn thing. The Rockies are in New York right now to close out their first half, and their record currently stands at a thoroughly underwhelming 39-54. But due to the NL West turning back into the NL Worst, and the Diamondbacks being a long, long way from the SuperTeam they were originally pegged as due to their scorching April, the Rox are still only seven games out. Still. When Glendon Rusch, Jorge de la Rosa, and Mark Redman are three-fifths of your rotation (dear god, I wish I was joking.... Cook and Jimenez are the other two, Francis is hurt, Morales got broken by our genius pitching coaches, Hirsh is struggling, and Reynolds got demoted) it's pretty hard to envision this team being taken seriously even in a joke of a division. I guess I'll have to be content with them winning 40 by the break, and since they're on the road, this will always be something of a challenge.

0-0 at the middle of the second. Aaron Cook vs. Oliver Perez. Go Rockies? Well, I've made it this far with them, even if they generally give me coronaries. Also, fire Hurdle and Apodaca. Plzthx.

A Comeback and a Coors Return

At last, something worth reporting. I did finally make it back to Coors for a game last night for the first time in about 10 months (or 9 months give or take a week or two). My last game in person was August 24, my birthday, against the Nats, and then a whole lot of stuff happened. A lot of it was amazing and thrilling (21 Days, the Rockies' run to the pennant) and a lot of it was atrocious and terrible (the World Series, most of 2008 in general). However, the crap took a reprieve last night, and I actually enjoyed myself thoroughly. This after I had to stop watching their games during the latest incarnation of the Road Trip from Hell, this one a 2-8 swing through Philadelphia, Chicago, and LA. Some of the lowlights on this trip involved being blown out 20-5 by the Phillies and blowing a 9-1 lead against the Cubs (yes, 9-1. And that's the last I will say about that. Repress, ye all, repress). I kind of had a feeling before the trip started that it was going to be a disaster, and was unfortunately right. At least they managed to win the last two games against LA, and coming home, actually managed to pull off a stirring comeback against the Brewers, who had won 9 of 10 coming in. Down 4-1 in the eighth, the Rockies actually resembled themselves from last year and strung together a five-run rally. Highlighted with a Todd double, an Atkins two-run triple, and the big blow, a Hawpe two-run homer (and off a lefty) they managed to win 6-4. (Fuentes didn't actually blow it. Amazing, I know).

(I feel obliged to mention that of course as soon as I start writing good things about them, Francis goes back to sucking and is currently in a 1-0 hole in the first with one out, a guy on second, and a 3-0 count on Prince Fielder. Actually, scratch that, he just walked Fielder. Never MIND).

Anyway, at least last night was fun. They were giving out Tulo bobbleheads, and my sister and I met up with my friend Nikki and her mom to enjoy the game from sect. 148, in pretty much exactly the same seats we purloined when we snuck down to the field last July 4th. We watched Greg Reynolds secure both his first major league victory (4 hits, 2 runs in 6 innings, attakid) and major league hit (a double down the right-field line. He was IMMEDIATELY erased when Willy T, failing as usual, popped into a double play, but the effort was nice. He also got a shaving cream pie to the face later, but we missed that part). Meanwhile, Hawpe, who just got back from an injury rehab assignment, blasted a grand slam in the first inning, followed one pitch later by a monster Iannetta homer. In the fifth inning, Ian Stewart hit a ball to Boulder (actually, the third deck) for his second big-league homer, and despite the fact that I absolutely freaked the fuck out when it happened, Jorge de la Rosa did not blow it in the seventh. Nor did Jason Grilli in the eighth. (Yes, I swear, these are the kinds of "relief" we have in the pen right now). What was fun was that Taylor Buchholz got to pitch the ninth, which may be the last time we see him for quite a while now that The Viz (he of the 27.00 ERA) is back, and Hurdle, being the genius he is, has announced his intent to give The Viz more innings. Apparently Bucky's 1.67 ERA has escaped him. Most things do. Poor Bucky, he'll have to go sit back in the locked bathroom with Iannetta.

Speaking of Iannetta, can you guess which of these two stat lines belongs to our starting catcher:

A) .289/6/20/.358/.577/.935
B) .221/2/15/.260/.338/.599

If you guessed A), as most rational people would, you'd be wrong. Nope, Yorvit Torrealba, aka B) must possess incriminating photos of Hurdle or something to keep being named the starter. There was already enough clamor to replace Torrealba with Iannetta last year even when Iannetta was struggling too, and now that he's hitting very well, it's getting even more excruciating to watch him lose time to a generally inferior player. AND we have Yorvit another year. Groan.

Help, however, may be on the way. Holliday went 4/4 last night on his rehab assignment with the Sky Sox, Tulo should be back in another few weeks, Barmes won't be far behind, and hopefully Jason Hirsh will make it back as well so we don't have to have Glendon Rusch (yes, I'm serious) start another game for us. Jeff Francis sucks, so does Manny Corpas, and Aaron Cook is really the only outstanding starter we have. A four-game win streak, modest as it is, of course has everyone hoping they've figured something out, which of course is not very likely, but hey. At least I got a Tulo bobblehead.

An Update As Short As The Rockies Are Bad

Yes, I am alive. Yes, the Rockies still suck great big hairy donkey balls. No, they have not done anything that I particularly wish to immortalize on the Internets, as relieving them in my scarred psyche is quite traumatic enough, thank you very much. Yes, in the very unlikely event that they sort asshats from teakettles and begin to resemble a MLB team again, I shall return to writing about them. In the meantime, all I do is piss, moan, complain, suffer, agonize, watch their games anyway and get angrier, bitch some more, question the meaning of life, and spit on small children, sunshine, old ladies, rainbows, and puppies. Which actually makes me a little like Philip Rivers, only without the Southern drawl and overwhelming aura of eau de douchebag. *

* Disclaimer: This is not true. I have not actually spat on anything and I have been doing quite well at life, mainly by pretending the purple-and-black poltroons do not exist. This is called repression and is the only way I can cope. Freud was onto something after all. I had coffee, worked some more on my latest book, and bought sweet new headphones today. That was good. I am done with sophomore year on Friday and go home on Monday. This is even better. Game against the Diamondbacks? What game against the Diamondbacks? Our sixth loss in seven games against the Diamondbacks? I'm sorry, this does not compute. Try another blog.

Well..... That's Just Wonderful

Tulo could be out until midseason.

That's just really fucking wonderful. I mean, he was slumping and all, but he was Tulo. He started out slowly last year, then he turned on the jets. Now he was forced to rush into the lineup last night after Baker tore a blood vessel, and it looks he completely tore a tendon near his quad, leading to a 4-to-8-week absence. I don't even know what to say. Yeah, no more pixie dust. I am pretty peeved right now. To put it lightly.

I Cannot Believe The Words Are Coming Outta Me Mouth

... but I'm on the verge of asking for Fuentes back as closer.

Thanks for a crapload of nothing, Manny. And against the Cubs. Fourth night in a row. Someone check the calendar, I think it's June 2007 again. And if we lose tomorrow, we'll go winless on this brief homestand.

Dear God.

Absolutely Pathetic

I really don't want to waste words recapping it, but every time you think the 2008 Rockies have figured something out, they go off and do their damndest to show you that no, they are still as wildly streaky as ever. Win four, lose three, and do so in agonizing fashion -- by blowing a one-run lead in the eighth, the eighth, and the ninth, respectively. Our bullpen was the best in baseball three days ago. Then the Astros broadcasters handily jinxed it. It was 4-3 Rockies and then 5-4 Astros. It was 5-4 Rockies and then 9-5 Phillies. It was 6-5 Rockies and then 8-6 Phillies. Three winnable games that we will regret later, especially with the damned Dbacks looking well-nigh unstoppable. Instead of 12-8, we are 9-11. Great going, guys.

Sometimes I swear I hate this team more than I ever loved them.... Oy.