Actually, the words running through my mind last night were much more, uh, colorful than that, but if I use them here they’ll just get asterisked out by the filter that protects our delicate sensibilities.
I was downright giddy after Cliff Lee’s Game 1 gem, so giddy in fact that I never got around to blogging about it yesterday. Now that good mood has been replaced by one a bit more foul. I keep reminding myself that my rational mind knew the Phils wouldn’t sweep the Yankees, that there would be at least one loss, but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant.
As I have a tendency after a loss to think not-very-nice thoughts about the opposition and the vast majority of their fans, thoughts molded by my formative years spent growing up in northeastern Pennsylvania surrounded during the summer by very annoying denizens of NYC who chose to vacation there while complaining that nothing was as good there as it was in New York, making me wish I could tell them all to go back home if it was so much better there, but…oops, sorry, got sidetracked there a bit…and darn it, I was going to once again abide by my not-saying-anything-at-all-if-I-couldn’t-say-anything-nice rule, but my fingers betrayed me.
Anyway, Ryan Howard can add a less glamorous “award” to his NLCS MVP trophy, the dreaded Golden Sombrero.
Yep, Howard struck out four times last night; three times against Burnett and once against Rivera. Not good, Ryan, not good. Please get back in the groove you had against Colorado and L.A.
Recent history would suggest that the Game 2 loss is not a portent of doom – the Phillies lost Game 2 of last year’s World Series and this year’s NLDS and NLCS, and all of those series ended up turning out pretty good for the boys in red. So I’ll get my bad mood out of my system today, and be ready to watch on Saturday as the series moves to Philadelphia (after washing the bad luck out of everything I was wearing last night, of course).