:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

:: Thursday, September 22, 2005 ::

:: There's always next year ::

I'm coming up on the two year mark of my move to Miami Beach (the 24th) and it got me thinking about the how horribly wrong things have gone for my beloved Dodgers this year. (My brain is strange that way.) Two years ago, we finished the year in second place, having wasted one of the greatest performances by a pitching staff in history thanks to a group of hitters that couldn't score even if you strapped them to a keg and airdropped the bunch into a sorority house during spring break. But there were flashes of hope in that there was talk of a new GM taking over and making moves to revive the offense.

The following year lived up to that promise, sort of. The pitching was solid, the defense was spectacular, and we were scoring runs. There were some questionable moves (trading away Guillermo Mota and the heart and soul of the team, Paul Lo Duca...) but others that worked (... for clutch hitter Steve Finley) and it produced our first postseason berth in quite some time in dramatic fashion: a late-inning, walk-off grand slam by Finley that clinched our spot. That we beat the Frisco Giants in process just made it that much more awesome. Of course we got our asses raped by the St. Louis Cardinals but there was one gleaming moment in Game 3 when Jose "My Wife has Huge Cans" Lima pitched a complete game shutout, giving the Dodger their first postseason victory since 1989.

We were supposed to build on that success this year. We brought in proven run producer Jeff Kent. World Series hero Derek Lowe would compliment flamethrower Brad Penny. Jayson Werth would be healthy and there were rumors he'd dump that useless "y" in his name. Milton Bradley went to anger management counseling in the offseason. But there were questions. The new GM signed a washed-up Jose Valentin. We didn't resign Adrian Beltre (looking back, a good move since he's having a horrible year in Seattle). We gave talented but fragile (and ultimately useless) ourfielder J.D. Drew a five-year contract, indentical to a deal we gave talented but fragile (and ultimately useless) pitcher Derren Dreifort; a guy who spent more time recovering from injuries than actually playing. We lacked of a proven catcher.

But the season started off great. And it was good. But the injuries started piling up. And things got bad fast. Cy Young winning closer (and my favorite player) Eric Gagne hurt his elbow eating meatloaf sandwich (because he put two slices of bread on an entire meatloaf). Drew, whose skeleton is made of peanut brittle, is out for the season thanks to a broken bone after being hit by a pitch (a changeup no less). Milton Bradley hurt his knee kicking over a game board. Emerging Gold Glove shortstop Cesar Izturis needs elbow surgury. Hee Seop Choi strikes out at the plate more than I do at a bar. Groundball pitcher Lowe, despite being healthy, already gave up a career high home runs playing a park where it's hard to hit home runs. Owner Frank McCourt is more interested in desecrating the hallowed grounds of Dodger Stadium in search of revenue than fielding a winning team. And in a pointless display of nepotism, he hires his wife as V.P. She's a clueless harpy. And as of right now, we lost the last series against the Friggin' Giants. But then again, the Giants should win since Barry Bonds is back (now that he pissed all the steroids out of his system) and we're fielding a glorified minor league team.

But there's hope for next year. A lot of the rookies playing right now show promise and ability to be future starters. Gagne and Izturis will be back next year. But this season? Not fun. Not fun at all. In fact I've made a list: things that are more fun and things that might be more fun than watching the Dodgers this year:

Things that have been more fun.
1. Watching the Florida Marlins play, especially when Dontrelle Willis pitches.

2. Seeing everyone else in our division completely stink up the joint.

3. Having diarrhea so explosive that I practically levitated off the toilet.

4. Asking a girl for her number, only to have her tell me "I don't remember it."

Me: How do you not remember your own number?

Girl: I just got a new number.

M: So go find your phone.

G: Ok. Stay here. (WALKS AWAY. RETURNS AFTER A FEW MINUTES.) I can't find it. Give me your number.

M: (BLANK STARE) Um, ok. It's...

G: I'll call you (SMILING ENTHUSIASTICALLY)

M: (SKEPTICAL) Cool.

(She never called. On a side note, I've been turned down before but that's the first time I've ever heard the "I don't remember" rejection. Seriously, any guys ever heard this? Any girls ever use this?)

5. Working frantically on a project 36 hours before deadline and finding out my laptop has 40 minutes of juice left. Because my charger broke. At two in the morning.

6. Playing goalie and deflecting a shot off my balls.

7. Being told by a creepy gay guy that he "likes my hair."

Things that might be more fun than watching the Dodgers play this season.
1. Being a Red Sox fan and watching Aaron Bleepin' Boone hit that homer off Wakefield.

2. Getting so incredibly drunk that you vomit into your cup of beer only to drink from that same cup because you're too drunk to realize you just threw up into your beer.

3. Being on this Jet Blue flight.

4. Dry-shaving your entire crotch area and then dipping it in rubbing alcohol.

5. Having a one-night stand and waking up with a vicious rash.

6. Scrubbing the petrified fecal matter on the side of your toilet.

7. Being a wingman and having to distract "the friend" by making out with her despite the fact that she bears a striking resemblance to a sick catfish.

Again, the last six are strictly hypothetical. But the point being, all these things? More fun than watching the Dodgers. A lot more.

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 5:43 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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