Tag Archives: Matt Kemp

Well That’s Good: As Nationals Clinch, Sphincters Unclench

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Both Hanley and Jayson realize that this was a bad time for Hanley to try and let out a stealthy fart. (Photo by Rob Carr/Getty Images)

Final Score: Nationals 4, Dodgers 1.

Dame of the Game:

Chris Capuano: For throwing the wild pitch that gave us the lead that gave us a playoff spot. Thank you, for that historic moment in franchise history. It’s up there with other moments of incompetence, like when the Nats won their first game ever thanks to the other team forgetting to wear pants and having to forfeit.

Shame of the Game:

Matt Kemp: Not for his performance tonight, but for his HR yesterday. You jerk, making us wait a whole extra day to experience this tremendous feeling of happiness. You’re like my wife. Only she makes me wait a bit longer to experience such happiness. It’s been almost as long as the Washington postseason drought…

———-

The Nationals are headed to the playoffs. While this man might be shocked to hear it, we are not kidding him. For the first time in this team’s history, they will get a taste of postseason baseball. Which kind of tastes gross and sweaty, after all the time Tommy LaSorda spent stewing away in it. They have still yet to clinch the division, as their magic number is 8. A truly magical number, considering how much it looks like boobs. But for now, let’s enjoy the fact that this team has made the postseason at all. Knowing that on October 5th, the Nationals will still be playing baseball is a great feeling. And knowing that it could all be over 5 days later is a miserable feeling. I know I shouldn’t be a pessimist, but after seeing things like John Kruk exist, it’s hard to think that the world can give us inspiring, beautiful things anymore.

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Chipper Jones Out of All-Star Final Vote

Chipper Jones tries to explain away the ground-up human flesh in the garbage. His bat is not convinced.

Whether because he was named as a replacement to the All-Star team for the injured Matt Kemp or because he’s too ashamed to face the scrutiny of voters now that he’s been exposed as a mass-murderer (who can really say), Chipper Jones has dropped out of the NL All-Star Final Vote. This undoubtedly increases the odds of Bryce Harper. He has one less competitor and, in particular, one less competitor who’s likely to kill him and feed his corpse to a woodchipper. So that’s good news all around.

The only man remaining ahead of Harper in the vote is David Freese. So keep voting for Bryce and ‘freese’ David’s vote total right where it is.*

*Note: a vote for Bryce does not necessarily constitute a vote for that pun, which you might not have liked. You probably shouldn’t have liked it if you did.

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Symphony in M. Minor: Braves Outplay Nats Despite Flat Starting Pitcher

No one likes to sit near David Ross cause he looks like he’d kill anyone who tried. (Photo by Kevin C. Cox/Getty Images)

Final Score: Braves 7, Nationals 5

Dame of the Game:

Adam LaRoche: 2-3, 2 2B, 2 R, RBI, 2 BB, K. Deck the halls with Adam LaRoche. Fa la la la la, la la LaRoche.

Shame of the Game:

Chien-Ming Wang: 2 IP, 4 ER, 5 H. Stephen Strasburg left the game due to heat stroke. I hope Chien-Ming Wang left the game due to normal stroke.

——

So apparently it was really hot in Atlanta. I wouldn’t know, being in DC, where it was just slightly less really hot. Of course, I stayed within the friendly confines of very-much-conditioned air, oblivious to the maelstrom of flame that no doubt would have greeted me had I set a foot outside my door. As such, I have NO SYMPATHY whatsoever for Stephen Strasburg, who departed after three innings due to “heat exhaustion.” His untimely exit led to two innings of quintessentially latter-day Wangian baseball, by which I mean Chien-Ming Wang gave up a lot of runs.

Clearly we need to toughen Strasburg up. This is the second time this year that he’s left a game because part or all of him was too hot–first the groin, then the whole country (sounds like a strange call to revolution). How should we go about the toughening? To prepare him for the former problem, I’m sure there are some CIA people the Nats can call up to give Strasburg a quick lesson on the finer points of genital-based interrogation. As for the entire-body heat issue, perhaps forcing him to go to work for a few sweltering days in a full suit and tie, like everyone else in DC, would do the trick. If not, there’s always boiling oil. Let the Nats trainers know about these great ideas if you see them. Continue reading

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Hey, I Heard You Like the Wild Ones: Rodriguez Throws Game to the Backstop in 9th

If I took Tom Gorzelanny to face Matt Kemp, it'd be a home run.

Final Score: Dodgers 4, Nationals 3

Douchebag of the Game:

Bryce Harper: 1-3, 2B, RBI, 1 Awesome Throw. I just can’t bring myself to call Bryce Harper a “dame.” He really should get this award every game he plays, but I’ll only give it to him when he does something particularly noteworthy, like play pretty well in his debut or hand the pitcher a thank you note when he hits a home run.

Shame of the Game:

Henry Rodriguez: .2 IP, 2 ER, 3 H, 2 K, 3 Horribly Wild Throws. Brad Lidge’s physical form is gone, but he seems to have left his spirit behind. You must fight it, Henry Rodriguez. Banish that Brad Lidge essence within you to the save-blowing realm it came from.

———-

I haven’t questioned much that Davey Johnson has done thus far this year. After all, there’s no point in second guessing managerial decisions when the team is winning games. But last night, Davey Johnson did a bad thing. Was it the worst thing he’s ever done in his life? Probably not. I don’t know how many people he’s killed, shops he’s lifted, treasons he’s committed, backs he’s stabbed, genocides he’s condoned. Perhaps hundreds. Perhaps thousands. But this thing that he did last night has to be up there among the very bad of the very worst. He let Tom Gorzelanny face Matt Kemp in a situation where if a home run happened, the Nationals would lose. A home run happened.

Now, this wasn’t a case of the best hitter in baseball facing the worst pitcher in baseball, but that’s only because Sean Burnett wasn’t available to pitch. The most apt analogy that comes to mind is an emperor setting up a gladiator duel between a retarded Christian baby with no knees and a pride of lions. Thumbs down, Davey Johnson. Continue reading

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HandKershaw Wipes Away Mucus-y Nationals as Dodgers Take Series Opener

"Ohhhhhhhh yeah, time to lick off some SWEET HAND JUICE. mmmmmmmmmm SO GOOD." -Clayton Kershaw
(Photo by Harry How/Getty Images)

Final Score: Dodgers 3, Nationals 2

Dame of the Game:

Adam LaRoche: 2-4, HR, 2 RBI, R, K. Adam LaRoche is the only one on the Nationals who remembers what to do with his large wooden club, which makes the rest of the Nats offense dumber than cavemen.

Shame of the Game:

Mark DeRosa: 0-4. Mark DeRosa is slugging .081. There should probably be a less positive-sounding word for that total bases/at bats average for people under .100.  Like “whimpering.” Mark DeRosa is whimpering .081.

——-

Ashes swirl over the battlefield. What was once a pristine field of grass and clay is now blackened and barren. The place reeks of charred flesh and death. Mike Rizzo, astride his trusty warhorse, surveys the carnage and grimaces.

The Nationals forces had made great advances in the early stages of the battle, fighting back the forces of Evil. Rizzo’s right flank, the Starting Pitchers, had been particularly successful, carving huge swaths in the enemy’s ranks and gaining valuable strategic territory. But after these quick victories, the enemy adapted. They sensed a weakness in the Washington army. The left flank–the Offense–was wavering. And this enemy was hungry for weakness.

The demonic horde pounced, and the flank’s collapse was precipitous. Adam LaRoche did his best to stave them off, waving his gleaming lumber like a man possessed, felling any enemy who came near. But he was not enough. Ian Desmond was actually possessed–after fighting reasonably well for a while, his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head and he turned around and punched a more-confused-than-normal Tom Gorzelanny in the neck. All around them, the lines were crumbling. First Michael Morse fell, an arrow protruding from his lat. Then Ryan Zimmerman, an axeblade jutting from his shoulder, crumpled to the ground. “You must…go on…without me…” he whispered, before his eyes glazed over. In the Bullpen center, Brad Lidge was randomly struck by a lightning bolt despite the fact that it was sunny. Weird. Continue reading

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