ALDS Game One Recap
Whew, the bit is alive. It’s been a hairy few weeks.
Maintaining pessimism after winning the division, clinching a first round playoff bye, seeing Cal hit 60 bombs, etc., etc., has been challenging.
Here’s a quote from my editor:
“As I’ve been eagerly repeating to anyone who’ll listen, as I think it makes me sound smart, lately it’s become increasingly difficult for me to maintain my negativity towards this Mariners team with any sort of conviction.”
We here at MAD Unlimited had been engaged in high-level discussions about how we might pivot our content should the M’s start winning games in October.
But we forgot who we were talking about.
Today, the bit is alive and well. And we can once again proclaim….
The Mariners are Dead.
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The procession began with Big Papi, A-Rod, and Jeter all picking the M’s to win the series in four or five games. Papi and A-Rod should have known better: they got off this sinking ship when they had the chance.
Narrated by Pierzynski, Waino, and the Faceless Man (Adam Amin) in a very snug booth, the broadcast cuts to Seattle, where George Kirby dramatically unveils his pedo-nazi mustache. They cut to Cal, who looks nervous (dare I say constipated?), almost like he hasn’t been here before. Which of course, he hasn’t.
It doesn’t matter. The baseball begins. Kirby is surviving. The strike zone is wider than the moon for us. Julio hits an unforeseen solo shot. 1-0 M’s. Leny’s feels like Leny’s.
We get to the fifth. With a man on first, pitching coach Pete Woodworth walks to the mound to remind Kirby that the upcoming batter, Kerry Carpenter, hits on average one home run off George Kirby per two at-bats against — and he has already faced him once tonight.
Kirby, presumably completely caught off guard by Fox’s decision to cut to a fan wearing a Walla Walla Sweets hoodie, ignores this advice and delivers a high fastball to his kryptonite.
Can’t argue with math. Before you can say, ‘Kerry Carpenter looks like a delusional, unhappily married middle-aged woman,’ it’s 2-1 Tigers.
We reach the sixth. Randy walks, Cal gets a base hit. Julio drives in Randy. Tie game. Top of the order is as advertised. Josh Naylor comes to the plate.
Naylor is married to Latin-Canadian singer Chantel Collado. You may know her from songs such as “Mentiras Baratas”, or “Como Tu Mujer.” More likely, you know that she is due to deliver the couple’s first child this weekend. And that she still lives in Arizona — meaning Naylor will likely fly to join Collado at some point in the series and miss critical playoff baseball games to witness the birth of his firstborn child.
We needed a big Naylor game. He walked in the first inning and rocked a fly ball deep to right in his next plate appearance, reassuring fickle minds that he was indeed the prince that was promised.
Back to the sixth inning. Runners on first and second. Naylor, surely possessed by whatever cosmic powers enchant a newly crowned father, toeing the batter’s box… But even the supposed preeminence of fatherhood couldn’t have prepared him for the sort of dense, demonic baseball scourge that scours the air over T-Mobile Park.
Without a whimper, our cat-eyed prince proceeded to ground into a double play. The Mariners are still dead.
Innings six through nine were mostly filled with half-assed conversations, evening plans which would fall through, and debates on whether to drink or not.
Next thing you know its nine o’clock pm, you are starving, and — what the fuck? Why is Carlos Vargas pitching? Vargas, one of only a handful of players so irrelevant they didn’t warrant a write-up in yesterday’s dump, likes to give up his runs like a little-leaguer who never quite made it to Williamsport — by way of walks and wild pitches.
Before you know it, it’s 3-2, Tigers, going into the bottom of the 11th.
Randy grounds out. Cal, weary after cleaning up Vargas’s vomit in the top half and generating 50% of his team’s offensive production, gets jammed on an inside curve and pops out to third. Julio, naturally, rips a single. I’ve never said a bad word about that guy.
Two outs, speed on first. Finally, it’s Naylor. A chance to etch himself as an Edgar Martinez-esque figure in the minds of baseball fans across the northwest.
Groundout. 3-2, Tigers win. Skubal on deck tomorrow. I’m in a bad mood, which is putting my girlfriend in a bad mood, which is in turn putting me in a bad mood.
The Mariners are dead.
Player Highlight: Julio Rodriguez
Julio Rodriguez. 3-for-5 with a home run. Provided a death-throes single in the bottom of the 11th.
Three numbers from game one of the ALDS:
0: The number of hits combined hits from Arozarena, Naylor, Polanco, Suarez, Canzone, Robles, Raley, and Crawford (yep, that’s the whole gang besides dumper and Julio)
0: Number of Divisional Series wins since 2002.
0: Number of runs given up by relievers not named Carlos Vargas. (Nice work guys. See stat #1.)
Prediction Tracker:
Eugenio Suarez (from pre-series prediction): “LOTS OF STRIKEOUTS! Swinging at and missing balls by multiple feet. Nonchalant stance, blowing bubbles, striking out with runners in scoring position. Lots of good vibes, crowd on its feet… and he strikes out. No home runs this series, not even in a 7-2 loss. He’ll cost himself money he plays so poorly. Tanks his value. Hits .092 with no home runs. Gets one RBI on a sac fly. Alex thinks he’ll have 12 K’s.”
UPDATE: 0-for-4, including two strikeouts and the feeblest groundout of the night.
George Kirby (from pre-series predition): “Alex thinks he’ll do his best Arlington-High-School-JV-tennis-following-a-bad-shot impression after he allows a bunch of home runs.”
UPDATE: He literally bit his glove after giving up the Carpenter shot!
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