As I predicted...

I have just awaken from a nap with my dog, Molly the Collie, who tucked her wedge-shaped head and extremely long snout underneath my face and chin. Unfortunately, it's 95 degrees and the AC is out. After a rather grueling workout today, I made a turkey sandwich and laid down to watch the Dodgers and the Cleveland Indians at the Ravine. (First time ever the age old Tribe have graced the Ravine with their presence, what with them being an American League team and all. Such is the novelty of interleague play. At any rate the oppressive heat along with the Dodgers' typically anemic offense put me in an overheated, somnolent state where, upon waking, one feels like he just spent an entire night in a storage shed. Not only that, but the dog's fluff has become one with my unshaven face which behaves like velcro with her summer shed.

I hate to say I told ya so, but if you care to peruse my last blog, I told ya so. Cliff Lee shut the Blue down just like I said he would, but the Dodgers were able to climb back in the game against the awful Tribe bullpen. I have to blame the loss, not only on the crappy Dodger’s offense which is tacit, but on Joe Torre. I really can’t stand the whole “closer” designation. It’s too limiting. Your best relief pitcher should be available to you more often than just the ninth inning. Back in the 60’s and early 70’s, teams did just fine without these delicate specialists. That being said, Takashi Saito has the make of a lion. The Cowardly Lion. He has no idea what to do when he’s brought in for anything other than a save situation. He has tremendous stuff, but he just gets visibly and obviously, well, for lack of a better term, scared shitless. Once fear sets in, he falls apart like a little school girl. Joe Torre simply CANNOT use Saito in anything but save situations unless it’s been days and days since he’s pitched and he needs the work. So, what happens, Saito comes in to pitch the 9th (or was it the 10th?) in a tied game and coughs up the runs with amazing efficiency.

So, then today, as I predicted, they did nothing against C.C. Sabathia, save the much needed homer by Kemp who stunk in his other at bats. (also, nice play by Mattin in the 8th inning. He was extremely fortunate the Indians didn’t score that inning on his awful centerfield gaffe. Also, If C.C. does become available, I suggest the Dodgers make a move)) Look, bottom line is, the team can’t hit. Loney has a 9 game shitting streak with a couple of extra base hits and a homer peppered in there, but no one is driving in runs. Yawn. Dodger bats makes great pitchers look like sure Hall of Famers, good pitchers look like great pitchers, mediocre pitchers look like great pitchers and bad pitchers look like decent pitchers. In essence, they stink.

I remember the days when the summer was wonderful in LA. When there was the beach, the cool blue pools in my friends’ yards, the smell of jasmine in the air, Otter Pops in the evening and nothing to do but play ball and await the Dodgers invariable pennant drive. I know I can’t have those summers back, but can we ever get those Dodgers back? Surely, Mr. McCoourt must remember those summers and he must… oh yeah, I forgot. He’s just a rich idiot from Boston. He doesn't know jack about what it meant to be a Dodger fan.