Wal-Mart est l'Amérique and The Toronto Blue Jays

I was driving around aimlessly in the middle of the day in my Chevy thinking a lot to do with nothing. Art thou so bored? Yes. The heat was burning and the gas was juicing through the cylinders. In order for me to maintain some sanity in the middle of the day, I took a little job involving delivering food from one person to another. Strawberry didn't bother about doing this, I did it simply because I couldn't cope with the idea of not bringing in some sort of income to the little apartment we had. We never cooked and spent a lot of money out on 7th at the bars or on the occasional drug excursion.
What I enjoyed primarily about doing this gig what that I was my own boss and never had to deal with people often. I tried the Uber thing of escorting people around but got sick of their dreary talk. The best rides were the ones who said nothing aside from "take me here" and "yes, this is the place".
Get out sucka and have a nice day! Thanks for the USD!
Perhaps it was isolation or perhaps it was this newly discovered personal development of completely submerging into following The Rays but nihilism is a development of experience and perhaps embedded into you when you at least know it. Sensitivity is for the weak in mind and faint at heart. Why did I care about some other person's problems? Thanks buddy now get the fuck out, the game is on in ten minutes. We had air conditioning, a fabricated screen made from the blood and sweat of some Chinese hands and our watered down beer, why listen? When I'd drop food off to some over weight lawyer in downtown who barely would even look at me, the thought occurred in my mind you fat fuck. You are so lazy and incompetent that you don't even have enough energy to leave your office and get your own damn food. 
"Thank you sir! Have a nice day!" I'd politely say.
Silence in return.
Benefiting from the wealthy and slightly stupid. The money machine keeps turning. God bless America.
It reminds me of the time Strawberry and I met Stu Sternberg (the principle owner of The Rays). It was absolutely imperative that we shook hands. After all, he owned the thing that kept me sane and Strawberry from strangling me. What struck me about him was that he was very sharp and in shape.
I broke my key earlier today and was bum hurt about the matter and luckily our Cuban neighbor had a machine to duplicate it. Whether that is legal or not doesn't matter, convenience is the name of the game.

The Rays were heading to Toronto tonight and Blake Snell takes on Marcus Stroman. Thus far The Blue Jays have essentially bottomed out and decimated by injuries. Josh Donaldson, Tulo, Aaron Sanchez, Dalton Pompey and J.A. Happ are all sidelined. Once you hit rock bottom, you can either hug the ground or climb up. They are 6-17 (a franchise worst). Top 1st and Stroman was dealing. He isn't a big strikeout guy but induces a lot of ground balls. Top 2nd. Two men on and D-Norris softly singles and brings in one run. 1-0 Rays. Snell on the other hand, did what he did best. Work the count quickly to 0-2 then fall behind walking batters with two outs. He did this pretty consistently inning to inning. Amazing The Blue Jays didn't capitalize (but with a team struggling, it is of no avail). Bottom 5th still ahead. Darwin Barney singles in Kevin Pillar. 1-1. This follows up with Kendrys Morales grounding into a double play and bringing in Barney. 2-1 Toronto lead. Bottom 7th. Kevin Pillar takes Austin Pruitt deep. 3-1 Toronto. Is it over? Let the magic begin. Top 8th. Stroman still in and cruising. Corey Dickerson takes him deep on the first pitch. 3-2 Toronto. John Gobbins REPLACES him with Jason Grilli when he is only sitting at 100 pitches. Stroman wasn't happy but who would be? Let's analyze how great of a pitcher he is 7.1 IP 5 H 2 R 2 ER 2 BB 10 K and threw 100 pitches which 73 were strikes. Dude doesn't waste pitches. Case in point? John Gibbons is dumb. Enter Jason Grilli and Longo hits a bomb. 3-3 ties up then B-Miller walks. YES. Leone replaces Grilli then Lomo hits a two run bomb to center 5-3 Rays (I still loathe him). Top 9th. Former Ray J.P. Howell pitching and D-Norris takes his deep. 6-3 Rays. Then a wild pitch allowing C-Dick come in. 7-3 Rays. Bottom 9th. Jumbo Diaz allows a sac fly to a STRUGGLING Jose Bautista (bating a whopping .167 who I also hate) and Kevin Pillar scores but locks down the win. It's amazing to think without Edwin Encarnacion, this team is totally different and how you can pitch to this roster entirely different. There's no doubt, this whole team is built on offense and they are very depleted right now. As for Snell, he still looks really awkward on the mound. He cannot seem to repeat the mechanics to find the zone. It's in his hand placement and the way his right leg comes down thus making his hips adjusting to various part of the plate. A lot of it is mental but he needs to overcome it. He was lucky tonight. Straight up. That curveball is sick. Snell's line 5.0 IP 6 H 2 R 2 ER 3 BB 3 SO. He threw 96 pitches and 53 for strikes. Questionable bubba. Souza Jr. continues to impress with his glove and bat. So nice to see...finally. 


After the game, I found myself still driving around aimlessly and went to explore the most beautiful aspect about American civilization...Wal-Mart. Here, you will find the most perfectly laid out sociological spectrum to this great nation. If there are two places you want to taste Americana, it's at a baseball game and Wal-Mart. I went a little further out and to the one in Brandon. This is the town where Matt Joyce is from and an endless sprawl of suburban nightmare. I had a bit of a sweet tooth and this is actually the place where I took Strawberry for our second date. They have this McDonald's that smells like Lysol. Seeking out the candy, I come upon an employee.
"Hey buddy, where is the one dollar candy?"
His tag read Sam.
"I'm on lunch break," he croaked.
He looked impregnated. Light and happy, I took to the open aisle watching my fellow countrymen. Women with faded tattoos, men who looked more pregnant than a knocked up silver back guerilla, children stuffing their faces with candy or completely lost in the gaze of their screens, elderly veterans who keep on puttin', the depressed looking associate, the clinking sounds of grey shopping carts, the echoes of attention! Attention! the sweat dripping from the little Mexican dude, the flat bill of a white dude who clearly looks induced with crack, the lost stare of those who are shopping but don't know for what and the disgruntled looking married couple who are feeding the cubed suburban nightmare of Brandon, Florida.
I found the candy, snagged what looked luscious, waited in line and left.

Pitching Staff and April in Ybor City

It didn't dawn on me that there was no baseball on tonight and after finding out through a random misnomer at the bar on 7th, there weren't many games that interested me for the evening. It was so hot that everything melted, including the heat itself and slowly...my sanity. That doesn't make sense when all is delirious. What people tend to overlook (whom are not from Florida) is that the pre-summer/summer weather is almost unbearable for the not so faint at heart. It's not the heat, it's the humidity.
I found myself crouched over a little bowl of soup as Strawberry was laid out and relaxing. She'd been in the grind for the last couple of days and was no doubt the bread winner in this house. How to say this? I was a bum on all fronts and for some odd reason that still perplexes me beyond normal human rationale, she elected me to father her children. Every time when looking around the crumbling apartment that we resided in with dishes mounting in the sink and a creaking fan overhead and barely enough light to keep the rooms lit up, she still stuck by my side.
What did I have to offer such a beautiful woman like Strawberry?
"So what do you wanna eat tonight baby?" she asked softly.
"Er..."
"Oo! I know! Let's go get some wings! There is a special for sixty nine cent wings tonight! I know just the spot!" she yelped.
Fuck if I ever had the choice in the matter.
We wound up back on 7th at Buffalo Wild Wings where the clean and needy stuffed their faces with grease and starch. Why not begin with a carbonized alcoholic beverage?
Strawberry just loved being out in the lights and I liked being inside the confines of my mind and there was the screen showing highlights from various games throughout Major League Baseball. I saw The Braves beat The Mets and Miami lost again. Seems like nothing good can happen in Florida.
"So anyways, I was thinking..." Strawberry began.
My mind began thinking about the Rays' starting rotation thus far for the month of April.
"And she thinks..." Strawberry continued.
Let's break it down:

Chris Archer 2 W 1 L 3.94 ERA 5 G 32. IP 32 SO 1.38 WHIP
Jake Odorizzi 1 W 1 L 4.15 ERA 3 G 13 IP 8 K 1.00 WHIP
Alex Cobb 1 W 2 L 4.66 ERA 5 G 29 IP 21 SO 1.52 WHIP
Blake Snell 0 W 2 L 3.38 ERA 4 G 21.1 IP 15 K 1.41 WHIP
Matt Andriese 1 W 0 L 3.86 ERA 4 G 21 IP 18 SO 1.38 WHIP

Collectively they are pitching not very great but not very awful either. Obviously with the tight hamstring, Odo gets less emphasis. What's alarming is Snell and Cobb. These two really need to pitch better in order for The Rays to remain relevant in a very hard AL East. What's different about Cobb (than say in 12' or 13', 14') is he nibbles more around the zone than previously. He's never been a huge strike out dude to begin with and is one that needs to pitch for contact. I guess in theory Archer is still our best pitcher for the time being but Andriese has really held his own just needs to go a little deeper but then again, it's not even May yet. Cob still has been tallying more K's but has also been hit around quite a bit too (hence the ERA). Snell is odd in that he'll show flashes of how great he CAN be but has a mental breakdown when something goes awry behind him or to him. Gotta learn from those mishaps sucka.

"So maybe we can..." Strawberry continued.

I would like to focus a little bit more on Brad Miller. He has 80 AB thus far with 18 hits 15 BB and 26 K and is batting .225 so what gives? He seems to be chasing a lot more and his strike zone seems to be a tad bit bigger this year that opposing pitchers exploit. Is this an umpire or unlucky factor? If he is to remain in the 4-hole, he needs to be disciplined enough to wait for THE pitch instead of striking out and taking a walk (not to say walks are bad). I really like B-Miller and would like to see him cut down on his strike outs. What's up with Weeks Jr? 33 AB 6 H 4 BB 17 K and batting .182. That aint the dude I saw at Spring Training.

"Do you want some..." Strawberry cries.

Then the catching...D-Norris has looked OK behind the plate. There have been some plays that have cost us a couple of runs and the bat is barely awake. He has 61 AB 10 H 6 RBI with a .164 batting average. Ouch. Praise Jesus though (Sucre that is)! Jesus has 22 AB 6 H 6 RBI 1 HR and batting .275. Okay okay, very lopsided in terms of who is getting more play time but you kinda see the gist of things.  All in all though, it beats watching Curt Casali or Luke Maile behind the plate.

"Are you listening to me?!" Strawberry roared.
"Yes, darling, of course,"

So in conclusion, if The Rays are going to want to be relevant and sustain winning, they need Colby Rasmus, Shawn Tolleson, Boxy, Kevin Gadea, Tommy Hunter, Mallex Smith, Wilson Ramos, Cedeno (if he can throw strikes) and the most important one of all...Matt Duffy to return healthy and legit. It goes without saying the starters need to go deeper and that Austin Pruitt can spit in my face for never believing in him. Good for you bubba. I am excited to see how Hu works out. Afterall we did trade for him in 15' (the last time we were good). Corey Dickerson and Steven Souza Jr. have been really great to watch and KK shows he is streaky behind the plate. That loopy swing. Best minor league signing? SHANE PETERSON SUCKERS! Erasmo has been solid too. Pounds the zone fool.

"You want another beer baby?"
"Yes, why yes of course!" she concured.
Strawberry and I got drunk and merry then fornicated in the bathroom at Buffalo Wild Wings. As she rode me on the toilet, I could see engraved on the door poop. 

 

Alex Cobb and Three Coins Diner...

It was one of the nights when I just wanted to be alone. Nothing in the world would have kept me from staying in. Why bother right? My mind ran astray and thoughts seemed to fizzle into the Florida humidity. I haven't been able to hold a job very long and the only thing that seems to give my days any sense of purpose of living is the fact nine innings will be played. Strawberry stood by me and it seemed very odd why she'd stay with some buster like me. I guess the question arises within one someone comes to such a revelation is am I happy and what am I doing here?

Three Coins is an old diner not too far away from Seminole Heights. The neighborhood has become somewhat of a trendy place where white people with overloaded tattoos and good professions come to live and protest about their little inner tribulations. I have reached an age into my life where none of that stuff matters anymore and I simply accept things for what they were. As I looked around my apartment earlier in the day and pondered the thought, it was a mini moment of nirvana, which is to say, when one realizes their true position in life. Broke and humble.

Needless to say, Three Coins was cozy as it seems to draw a pretty diverse crowd, ranging from sad looking cops, weird pairs of people and the lonesome guy in search for their well-deserved meal. The coffee was watered down and the skinny Spanish lady had a charm with crooked teeth. All in all, it was a place where I could temporarily escape my thoughts and try to forget the daily grind of boredom and mundane conversations that played over and over inside my mind. Strawberry was at work, so Three Coins seemed suitable for the night. Alex Cobb was going tonight against a very good Dylan Bundy. She served my country steak and eggs and tuned onto the little screen in front of me.

Once again, Cobb showed his inability to go through 6.0 innings. Is it me or does every Rays starter seem to work every count 0-2 then work it full? Bundy looked OK but was a bit spotty with the command. Thus far, he really is The Orioles best pitcher. Bottom 2nd and the gates flooded. Seth Smith singles then KK throws is into a sliding Ryan Flaherty and Longo misses it completely. Cobber was backing him up then throws a fastball off the back of Flaherty's helmet and into LF the ball goes. O's up 3-0. Top 3rd. T-Bex cranks on into LF. 3-1. Top 5th. T-Beck does it again! Homers into LF. 3-2. Clawing back. Top 8th. Bases juiced. Time to take advantage. B-Miller grounds out and forces in a run but a good defensive stop by Crush Davis. 3-3. Top 11th. Jesus Sucre bloops one into right and The Rays take the lead 4-3. Bottom 11th. Alex Colome on the mound trying to shut the door. Schoop sac flies and ties it up. The bases get loaded and Colome walks in the winning run. Walked off (literally). Embarrassing. Say what you want, they should have had this game and the defense imploded and pitching couldn't get the job done. How many of these have we had in April? Is that what happens with "bullpen days"? Alex Cobb's night finished at 5.0 IP 8 H 3 R 2 ER 2 BB 3 K leveling his ERA to 4.66. It's frustrating to watch these starters unable to go deeper into games. This team cannot rely heavily in the pen hence why Colome lost his control and walked in the winning run. Sure T-Bex looked good but at the end of the day, if this team doesn't capitalize on all of these walks and can barely get one run out of them, they will always be losing by one run. Cobb's secondary stuff looked great though but just could not get these hitters out when jumping ahead. Picking around the zone. Erasmo continues to look great too. Just pounds the bottom part of the zone.

I lit a cigarette and tried not to think while on the patio sipping on the watered down coffee. Here I am without a thought in the world, full and smoking. Amazing to think I could be bored when other parts of the earth go through war, famine, dictatorship, poverty and political unrest. Perhaps I was bored but at least I was aware.
"How about them Rays buddy?" some guy on the patio asked.
"Check please,"
He seemed confused about the gesture and I left...full and humbled.

Rainy in Baltimore and A Free Cruise

Some clown on the phone called me on a beautiful night trying to offer me a free cruise.
"Excuse me sir but you have been chosen for a free cruise," they explained.
Strawberry probably filled out one of those applications at this Mexican joint in Temple Terrace we occasionally go to.
"You just have to pay port taxes and it is yours," the voice said.
"How much are the taxes?"
"Approximately three thousand dollars," the voice replied.
Click.

I felt melancholy and tuned in to watch Chris Archer go up against Ubaldo Jimenez. Didn't he throw a perfect game with eight walks against the Braves? Aint that perfect? How is it the Rays jumped out on top and knocked their starter out after 3.0 IP and STILL managed to blow their lead. Archer looked OK until imploding in the 6th or 7th with a flat slider that Adam Jones took deep and essentially the ball game in front of a huge crowd (The Rays are used to dismal crowds). Needless to say , Ryan Garton came in and gave up another run. I have no faith in Garton. Archer's line finished 6.2 IP 6 H 5 R 5 ER 5 BB 3 K 3 HR with an ERA currently at 3.94. He kept us in the game for awhile but his secondary stuff just got flat and they went yard. Schoop went deep on him too. Archer is effectively an odd pitcher. Does he preach more than what he practices?
Tuesday night looked dismal in Baltimore too. It was a "bullpen" night. Do we have one? Erasmo was a late scratch and they inserted Austin Pruitt. Pruitt pitched well and Wade Miley looked OK too despite all the free passes. We didn't capitalize enough on these mistakes. Miley finished with 6 BB 8 K. This game is like my life...odd.
Our pen held their own though with the likes of Pruitt, Whitley, Jumbo, D-Farq and Colome shuttin' the door. We put together some timely hits and shut The O's out 2-0. T-Beck is lookin' great at short but still hasn't woken that bat up alongside KK. The best off season move thus far has been Shane Peterson. Talk about a hidden gem.

I called back the number that offered the free cruise.
"Hey buddy, can I win a free cruise to Hawaii?"
"You and everyone else you bastard!" he roared.
I hung up and laughed.
Life was stagnant.

One Misplay By Sucre And There Goes The Day

I drove Strawberry out to the beach and put on the little radio I had. Keepin' it old school. We went out to Pass-a-Grille in search for the lucrative Hurricane restaurant. Damn good grouper sandwich (despite their mayo being meager). Paying to park out here was a bitch too. Oh well. Let live...

Matt Andreezy on the hill versus Joe Musgrove. He made these Astros Opening Day Roster in Spring. Feels good right? No matter...bottom 1st and The Rays pour it on. B-Miller triples following up a Souza Jr. bomb off the foul pole in left. 3-0 Tampa Bay. Jesus Sucre singles in a run. 4-0 TB. Sweet. Seems like a win right? Wrong. Andriese got a little too comfortable like a suburban husband then began having spotty command. Top 3rd. Carlos Correa does what he does best and slam a two run shot into RF. Cut it half. 4-2 TB. Top 5th Jose Altuve hits one out into LF. He is such a great all-around player. Lays down beautiful bunts. Hits homer. Hits clutch. Runs bases well and is a great defender. At this point Musgrove has found his groove and has his secondary pitches working. Musgrove finished with 6.0 IP 5 H 4 R 4 ER 1 BB 4 K. Not bad for a dude who barely survived the first inning. On the other hand, Andriese finished with 5.0 IP 6 H 3 R 3 ER 2 BB 4 K 2 HR. Considering Andriese had this one from the get go and still managed to hold a one run lead I wouldn't go as far to say it was lock down. His command was VERY spotty and was stung by the long ball again. It seemed like the Rays just let the foot up on the gas and thought they had this game in the bag against a VERY good Astros lineup. Kevin Cash went with Alex Colome to get a six out win (seems to be the future of baseball, relying heavily on your bullpen to dictate wins). He survived the 8th and top 9th here we go. Gurriel singles. Aoki grounds out and moves the runner. While Gattis is up Sucre misses a pitch and the runner moves over to 3B. Next pitch Gattis has a sac fly. 4-4 tie. If the bullpen is the future, The Rays are in trouble. Top 10th. Ryan Garton replaces Alex Colome and gives up 3 hits and two runs (both earned). Ken Giles slams the door in the bottom of the 10th and Astros go on to win 6-4. I really don't like Garton. Amazing to think they lost a four run lead but this is  nothing new thus far in April. If there's one thing that'll keep the Rays from being contenders this year, it will be because of a very vulnerable and weak bullpen. Colome was a little off his command and the missed ball didn't help,
Sunday afternoon blues...

We both fell asleep on the shore, got burned and paid one hefty parking toll. All in all, a crappy day in Tampa Bay.
"Let's go to Taco Bell,"
Strawberry moaned, we agreed and went.

Blake Snell's Questionable Start and Blind's Pass

I woke up with an excruciating pain in my back and decided to drive out to Blind's Pass to extinguish the fire. Strawberry liked their rum runner so I figured what the hell? We wound up in Pelican Pete's where the north, cellulite and sun burn meet over a cold drink (or two).
Needless to say, there were no Floridians in the joint and the snowbirds packed the bar. It struck me curious that so many people flocked down here to my sunny state during extended winter and spring with their time shares.
"Do you own here?" a man asks.
"I own a car,"
He laughed out loud and bought us a round of shots.
The thought persisted in my mind...can a baseball franchise survive in a city where it's full to the brim of northern transplants and North American commuters? What were the initial owners of The Devil Rays franchise thinking when establishing a Major League Baseball team in St. Pete? If they build it, they will come.
What a load of shit. We don't live in movies, we live in reality. Wake up and move the god damn team to Tampa. Tampa and St. Pete have two different feels to it. Tampa is more blue collard and rougher on the edges. St. Pete has more of a sun burned beach'd out vibe to it. Where the two places differ, is that Tampa is split into two worlds and St. Pete three. Tampa has suburban sprawl around and the core being odd and tattooed. St. Pete has it's bustling downtown then South St. Pete with all of the crime and the novelty of its beaches (where the general population there are tourists, geriatrics and college students). Salt life. Clearwater is lost in residential purgatory.
"These rum runners sure are great," Strawberry cheered.
The TV displayed the game and thus we go:

Blake Snell took to the mound against Charlie Morton. I knew virtually very little of Morton but was impressed by what I saw. My expectations of Snell followed through. Snell is one of the oddest pitchers on the Rays staff. His repertoire is superb. Top 1st. Strikes out George Springer then gets Beltran and Altuve to fly out. Altuve sure is fun to watch. Bottom 1st. Charlie Morton mows them down with an excellent fastball. He kinda reminds me of Angels' Garret Richards with his delivery. STUD. Top 2nd. Former Brave El Oso Blanco cranks one near the Rays tank. Astros 1-0. Dude wears no gloves and crushes. Walks Bregman then gets Gurriel to ground out. Sweet. Bottom 3rd. T-Beckham triples off the right field wall but the Rays come up short as Dickerson grounds out. Top 4th. Jose Altuve cranks one out near Ducky's. Good thing I didn't get the chicken sub tonight. Astros up 2-0. This is usually where Blake begins walking dudes but calms down and works through. Learning in motion. Bottom 4th. Longo doubles then Souza singles after a B-Miller strike out and Lomo walks. Bases juiced. D-Nor up and grounds out. Came up short bubba. Bottom 5th. T-Beckham and C-Dick single then Ducky's finest Longo doubles them in. 2-2. Tie game. Sup? Top 6th. Lead off four-pitch-walk to Jose Altuve. Snell was picking around the zone. Altuve steals second. On Evan Gattis' ground out to Lomo, Lomo sluggishly gets to the bag as Altuve flies around third to score and makes Lomo look REAL bad. Embarassing. At the same time Tommy Hunter is walking around in pain. Great. He gone in comes Austin Pruitt. Astros up 3-2. Bottom 6th. Unleash the offense. Souza doubles. Lomo walks. Chuck Norris grounds out (again). Shane Peterson singles in a run. 3-3. T-Beckham singles in Lomo. 4-3. Pinch hitting Peter Purjos for birthday boy/sick man Kevin Kiermaier (who struck on three times) and singles in two more run. 6-3 Tampa Bay. Snell finished the night 5.0 IP 3 H 3 R 3 ER 5 BB 4 SO. It's maddening watching him because he'll get a quick 0-2 count then creep it all the way back to 3-2. Common dude. Pitch counts matter sucka. Meanwhile, Austin Pruitt has found his stride. Kid came in and went 2.1 IP with a couple of strike outs to a notable VERY good Carlos Correa. "Just gotta pitch strikes," he'd later say in the post game show. Amen bubba. Top 9th. Alex Colome comes in. Gets Correa to fly out deep to center. Gattis flies out. Bregman singles but Gurriel grounds out ending the game. Shane Peterson made a couple of marvelous plays out in LF. DEPTH Y'ALL.

Feeling good.
"Another rum runner please,"
Strawberry was in good form. A couple of her buddies from Mermaid's just down the street came to join and were dancing. We ordered cheeseburgers and watched the sunset.

Cobber cannot hold the lead/stung by the long ball and getting kicked out of your seats

Strawberry strongly urged me to go with her brother to the game. I was hesitant about it but I went anyway. He taught me the art of sneaking behind home plate. I ordered us 5$ beers and let the playing begin.

Alex Cobb took to the mound against Mike Fiers. A total mystery but apparently solid. Up in the booth for the Astros play by play, Tod Kalas. Bummed. Top of the first. Dickerson hits a bomb. 1-0 Rays. Top 2nd. Carlos Beltran hits a bomb. 1-1. Bottom 2nd. Lomo answers with a bomb. 2-1 TB. Typical AL baseball right here. Bottom 3rd. While talking smack against Longo he slams one right near his restaurant Ducky's out in center field. They have a descent chicken sandwich. 3-1 TB. Top 4. Brian McCann and Yuli Gurriel bring in the tying runs. 3-3. Cobb labored but picked off Altuve twice Quick dance moves sucka. Top 7. George Springer hits a forced grounder to Longo and brings in the go ahead run. Somewhere in the game he made a couple of great catches in center. His counter part, Kevin Kiermaier did the same in the 2nd or 3rd and then disappeared from the game around the 6th or 7th. (forgot because of the booze). Top 9, Josh Reddick hits a sac fly out to center putting Houston ahead 6-3. Cobber finished his evening with 6.0 IP 9 H 4 R 4 ER 1 BB 7 K 1 HR. Not too bad just our offense couldn't muster anything more off a very good Astros pen. Jumbo Diaz pitched 2.0 innings and gave up one walk. Good things. Danny Farq looks like he's running out of gas and gave up another run.

I got pissed off and started embarassing myself by screaming and yelling words in the English language that seemed unfathomable to most and more importantly...to myself.
Alcohol does mysterious things.
"Sir, can we see your tickets?" the usher asked.
"I paid 7.11$ to get into this shitty stadium, so yes. I am poor,"
The guy looked on in horror.
"Yes but sir," he began.
"No we'll move with all of the other peasants, I know more than all of these people about Rays Baseball but I'll move!"
The pulse was pulsing.
Some clown in a Cubs jersey looked on mystified by my actions.
"GO KRIS BRYANT BRO!"
God I hate St. Pete.

Erasmo fits in nicely while I see mirages in bong smoke...

I found myself waiting in the drive through at McDonald's while surfing the radio dial and Dave and Andy were on the radio. What the devil? The Rays were playing a midday game and I didn't even know!
"Big Mac please,"
"That'll be five dollars," the radio spoke.
God it was so fucking hot outside already. Summer is here. As I gazed over the menu one more time my mind ran astray. It's amazing to think that these meals were only five dollars. I don't know when the last time I had a salad was. Maybe in a McDonalds. The lettuce tasted like rubber but it was only one buck. I loved this McDonalds. Just shy of where I-275 and I-75 meet. The place is made of brick and the homeless swarm at all times of the day.
"There will be no game on TV today," WDAE announced.
The Rays were so poor, they didn't even broadcast every game. No wonder there is no real fan base.
Going home to watch the game was out of the question so I just did what every American did, I sat in my car and drove around aimlessly...like how my mind functions.

Erasmo Ramirez got the start today when it should have been Chase Whitley but that would make too much sense right? Only in Rays Baseball. Needless to say, Erasmo was stretched out so they threw him in the fire. Two strikes to Ian Kinsler then crushed to left field. 1-0 Tigers. Erasmo to me is a two pitch pitcher. Fastball and breaking pitch. He should be a guy people can replicate success from because he knows how to locate his fastball just like Bartolo Colon. It aint always about velocity; it's where you place it to each hitter. Opposing us was Daniel Norris. The key piece in the David Price trade to Toronto back in 15'. He has shown a lot of life on that fastball of his and good movement. Bottom of the first, Rickie Weeks reaches on throwing error by Dixon Machado and Souza scores. Tie game and from there unleash the offensive annihilation. Bottom 2nd. Souza triples bringing in two. KK singles tacking on another. Bottom fifth, T-Beckham forces a grounder tacking another run 5-1 Rays. Bottom 7th. KK finally hits one out and rounds the bases. Brad Ausmus challenges to see if he missed 2nd base, Joe West is pissed and the call remains. Homer. Bottom 8th. D-Rob hits his first Major League bomb off Aussie native Warwick Saupold (cool name bubba). Surely in heaven D-Rob's father was smiling from above. Cool moment. D-Rob is cool. Then for shits and giggles Souza hits a bomb to left field. Why not? The Rays come out on top. Erasmo finished solid going 5.0 IP 2 H 1 R 1 ER 5K 0 BB. Not bad sucka. Whitley went nicely too for his home debut 3.0 IP 1 H 2 BB 3 K. Welcome home Chase. To shut the door was Tommy Hunter and that he did. The Tigers leave swept and a nice boost of confidence after a very disappointing road trip. Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out. In come the Astros Friday night and Alex Cobb will take the mound. A very good team needless to say. Stacked with talent.

I found myself gleefully driving around and wound up somewhere down Bruce D. Downs. "New Tampa" is what they deem it. On the radio was Neil Solondz's post game show. He was breaking down Erasmo's start. Meanwhile, I pulled out my mini-bong, took a rip and kept coasting down Bruce B. Downs Avenue. This whole part of Tampa seemed extraterrestrial and odd. In comparison to the areas around Ybor or South Tampa or even West Tampa, this "New" part of the city seemed peculiar. I hooked a left into one neighborhood that read Tampa Palms. Didn't know where I was going, you don't know when you are lost. Gated community after gated community. Never been in one of those. I rolled up to the front gate of one.
"Are you lost?" the guy asked.
"Maybe. I just wanna drive around the neighborhood,"
He looked at me coyly. He scanned my car, which was filthy and red, probably thinking I was a serial killer.
"Do you live here or know someone who lives here?" he demanded.
"No. I'm a prospective homeowner,"
Awkward.
"Sure buddy, get the fuck outta here," he snapped and went back into his little hut.
I left feeling slightly confused but again, the heart was glowing with joy due to a sweep of the Tigers. I passed by a dozen more gated communities and thought about the people who lived in there while taking another rip off the bong. Let it burn baby. Perhaps players? Perhaps not. Why did they live in gated communities anyhow? Were they afraid of something? Oh yeah...reality.
I drove back onto Bruce B. Downs and got back onto I-4 then merging onto I-75 heading back into the thick of obscurity and odd, which is to say, Downtown Tampa. There's no place like home.

Archer hates the third time around and philosophy while high on 420

"God damnit, I want children!" Strawberry barked.
"Aint my love enough?"
"I just have been thinking about it," she explained.
Love is a funny thing. It comes in many different forms. For many people it seems to be a temporary state of total bliss but from my experience this is something that is temporary. In the end, which is debatable, human nature teaches us that we tend to get sick of one another and that we just learn to cope with another being, hence the whole terminology of "a partner". Sure, Strawberry and I got along great but it wouldn't harm me in saying that she could leave me whenever she chose and I wouldn't be devastated by it. Especially in this day in age when we are filled to the brim of endless options and insight into other people's lives. Why worry about yourself when you can peak into the "happiness" of others on Instagram, Facebook and so on.
"I don't think I'm ready for children,"
I used to be a romantic. I fell in love with this girl in Ohio. I did everything for her. Bent over backwards and beyond. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. We went to a far away place called California where a series of unfortunate events led me incarcerated and her to support me while undergoing these trials and tribulations. When someone says "I love you" one would think that means till' death do us part.
"You need to figure this out on your own, it's not my problem," she explained and left me there in California to deal with all of the legalities and nonsense that she put me in.
How could one ever love again?
It wasn't until one fateful night I found myself locked eye to eye with the glowing TV set and watching The Rays take on The Blue Jays that a true definitive love was established and no one has seemed to understand this. Maybe Strawberry will, maybe not. The thing that baseball gives me is consistency that nothing else does. So why put all of this energy into baseball? Do what you love and die.
"Roll us a joint baby, it's 420,"
She shrugged her shoulders and did. I flipped on the TV and off we go...

Chris Archer was on the mound to take on Ex-Nat Trash Jordan Zimmerman. Thus far Zimmerman has had a mixed bag of outings whereas Archer has been pretty solid. Still needs to go deeper but that's neither here nor there. Archer breezed through and The Rays jumped out in front with Souza and Longo leading the offensive strike. Amazing! Zimmerman was getting knocked around. He isn't a big strikeout guy but he's one to work with his defense who looked like pure shit. Jacoby Jones and Ty Collins had a miscommunication and literally dropped a routine pop fly. Maybe they lost it in the confines of that ceiling of the dome? Out ahead. Archer was dealing but still working that pitch count up. Top of the third. Miggy. A good battle between Archer and Miggy but Miggy came out on top with a single to right and Ian Kinsler comes in to score. 2-1 Rays. Bottom of the 4th. Dickerson singles in Shane Peterson and Longo doubles in Kiermaier and Dickerson. Rays up 5-1. We are winning this game? Hold on. Top of the 5th. Third time through. Archer begins unraveling. Miggy doubles in Iglesias and Kinsler. V-Mart doubles in two more. 5-4 Rays. Jesus, Really? Archer could barely get out alive. Top of the 6th. Bases loaded and Nick Castellanos up at the plate. Archer out. Danny Farq in. Walk. Hit by pitch. Jacoby Jones grounds into double play. Man on third. Out goes Farq in comes Jumbo. Walks Iglesias. Walks Kinsler. Bases juiced. Nick Castellanos lines one out to center right, KK makes his best dive, misses and that clears that bases. How'd he miss that?! A triple. 7-5 Detroit. FUCK ME. Jumbo walks Miggy. Out goes Jumbo in comes Austin Pruitt. Kid needed this. Works 3.1 IP, gives up 1 H and 5 K. He needed that as badly as I needed another rip of this joint. Put us in a position to win. Bottom of the 7th. Souza singles in KK. 6-7 Detroit. Common baby. Top of the 9th. K-Rod in. KK walks. Longo Doubles putting us in scoring position. YES. They pinch run Longo with Peter Bourjos. They intentionally walk a struggling Brad Miller. Souza strikes out on a border-line-pitch and Kevin Cash goes out barking, gets ejected. See ya at 7-11 bubba. Lomo up. One down. Game is on the line. He grounds one to Iglesias. GOD DAMNIT. Wait. Until...he slips on the bag at second and falls right into a sliding Brad Miller. Head meets knee. Sup dude? Iglesias loses grip, fumbles and in come KK and Bourjos to walk off. Game over. Rays win! Rays win! Rays win! Archer finished the night with 5.0 IP 7 H 4 H 4 ER 2 BB 9 K. All in all, OK. He didn't go deep due to high pitch counts and seems to become slightly retarded when going third time through a line up. His change up is developing but to call it "a weapon" would be an overstatement. He relies on his fastball-slider combo to out-duel hitters and it was working pretty well first time through. Is he ever going to be a true ace? Hard to say...I still love him though.

"Let's take a rip off the bong baby,"
Strawberry gingerly bounced around and grabbed the sack of bud in the cupboard. After all, we just walked off on the eve of 420. She sat down and took a rip and I followed suit. Our eyes were red and our minds were numb. The way I liked it. Not to think.
"So what about children?" she asked.
"I was talking to a girlfriend of mine and the way she talks about her daughter made me start thinking," she continued.
Here we go...
"Sorry to interrupt you but is she still with the father of her child?"
"No, I don't think so," she said softly.
Typical.
"How many single mothers are out there do you think?"
Silence.
"Ugh..." she moaned.
"Exactly,"
Welcome to Florida.
I really did like Strawberry but would I go as far to say I love her? Hard to say. She was good company, she was easy going but was I in a position to start a family? Pondering the statement and looking around my apartment, seeing empty bags of chips, half-drank bottles of soda and a sink full of dirty dishes and the sweat dripping down my balls the answer surged into thought:
"I'm in no position to start raising children,"
She looked on with a mystified look.
"I'm going to take another rip," she whined.
She did and we went out for a walk down 7th Avenue.

Andriese mows throw a thick Tigers lineup and a trip to Tropicana Field

"I got some free tickets from this dude at my work," Strawberry announced.
Lord only knows who that fucker could be. After all, my girl is a stripper. It would do me some good to finally get over there to Tropicana Field and submerge into fellow Rays fans. Did they exist?
"I'm excited," Strawberry said.
"Nothing like buying ten dollar beers,"
Traffic was smooth as Strawberry happily drove the Chevy and the sun bled into the car. Nothing like indoor dome baseball, which is to say, Rays Baseball.

Andriese takes then mound against reining AL Rookie of The Year, Micheal Fulmer who boasted a 2.00ish ERA. I won't lie, from the get go, I had very little expectation, especially after the bomb he gave up to birthday boy Miguel Cabrera. What a monster. He left a fastball right over the plate and well, Miggy did what he did best. Crush it. Top of the first. Tigers up 1-0. Fulmer mowed threw our lineup the first and second until TIM BECKHAM OF ALL PEOPLE comes in clutch in the bottom of the third. Strawberry got seats into the First Republic Bank Lounge for season ticket holders. A quaint spot and we stood under the rafters that looks out onto the turf. Shane Peterson singles prior to Beckham. Man on. Beckham turned on a pitch that looked like a fastball into left field. I couldn't believe my eyes. Maybe I began hating him less. Maybe. Andriese really settled in. I looked out to the scoreboard to see his pitch count was slowly creeping up but he really got ahead of the hitters. 0-2 counts. Love it. Pound the zone bubba, just like I'm gonna pound Strawberry later.
Andriese clocked out for the night with a nice ovation on a 6.0 IP, 4 H, 1 R, 1 ER, 1 BB, 5 KK, 1 HR. Not a bad night in the dome. Danny Farq, Hunter and Jumbo came in and held the potent Tigers offense down. Glorious. Derek Norris tacked on another run in the 7th. Struggling Kevin Kiermaier doubled in a run and Brad Miller singled in a run to putting the Rays ahead 4-1 in the 8th. Kiermaier had two strikeouts looking tonight, which is alarming considering the dude is "our guy" yet bats at a whopping .241. He steals and defends, yes, but there is too much swing and miss in that swing plus he tends to have a looping/swooping swing. I love him but he really needs to improve that plate approach. Critique the things you love. Top of the ninth. Alex Colome. Does what he does best. God, I love him. Nothing phases him. Keeps placid and cool. Mowed down Miggy, V-Mart grounds out and Romine lines to Longo wrapping up a well-played game. Finally a win. The dome will glow.

"God that was great baby," I mumbled.
"Are you happy?" she asked.
"Let's get married,"
Some guy to the left of us was wearing a shirt with a bold print reading St. Pete vs. Everyone. It was hard to make of the shirt considering a lot of the inhabitants of this town were geriatrics or transplants from another state and a life expectancy of 5-10 years...TOPS.
"What's your shirt mean buddy?"
I felt cheerful.
"Oh, this? It's something to do with work. I'm in real estate. I make 500,000 dollars a year," he boasts.
 Strawberry looked at her phone as I stared on in more confusion. Silence.
"I have a plumbing problem in my shitty apartment just shy of 7th in Ybor,"
He chuckled.
"Really?" he laughed.
"Yes,"
People were silly but who cares. The dome was glowing orange and my heart was full of joy.
"Let's make love in a port-o-potty,"
"Are you serious? That's dirty," Strawberry said.
"I'm dirty,"
So we did...

A marathon for Snell and my arse hurts...

At least they played hard. The thought ran through my mind on Monday morning after a tough Sunday loss. Strawberry was preparing coffee as I flicked on the TV.
We went for a little walk out on 7th and enjoyed the ghostly feeling of 7th Avenue on a Monday morning. The rare game of Boston's Marathon at 11:00AM. Thank Christ not every game starts at this time.
"You watchin' the game baby?" Strawberry asked.
"Yes baby,"

Steven Wright goes up against Blake Snell. I was already nervous. The knuckleballer gave up two runs in the top of the first. Rays have a shot! We can salvage a win! Bottom of the 1st. Hanley Ramirez singles in ole' Peady. 2-1 Rays. Okay. Snell limits the damage. Bottom of the 2nd. One down. Runners on. Grounder hit to Tim Beckham who flips to Brad Miller for a double play to second and DROPS THE FUCKING BALL. It's more routine than watching kids take grounder out at Temple Terrace Little League. "I just dropped the ball," Miller would later admit in a post game interview.
Embarrassing.
Naturally, Snell loses his mind, gives up another run and let Boston take a commanding 4-2 lead.
Wright settled in nicely and went 6.0 IP. Around the 7th Souza Jr. singles in a run and leaves runners in scoring position. They intentionally walk Longo putting us in a perfect spot UNTIL Kevin Kiermaier and Brad Miller strike out swinging. What else is new? LoMo to the plate. Battles Ben Taylor and flies out to end the inning and essentially the game as Craig Kimbrel does what he does best, slam the door and Longo goes out with a few words. Probably, "why do I keep striking out umpire?"
Ugh. Another loss. Another ONE RUN loss. The Yankees are on an 8 game win streak. It's sickening and annoying to watch. The Rays are playing awfully sloppy baseball and things better tighten up.
"I just need to stay in the zone, I know that's what I have to do," Snell remarks in a post game interview.
Why don't you do it bubba?
Judging by the facial expression on Brad Miller's face, he was pretty embarrassed but what does it matter? He makes triple digits to drop baseballs and strike out at a high rate. The road trip ends on a 1-6 note and below .500. Does life get any better? There is an incredible strike out rate the Rays are on that are at a franchise record that flees my mind but it's substantially bad. Detroit comes into town Tuesday. Andriese v. Fulmer. Kill me now.

I threw a bottle at the wall and nearly killed the cat.
"Calm down," Strawberry yelled.
"Sorry,"
She eased the pain by getting us outside and into a Cuban joint with good palomilla steak sandwiches.
"I want kids," Strawberry muttered.
"Why can't they just win?"

The Easter Bunny and Alex Cobb...

There was a never ending happy hour at Back Door on 7th while watching the game. Strawberry was wearing a beautiful yellow dress and I had on a tie.

Pomeranz struck out 10 and Cobber wasn't all that great. Got knocked around if you will. We should have won this game but Danny Farq blew it and we never got back ahead. Chase Whitley was called up from Durham but it did not seem to matter. Dickerson and Beckham went deep yet we still managed to blow it. Alex Cobb's day finished at 5.0 IP, 11H, 4 R, 4 ER, 0 K, 1 BB. Basically, he gave us a chance.

We got more trashed than usual, I hid easter eggs around the bar, Strawberry giggled like a school child and I wished our pen was better.

Odo limps off the mound after one pitch in the 2nd and I smoked a pack of menthols...

In due fashion, I was eating some wings on 7th right near Centro Ybor. The home of stabbings, extreme protesting and one busy 7-11 Convenience store. Prior to coming into the wing joint, I went in there to buy a pack of smokes. "You like baseball?" the overweight guy behind the counter asks.
"Do you not see the hat?"
"Er...here is a coupon," he moans.
He passed me the slip of 7.11$ voucher for a Rays game. Jesus, they cannot even give these tickets away. If they build it, they will come.
Where did I hear that before? No matter...I lit my menthol, inhaled and thought about the tall task at hand (no pun intended for Chris Sale).
I ordered twelve BBQ wings, strapped in and waited for the ride that was about to start on Fox Sports Sun.

There he was. The tall lanky Lakeland native Chris Sale. What's not devastating about him? He has two fastballs that rev up to 96-98 MPH that work each part of the strike zone, an awkward Polk County Condor delivery and a disgusting breaking pitch he'll drop in there in the mid-to-low 80s. If you look at Chris Sale, he looks like a guy who you'd find shoulder to shoulder with in some shit hole bar in Central Florida with blurry faces like me. I'd haunted my fair share of bars and he seems to fit that mold to a tee. I don't wish this onto anyone but with those mechanics (been compared to Hall of Famer Randy Johnson) you wonder how long that arm holds up until something breaks down?
On our side, my man, Jake Odorizzi. The most steady guy in our rotation last year and looking for a bounce back start. Top of the first and Sale just mows them down. No problem. He works quick. Grabs the ball and pitches. Pounds the zone. Moves the pitches in the lower part of the zone. Gets Souza, Bourjos and Longo. No problem.
Bottom of the 1st. Oddo takes the hill and has to battle a bit but leaves unscathed. Top of the 2nd. Sale does what he does best. Bottom of the 2nd. Oddo ptiches then immediately grabs his hamstring. FUCK MY LIFE.
It reminded me of the feeling when Matt Moore threw that pitch back in 14' then grabbed his arm and had to get Tommy John Surgery. Still, it was his leg he grabbed, not his arm. Out comes Ron Porterfield (athletic trainer) and Captain Personality Kevin Cash. They have a little conference on the mound, Oddo takes a couple of pitches and winces each time. Out ya go bubba. In comes Erasmo and warms up in front of a very thick Red Sox lineup. Erasmo Ramirez was the feel good story of the first half of 2015. His first pitch was a fastball up to Mitch "two bags" Moreland who sends it to left field. Red Sox up 1-0. Erasmo gets through the next three on hard contact and limits the damage. Top of the third. Chris Sale begins getting out of whack a bit, walks two and Longo singles up the middle and gets Kevin Kiermaier in. Tie game. Erasmo holds them in check and finishes with 4.0 IP, 3 H, 2 SO. Not bad for a long man.
Our hitters couldn't figure out Sale BUT I noticed when he inherits base runners, he slows down and that's a sign of his weakness and a team needs to learn how to exploit that. Unfortunately, we didn't. Bottom of the 7th and Tommy Hunter is on the mound. I think he gave up two hits. We got an out somehow but I want to focus on how awful of a defender Tim Beckham is. Haunted or not by the 08' draft, get over it kid and DO YOUR FUCKING JOB. I am day dreaming about Willy Adames or Matt Duffy. He played so good in Spring, made the team and has played poorly ever since. With one out and men on 1st and 3rd, Daniel Robertson gets a ground ball sent to him at second base from Sandy Leon, he flips to Tim Beckham at 2nd for one, then Beckham doesn't throw to 1st in order to get the double play and getting us out of the inning. He doesn't even attempt a throw. Mitch Moreland scores and we get the next out.
We had a shot to score from a struggling Matt Barnes who essentially walked the bases loaded, got an out then induced a double play. Top of the ninth, Craig Kimbrel comes in and slams the door.

Shaking my head in disapproval, I go outside and begin chain smoking. Strawberry was visiting someone out in Tampa today, which meant I was alone aka I was going to drink myself silly. I stood on the street of 7th and admired the beauty of people. Men with potbellies smoking cigars with their wives and wavy hair. Children looking dumbfound into the screen of their phones, Spanish dudes looking curious, homeless people who've been decimated by crack and sunburn and bikers coasting by slowly.
"Hey buddy, can I bum a smoke?" this teenager asks.
"No sucker. Smoking kills,"
"Then why do you do it?" he snapped back.
"Because of Tim Beckham,"
The sun was setting in the Gulf.

Chris Archer Nearly Implodes and The Stadium Situation...

I found myself in some auto garage off 8th Avenue down in Ybor and Strawberry was out getting us some McDonalds. There has been a never ending sound in the Chevy and had to get it looked at. Aspirations told me it was time to get a new car but financially, I was economically challenged. It's amazing to think how much ballplayers make in comparison to blue collard types like me. Oh well, so it goes...
"It's going to be awhile, you might wanna chill out somewhere," says the mechanic.
So I did.
I went to some dark bar on 7th Avenue and cuddled up with a frosty beer.
"Meet me at the Dirty Shame," I messaged Strawberry.
"OK. XOXOXOXO," she responded.

In theory, Chris Archer is supposed to be our ace and at times has looked like it. Naturally since he's a smart guy, he tends to get into his head when things begin unraveling and plays on emotion. Tough luck bubba. The television screen played the game.
Reining Cy Young Award winner Rick Porcello up against Chris Archer. When Archer's fastball's command is solid, his follow up slider sweeps away from righties and drops in on lefties. An act of brilliance. From the get-go, Porcello was not on his plus stuff. Pretty insane guy when thinking about it. Drafted out of high school and thrown into a thick Tigers rotation of Scherzer, Fister, Sanchez and Verlander then thrown into Boston at some point but DomBrom is a questionable character hence why he works for such a "great" organization like The Boston Red Sox. Actually, it's fun to watch Porcello, he's possibly the only Red Sock I've ever liked and ever will. He just pitches. Regardless, The Rays offense got to him early and of all people, LoMo knocked his first career grand slam into left field off him after debuting Shane Peterson hit a two run bomb off him in the 2nd. Glorious. Tim Beckham is awful. I said it. Then the fifth inning happened. Archer began falling apart. He loaded the bases and worked nearly every batter to full counts. He was cruising through the four innings before but somehow managed to get all in his head and nearly collapse under pressure. Somehow he got out of that jam and finished his night basically. Judging by his body language, he was at a loss of confidence still his numbers looked OK. He pitched 102-62 for strikes and finished his night with 5.2 IP, 6 H, 1 R, 1 ER, 2 BB, 5 SO and leaves his ERA at 2.21. Not bad really but he could have gone 7.0 IP if he didn't start freaking out. Jumbo Diaz came in and did the job THEN Austin Pruitt came in. Poor kid. My heart goes out to him. He gives up 8 hits, "hits" a batter and gives up 4 runs and all earned. Why Kevin Cash kept him out there to die like that again is beyond me. Tampa Bay was up 10-1 or 10-2 (couldn't remember because of the alcohol) when he went out there and it felt like we were going to lose that game until they called on Alex Colome. God he's great. Mows them down. Attacks the zone and keeps total composure while out there. Quote me on this, Pruitt will get sent down soon and perhaps bring up Shultz or Whitley. Still, they pulled it out and got a much needed win AND the first won Chris Archer has had since 2012 against this wonderful Boston organization!

This guy in the bar was hanging out and buying people shots.
"Hey buddy, want a shot?" he asked.
"Sure sucker,"
He was a business guy of some sort and Strawberry wanted nothing to do with the conversation. We got on the subject of the stadium situation.
"St. Pete is by far the best place for the stadium. People who don't believe in that are foolish," he explained.
"I guess I am foolish,"
"You got a boat? I do," he asked.
"No, I'm poor,"
Strawberry laughed.
"Hillsborough County is in no position to get it. It makes more sense to develop the area around Tropicana Field and have them stay put there," he says while glancing at his phone.
"The stadium has been there for nearly twenty years and it hasn't altered the attendance a bit. After a World Series run, winning years, stadium upgrades and people still don't go. It will be Marlins Park version two,"
"You just don't know enough into it and the numbers," he cried.
"I don't. It's an observation,"
He seemed annoyed by my conversation and took it as an insult when all I was trying to do is engage into dialogue. Intellectualism if you will...
"Trump backs Jeter," he chuckled.
"Jeter is retired,"
"He still is in ownership," he snapped back.
Silence.
"I hate The Red Sox,"
We clanked glasses, Strawberry joined in and sang really bad karaoke.
The phone buzzed.
"Yo, your car is ready," the voice muttered.
"I can't drive, I can't move my face."

Andriese grinds through six innings, Cedeno blows it and one hefty hangover...

I hadn't moved from my chair in a couple of days and Strawberry was beginning to worry. "You never leave the house!" she cried.

"I know,"

"You need to take a walk or something," she moaned.

"Meh,"

I opened the notebook and began note taking. Matt Andriese was going up against phenom Severino.

On the outset of this game, I wasn't too high on the fact Andriese was going against this thick Yankees lineup and his numbers against them aren't too beautiful. What do you know, Hicks goes deep in the 1st and my heart already begins sinking. Andriese has given up a lot of long balls. It was refreshing to see him keep cool and grind through that inning to limit the damage. Somewhere in there, Mallex slapped a ball into left field and felt froggy overrunning second base and getting stuck in a pickle on the left side of the diamond until straining his calf and coming to a complete halt. He shouldn't have tried to outrun Jacoby Ellsbury's arm. Growing pains. Take Mallex out and insert Peter Bourjos. I don't love him, I don't him. He is kind of like Grady Sizemore but still has his knees. Severino was dealing with a 1 run deficit. His high octane fastball was moving in and out of the zone making the entire lineup look bad until Bourjos got a high up fastball and blasted that fucker to left field. My heart was revamped. Tie ballgame. Andriese pounded the zone his first two strikes then picked around. Throwing the ball down. Trust your stuff bubba. He loaded the bases in the 5th and struck out two and I think had someone fly out. Glorious. Leavem loaded. Andriese and Snell love to get to a pitcher's count of 0-2 then work the count back full 3-2. Frustrating to watch. That's how your pitch count creeps up and walks are given, which has been happening. Andriese is a grinder and got through on the line of 6.0 IP, 5 H, 1 R, 1 ER,3 BB,5 SO,1 HR. A good solid start to keep your team in the game from your fifth guy. Cash has been leaving them in longer too, which is refreshing to see. Injecting confidence. Going into the 7th with a 2-1 lead. The Rays had a shot. Sucre picked Judge off at first. Beautifully done chap. Then the bullpen happened...Erasmo did his job. Got the hitters to swing, make contact and knock them down. In here comes out "lefty specialist" who throws a cutter and curveball, Xavier Cedeno. His pitches this year have no control and either get hit really hard or are wild. They should have gone with Tommy Hunter but that's neither here nor there. I think he inherited a runner, left a curveball to float into the zone, Hicks turned on it and dropped that fucker into left field and essentially that was the ballgame. In the eight, Betances was struggling a bit and had two baserunners on, then mowed down, Longo and Brad Miller with runners in scoring position. What's crazy is The Yanks were 0-8 with RISP and the Rays 1-4 tonight but Severino finished his line with 7.0 IP, 5 H, 2 R, 2 ER, 1 BB, 11 K. Once woman beater Aroldis Chapman comes into the game, you can can it and that's what happened. Souza battled him but still lost the battle and Bourjos grounded out. 103 MPH fastballs are hard to hit. The Rays leave New York swept and evening their record at 5-5 for the year. Next to Boston and Arch takes on Chris Sale. So much for a prosperous first week.

I put down the pen and made some tea and put a little honey in it. Clears the throat after screaming. Strawberry got naked and we made passionate love.

Blake Snell implodes in The Big Apple.

My head was hurting but the words weren't. Strawberry was reading something as I jotted down some notes onto a paper:
There is something about how weird of a pitcher Blake Snell is. Perhaps it's a growing process but perhaps it's he cannot inherit base runners without imploding. He was cruising through the first four innings. Allowing hitters to make contact and the defense doing their thing. Rickie Weeks, Jr. gave him a 3-0 lead in the bottom of the first with a bomb to left field. By the fifth this all changed. He walked two. Tim Beckham committed an error that should've had one out but our first rounder committed another error. Despite his slumping, his defense hasn't been all that stellar either. Please Duffy! Please return!
Snell freaked out and spiked a ball leaving it to the backstop and allowing a free run. 3-1. It's just amazing how a pitcher has four really good pitchers yet cannot seem to control his fastball and walks people and picks around the zone when facing your 7, 8, 9 guys in the batting order. Ugh. Out goes Snell and in comes Xavier Cedeno. Walks in another free run. Gardner hits a come backer and no one is on second base due to the field playing in, no one at second and throws to first to at least get one out until the throw went south and Gardner slams into Rickie Weeks Jr. and the game is essentially lost. What a joke. There is even talk about sending Mallex Smith down. This team is a joke. I turned off the radio and muttered, "Go Devil Rays."

I put the pen down and passed out. Forget about it.

Needles and pins and Austin Pruitt's struggles...

I woke up in a dark corner of the apartment. Where had I been all night? Sunday mornings...the absolute worst of the worst. When you wake up from Sabbath yet your eyes are beat red from a heavy night from the bottle. I looked on my bed and saw the covers had been thrown off. Where was Strawberry?
Feeling like a ton of concrete, I forced my way to the table and saw the Sunday morning Tampa Tribune on the table with a cup of coffee. Strawberry was so thoughtful.
There was more nonsense to be said in the papers, more gossip about players and irrelevant stories. Fact is, players' lives off the field doesn't interest me, it's what they do on the field that matters. What did if I care Evan Longoria's restaurant was raking in triple digits? What did it matter if Kevin Kiermaier is getting engaged? Getting the win and doing it good, is all that mattered.

Hours burned by and I didn't leave the confines of the apartment nor my mind. I flipped on the television to watch Jake Odorizzi take on Marco Estrada. Brain felt like a burnt pancake. It was apparent after the first inning, Jake was going to labor. First of all, his fastball wasn't well located and the Jays knocked him all around the diamond. The cutter wasn't really cuttin' and I began throwing stuff. Perhaps this is a hangover effect from last season. Once we were down last year, it felt like the game was over. Still Jake labored through and gave us 6.0 IP, 6 K (love it). Corey Dickerson came through and knocked one opposite going to left field in the corner. Splendid. Steven Souza Jr. got into a scuffle with baby boy Tulo and should have dropped him a right hook instead he knocks a three run bomb into the seats. Is it me, or is he striking out a lot less? Even when he gets out, he makes contact. Excellent.
What would you know? Jesus Sucre got him a little piece and sent one into left field too. Estrada is filthy. The deception of his breaking pitch and fastball is stressful to watch. Josh Donaldson left the game with calf soreness running to first. These Blue Jays aren't looking to hot after the first week and we're looking damn good...

Monday woes...
Alex Cobb looked great, went 7.1 IN, 7 SO...not bad but overlooked by the guy who loves pine tar to throw pitches near perfect game until Longo spoiled that mess with a double. LoMo of all people sent one into the right field porch, which is pathetic for a ballpark, but we still got crushed.
I got pissed and drank a bunch of cough syrup to forget the pain.
"You okay?" Strawberry asked.
"It feels like I haven't left this chair in two days,"
A soft breeze crept in.
"You haven't," Strawberry chuckled.

Saturday morning grits and Chris Archer dazzles...

I had no recollection of picking up Strawberry and sitting in the strip club into wee hours of the morning. Live fast, sleep little. Chris Archer was going against Aaron Sanchez and it would be a duel no doubt.
We slept in late and had lunch. I scanned the stats from the night's previous game as Strawberry looked into the glow of her phone and the void of what was on there. There is no need to jump to conclusions but the fact the Rays already have a winning home stand really had me buzzing. Most people only care about the Lightning in this town.
"You got some of those pills?" Strawberry inquired.
There's more talk of The Rays moving out of Tampa Bay and St. Pete's mayor presented another stadium proposal.
"Yes. You talking about the adderall?"
Talking about a stranglehold on Hillsborough County. They need to figure out a solution by August 2017.
"Give me one," she pleaded.
I read in the paper Colby Rasmus had a set back in his return due to a collision with another outfielder in Port Charlotte. If they send down Mallex Smith, there is going to be hell to pay. I really want to see Brent Honeywell pitch.
The pill began juicing through our blood and later on in the day we went out to Boney's. It's one of those bars on the corner of two roads situated in a run down strip plaza where the dead fester. Strawberry was hooked to the fuckers and she enabled me.
"My teeth are grinding," she declared.
Word was on the internet that Sunsports and -now- Spectrum Television needed to strike a deal to cover the Rays throughout the season.
"Get a water and chill out,"
There he was. Lanky and tall. Chris Archer on the mound. His slider was really moving and his fastball command seemed top notch. Unfortunately Aaron Sanchez was on his game too. What's funny about these Blue Jays is you never consider their pitching over their hitting but a rotation of Stroman, Happ, Sanchez, Estrada and Liriano...not a bad mix for success. Too bad we ran Liriano off the other night. Bye bubba.
Somewhere in the 8th Archer maxed out at 100+ gave up a single to Josh Donaldson bringing in the go ahead run.
"I need some food baby," she whined.
What's important about this move by Kevin Cash is the confidence he put into his ace and the team believing in their guy. Yes, we gave up a lead but still, it displays something deeper than expected.
"I will order us some Chinese,"
The adderall had the innings going back and forth in this tie affair. Weeks Jr. and Lomo couldn't deliver. The Jays nearly got the go ahead until the 11th. Mallex doubled. John Gibbons decides to intentionally walk two. Longo strikesout.
The food arrives.
"I love this rice!" she declares.
Brad Miller comes up, works a full count to debuting Casey Lawrence.
Heart racing. Common now. Easy does it.
Next pitch. Ball four. Brad Miller throws his bat and the winning is issued for free.
YES.
"I'm ordering us shots!"
The boys stormed the field and piled on each other as I read Archer's line on display 7.2 IP, 5 H, 2 R, 2 ER, 3 BB, 8 K, 0 HR, wiped the sauce off my mouth, grabbed Strawberry off her feet and danced like fools around the bar while the living dead looked on...

The emotional rollercoaster of Friday evening...Andriese v. Liriano

Buzzing already by the time I entered Tropicana Field, the LSD had a total grasp of thought and body. The blue seats were grooving like the sight of a wave crashing onto the shores of St. Pete Beach. I took my seat out in left field and saw a couple of coworkers. Three of whom were married to women they hated and something tells me the feeling was mutual on their end as well. No matter...I saw Francisco Liriano warming in the pen. He had a funky delivery that I liked and remember his prosperous days with The Pirates in 2013-15. On the home side I saw Steven Souza Jr. stretching. I looked at his stats and he his hitting .389 already?!
What the...
Maybe the Will Myers trade for Jake Bauers and Steven Souza Jr. is going to pay off. The game began and things already began to unfold. Matt Andriese seems to have a nervous breakdown when he inherits base runners and loves to run 0-2 counts to 3-2 counts after attacking the zone then nibbling around these batters. What I loathe about these Blue Jays is how they can easily score simply from the long ball. That is typical for AL baseball.
The first inning finally came to a conclusion and one hour of my life had came to a close.
I already felt like we lost the game. Then the bottom of the first.
Liriano began walking dudes. Longo took a high fastball and crushed it into left field. My heart ran with warmth and an explosion of colors exploded as the ball landed into the seats. Drugs. They tacked on four more from there running Liriano out of the game and the shortest outing of his career. Kinda reminded me of Mark Buehrle's last outing at Tropicana Field. Short. The end of the line buddy.
Optimism ran high in my mind and I slipped off to get a drink. Every footstep felt like a Goliath step on the aluminum ground. Just behind center field is the Budweiser bar where cute girls serve you. I ran into my coworkers and kept a close eye on the screen.
"I will start making..." one of them began.
Then the Jays tacked on another run. Then another.
"And well, we are thinking about getting a..." a guy was saying.
Until The Rays loaded the bases and walked in two free runs.
"I think she wants..." another voice yelped.
I slammed my hands on the bar and roared.
Eyes were beating out of their skulls as the passion came out of me.
Austin Pruitt better prove he is worthy of that roster spot and Xavier Cedeno better learn to throw a straight pitch into the strike zone.
"Bud heavy please," I demanded.
Budweiser is trash beer but it's all they had.
I lost track of the inning and it was another offensive AL East warfare.
There's that word again. War.
"Oh god, here we go again, they are going to blow it," a guy said.
2016 revisited. Please. No, Anything but that again. Dana Eveland. Dylan Floro. Kevin Jepsen. A struggling Brad Boxberger. Outta here.
Somewhere in the sixth, Souza Jr. steps to the plate and doubles in the go ahead runs.
YES. Situational hitting. Corey Dickerson came in and knocked a double too. Daniel Robertson singles his first major league hit. YES. LoMo pinch hits for Rickie Weeks Jr. and drops in a bloop single putting the Rays up 9-7 at some point.
Time is of no concern when riding the blue wave.
Top of the ninth. Already here? Alex Colome came in and does what he does best...mow them down with that cutter and fastball.
The phone buzzes.
"Where are you baby?" Strawberry asks.
"About to leave, long game,"
"Did they win?" she asks.
"Did they ever,"
My coworkers dispersed to their suburban homes and I drove to this little run down gas station in Downtown St. Pete to buy a pack of gum and possibly a drink. A black homeless guy with a salt and peppered beard was standing out front with a sign reading "just want a beer".
Don't we all buddy, don't we all...

Blake Snell's fastball control and a hit of LSD...

Friday night's mean that tickets are a measling 7.11$ to go to a game and more tomahawk missiles were going to be fired. They are nearly giving them both away for free. Why not? Matt Andriese is slotted for the night and there's nothing else to do. I saw him get bombed at Steinbrenner Stadium in Tampa one hot Sunday afternoon on what he deemed "my best stuff."
I found myself in some shit hole squalor in the once prosperous Crystal Springs in this dude Nasty Nick's crib. Nick worked at a Dollar General in the neighborhood and was at best a rookie in the dealing of drugs.
"You going to a game tonight?" he asked while sitting on his couch.
"Yes,"
"How do you think they are gonna do this year? We pick up some bats?" he stammered while putting together the last pieces.
Let's see...Rasmus started his rehab. Mallex is going to be the small ball guy. Souza Jr. and Dickerson already on a tear.
"They will be fine,"
I paid him, put the keys in the Chevy, licked the tab and jumped on I-275. As I approached the Howard Franklin Bridge the LSD began consuming my mind and thoughts began to do adrift in the Bay. Blake Snell's arsenal is unbelievable. When he drops in that curveball, it's unfair to hitters and the way he knows how to use all four pitches at any count would seem he'd be an ace type.
"This is Rays Radio on 620 WDAE," the radio blared.
Jim Hickey was saying how great his stuff is at his age in comparison to former southpaws David Price and Matt Moore, which is saying a lot, as these two are proven studs. Once again...fastball command. Without it, you are nothing at the big league level. Throw all the gas and high octane stuff you got but if you can't locate it, you are worthless.
The sun shined through my shades creating colors that were like a Van Gogh. I was excited to see how Matt Andriese was going to pan out tonight.
The phone rang.
"Hey baby, how are you?"
Strawberry.
"Just got into work. Are you going to the game?" she asked.
"You know it,"
"Okay, pick me up tonight?" she asked in the little school girl way.
"You know it,"
The LSD was pulsing. There was Tropicana Field. It resembled a misshaped egg but in a peculiar way, I loved it. Still the stadium has to move into Tampa.
Standing in line with the fellow freaks, I began thinking about Matt Andriese's funky delivery. He does this double step move when in the stretch and sometimes get called for balks. You'd figure he'd simplify his delivery but he doesn't. What I like about him is his size, really chunky and grinds through his outings. He clearly isn't very athletic but still a grinder. Like Braves pitcher Aaron Blair. Soft spot for the chunky dudes. Andriese has a nice breaking pitch he isn't afraid to throw and is one to throw strikes until he inherits a base runner. Then all hell breaks loose. Gives up walks. Leaves his shit over the plate. He needs to steer the ship out of the storm in his mind and just pitch and let the defense behind him work. That's why they're there.
"Welcome tonight sir, have a fun game," a geriatric in a yellow shirt greets.
The LSD was beginning to REALLY set in now and odd visions were occurring as you could see the glow of the field from inside.
I need some peanuts...

Tanaka cries, Tuesday blues and more Strawberry...

Watching him walk off the field in shame brought tears of joy to my heart and toasted with Strawberry. The game ended in brutal fashion and the "mighty" Yankees were sent home losers. YES. The gods were great that day. Strawberry seemed to enjoy the spectacle but then again I was nearly annihilated prior to first pitch. We showed up at Ferg's Sports Bar where the elite of St. Pete come to chill and your drinks are served extra cold and expensive. Riddle me this, riddle me that, does one tip the bartender when it's already overpriced? Capitalism is a curious thing.

"Are we going to find tickets baby?" she asked while entering the patio.

"You know it,"

We managed to buy some off some bearded guy who clearly looked like he fell asleep on the sand somewhere and managed to purchase some tickets offline (or robbed someone). Scalpers (these are people who sell tickets are games) are vultures to the highest degree.  The moment they see one with curious eyes and a desire to buy, they smell it like a sixth sense. Organic Sunday feelings. 

"Hurry, slam your beer, we NEED to get in there," I demanded.

"Okay, okay!" she huffed.

The line was brutal and patience was thin. Women in thick makeup and men on steroids or too much fast food in their guts. Ah yes...America the beautiful. Our seats were in left field and the entire roster was announced. Seeing Chris Archer on the mound brought tears of joy to my heart and he was outstanding. His slider is devastating and his fastball location was flowing. Tanaka on the other hand gave up to bombs to Longoria and -who the fuck would ya know?!- LOGAN MORRISON. A clear memory of me hating on him surges into mind. Former Marlin and Mariner but I couldn't hate him when he plated in those runners and sent a moonshot just right of the tank out in right center.

Glorious. Absolutely glorious. I read the Tampa Bay Times on Monday morning, got infuriated and sent out angry Tweets and jogged around the block a couple of times to settle the nerves. 

"You okay baby?" Strawberry asked.

"Never better, never better," I explained.

Oddo tonight and season is underway. 

Opening Day Rays Starting Lineup, Democracy, Cocaine and strippers...

Ah yes. Opening Day for baseball. Nothing smells/feels truer to the American spirit than the sound of balls hitting the leather, the sound of bats cracking and a twat right in your face for Sunday morning breakfast. I woke up hungover from a near all-nighter at this strip joint just outside of Ybor City. "Strawberry" was my usual girl I'd go to due to the size of her breasts, the curly dark hair she has and this really nice Australian perfume she wears. Needless to say, we have been seeing each other for some time now and generally wind up back at my crib after a heavy night of snorting, drinking and throwing dollar bills. Roughly speaking, I get paid on Thursday afternoon and nearly burn up half of my wages by Saturday night. Truth be told, one knows he shouldn't do it but one also knows that one has to live. Furiously.
"Honey, can you make me some coffee?" Strawberry asked.
"Sure baby,"
I prepped the machine and sat down to open up the Tampa Bay Times. Their overweight star, Marc Topkin, wrote a bunch of nonsense about what he heard through the grapevine. Some other worthless drop of sperm wrote a negative prediction about how the Rays were projected to continue doing bad and will carry on as such.
If I wanted  a prediction, I'd read the weather report or go to church. Where do they find these bums? "Can you put some milk in there too baby?" she whined.
"Of course sugar,"
The line up is as follows:
1. Dickerson
2. KK
3. Longo
4. Brad
5. Souza Jr.
6. LoMo
7. T. Bex
8. Mallex
9. Chuck Norris
Then my man Arch getting the start against a pretty stacked New York Yankees lineup with Tanaka getting the ball for them. I saw this same match up exactly one week ago and it was a brutal affair. Luckily drafts were 3$ so I drank my sorrows away and wrote the tears off in my notebook. Just to see Mallex and Archer get starts is enough for me to want to drop more money into the American economy. Mallex is truly a guy who will develop as a player and one that is humble and has something this team hasn't had in some time...swag. I met Mallex in Port Charlotte one hazy Sunday morning while under the influence. He strutted down the walkway like a monk. Happy and content as he strolled along. My brother yelled immediately when seeing him and snapped selfies. "MALLEX YOU MY BOY!" became our slogan.
"Can you make some eggs baby?" she asked.
"Sure honey,"
I read more into the Tampa Bay Times and felt more anger surge through my veins. This clown Martin Fennelly (he is probably from Boston) wrote a distasteful article about how the Rays are still bad and how this will never end and of course the perpetual reference to his God, Joe Maddon. Fan boys never die. I guess the question that arouses in thought, while I get distracted by Strawberry bending over, is how is the local newspaper going to hire a bunch of cynical (and overweight) alleged "writers" to talk about our team in such a discouraging and helpless sense? As Strawberry begins to take off each article of clothing before pounding my American dream into her, the thought comes into play yet again, is Tampa Bay full of self-centered culturless honkies that have the rule of the day? While Strawberry rides me and screams, I envisioned a walk off win today or Archer goes nine scoreless and then she climaxes. We clean up after fornicating, sniff a couple of bumps and sip our coffees.
"You ready for the game baby?" she asks.
"Rays up," I retort.