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...
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