Before we begin, please remember to use the comments to extend your sympathies to my friend Lori.
But we'll return to that.
I've reached the point in my melding of baseball and blogging where I begin to sketch out during the game what my Nats Diary (a.k.a. "The Most Boring Part Of Garfield Ridge") will cover. Mostly to get a leg up on the night, as by the time I get home, I'm tuckered out, and if I'm gonna crank out these postings, I want to do them quickly.
Well, by the sixth inning or so tonight, the hook for the diary-- anticipating a win, of course-- was Nationals pitcher John Patterson's masterful performance on the mound against the Los Angeles Dodgers.
In fact, the game would eventually end up being one for Patterson's brag wall: his first complete game-- a shutout to boot!-- and 13 strikeouts, the most he's ever thrown in a game.
Unfortunately for my budding career as a baseball manager, I would have kept Patterson from ever finishing the game. And worse.
See, the Nats were leading the Dodgers 2-0 in the bottom of the 8th, with the bases loaded-- and no outs! It looked as if Washington was about to engage the dreaded "Hit Machine," that unstoppable-yet-deliciously-satisfying bases-loaded phenomena that just ends up scoring run after run, in dribs and drabs.
However, standing in the way was the bottom of the Washington order, and by "bottom" I mean "ass end":: catcher Gary Bennett, shortstop Cristian Guzman, and finally, pitcher John Patterson.
Bennett can hit. . . barely. Still, he ended up fizzling at bat, but thankfully didn't take anyone with him. 1 out.
Guzman? Usually a guaranteed ground-into-double-play. Except, incredibly, tonight-- he had not one but *two* RBIs, the second coming in the bases-loaded 8th with a bullet single through the gap.
Before Guzman got his hit, benchwarmer Carlos Baerga prepped to pinch-hit for Patterson, the Nats figuring that with 2 outs, they'd need to pull out the stops to get the insurance RBI. Some people were booing the imminent substitution, but c'mon, you need the insurance. Besides, if Patterson doesn't come out to pitch the 9th, big whoop-- you've got Chad Cordero to close the game.
Anyway, Guzman got his miraculous hit, and now here's the situation: Nats leading by 3-0 after Guzman's RBI, the bases are loaded, still one out.
So, do you leave Patterson in to bat with one out?
*I* would have taken him out. Washington manager Frank Robinson left him in.
Patterson goes down with a pop fly. A predictably wasted at-bat. Or was it?
Carlos Baerga is not a power-hitter, but unlike the .030 average John Patterson, Baerga can actually *hit* the ball. So, at best, Baerga dings in a single for a run or two-- but at worst, Baerga hits into an inning-ending double play.
However, by having Patterson dead-ball in the order, the Nats lose the at-bat but bring in the deep threat Brad Wilkerson. Which is exactly what happened.
Bottom of the 8th. Bases loaded. Two outs. Full count on Wilkerson.
The result? The first grand slam in the history of the Washington Nationals.
Beautiful history.
And as for a bonus, guess what? After ~25 years of attending ball games, it was also the first grand slam that I have ever witnessed in person.
I still hold out hope for the no-hitter. I know I'll never see a perfect game. But tonight, I saw for myself one of the greatest plays in sports.
Afterwards, John Patterson comes out for the 9th inning, pitches enough to end it, and the Nats shutout the Dodgers by a score of 7-0.
Oh, yeah. . . I mentioned sympathy for my friend Lori.
Well, I originally had both tickets to tonight's game, but earlier in the season I swapped with Lori one ticket for another. So, she was supposed to come to tonight's game with me.
Alas, she couldn't make it, for some unknown-yet-in-hindsight-surely-terrible-reason.
So, she missed John Patterson's first complete game.
And she missed John Patterson's career-high 13 strikeouts.
And she missed a 7-0 blowout desperately needed by the struggling Nats.
And she missed the first-ever grand slam in Washington Nationals history, by fan-favorite Brad Wilkerson.
Ergo, please, everyone: sympathies for my friend Lori.
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RFK Notes: Actually, given tonight's temperature-- come first pitch, the thermometer read 185 degrees in the shade-- it's probably a good idea that Lori missed the game.
Not because of the heat-- hey, I suffered through that, so could anyone-- but because of the man-pleasing side-benefit of Washington summers.
Let's just say, I remain appalled at the trend towards giving young women breast enlargement surgeries as going-away to college gifts. Awful, terrible trend. Disgusting, really.
Likewise, I can't believe these young women go out into the sweltering sauna of RFK Stadium dressed only in baby-tees and daisy dukes. I don't know about you, but I really can't stand the sight of belly rings, they make me ill.
Oh, and what's with the not wearing bras? How uncomfortable that must be. I can't fathom such nubile malfeasance.
I'm simply glad that the fair Lori wasn't there to watch me witness all this filth, inning after inning.
After inning.
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