Final Score: Marlins 2, Nationals 1
Dame of the Game:
Gio Gonzalez: 6 IP, 2 ER, 5 H, 9 K. Fresh off his All-Star appearance, Gio pitched like a star, though not all that great a star. More like a class-M main sequence dwarf with a few ice planets orbiting it. Not about to go supernova or anything, but still.
Shame of the Game:
Michael Morse: 0-4, 3 K. Morse the pity that he did not play better in this game.
I had seafood for dinner Friday night. Then the Nationals beat the Marlins. I’m a very superstitious person, so naturally I had no choice but to have seafood for both lunch and dinner the next day in the hopes that it would work again.
It didn’t work again. My eating of two whole fish yesterday did not correspond to the Nats metaphorically eating The Fish. This is very distressing. Superstitions have never failed me before. What am I going to do now? Do I have to abandon the idea that my personal actions will affect the outcomes of baseball games, a principle on which basically every action I take is based?
I cannot accept that. There must be some alternate explanation. Perhaps my eating two fish canceled each other out. But no, that doesn’t seem to make sense, the fishes should have complemented each other. Maybe I also ate too many other things that were not fish, diluting the efficacy of my food-based cosmic energies? Yes. Yes, that must be it.
Now I am plagued by self-doubt, second-guessing my every bite at yesterday’s meals. Did my fishless breakfast cause the Nats to let Mark Buehrle only throw 26 pitches in the first three innings? Did the salad I allowed myself at lunch allow the Marlins to scratch across two runs against the otherwise excellent Gio Gonzalez? What about…oh no…the slice of roast beef I ate along with my fish at dinner…that’s it. That’s the only explanation for the Nats being unable to score against the awful Miami bullpen. I mixed turf with surf…and I payed the price.
The game was so close that the outcome could have been altered by the most minute change in my daily diet. Even the preparation of the fish in non-fishy sauces could have tipped the balance to a Nationals defeat.
My choice for Sunday is clear. I can take no more risks. I must dive into the ocean myself and bite directly into the fish with no intermediaries. If I hunt well, the Nats can’t lose. I must not waver in my duty.
…teach the Nats to fish and they’ll almost certainly finish the season with a better record than the Marlins.