The game was a 14-9 slugfest accented by 35 combined hits. That's just short of two hits per player. It started from the top of the first where we homered to grab the lead 2-0. They came right back in the bottom half and tied it up 2-0 with four hits of their own. In the next inning they kept pouring it on, scoring 7 and bringing the 2 inning time lapse to 1.5 hours. Ouch.
On these days pitchers are kinda like fish and the hitters are shotguns...we're trapped in a barrel. You get the picture. The starter doesn't get a choice, he has to go out and try to get one out at a time. It feels like everything you throw up there gets hit. If it's a good pitch it finds a hole. If it's a bad pitch it finds the bleachers in left. The bullpen is sweating it down there and not just because of the heat. They know that the hitters are locked in, and they hope that when the phone rings they're name isn't called. It's not like college where someone steps up in Herculean fashion and says "I will stop the bleeding." Some days you just bleed out until the game's over. Yesterday was one of those days. We finished the 3 hour and 45 minute battle bleeding and bruised, but still breathing.
There are no post game blow ups. No grand speeches. Everyone just saunters into the clubhouse with the same glazed look on their faces. We made it out defeated but alive.
Skip says "Shower up and eat fellas. We'll get em tomorrow." Perhaps we will, but can we at least try to keep it under three hours.