Did ya see where Andrew Romine got used by his dead duck manager Brad Ausmus to hold an entire MLB game hostage??? Romine's yester-day begun in left-field, wherest he snagged a liner and fielded a grounder. His second stanza was spent in center-field, quietly. In the third he was dispatched to right-field, scooping up a base-knocker there. He caught a pop-up in the fourth frame from the hot-spot. Then in the fifth, Romine doth did turn a DP at SS. When the sixth came, he took second sans action. He caught the seventh, to the tune of a passed-ball; then Romine took to the eighth-inning rubber -- got a grounder -- then moved to first. In the final inning he continued to field first, and made the last-out.
All as all but ex-manager Ausmus laughed maniacally from the dug-out, in a final display of de facto absolute power corrupting rather oddly in a stunt which hijacked the evening. I won't say that Romine was a pawn here, held captive against his will, but I will say I noted some odd blinking patterns through-out...
In other managerial endings, Terry Collins, the Mets skipper of seven campaigns, was shown the club-house door in as classy a manner as ya'd 'spect from a squad spared their division basement by only the lowly Phils. The office gave him a suicide capsule and a one-way trip to the country-side; his own men kicked him as he bit down. David Wright, the year-long (and then-some) injured captain my captain, stood to rise in his defense -- rolling an ankle in doing-so.
The Red Sox clinched their second in a row division pennant Saturday, with a 6-3 win over the visiting Houston Astros. The time-frame lines up well for them, as it now looks like Sale will set sail in Game 1 of the championship series against the same 'Stros squad. From my view, the Damn Yankees' late-season run at their rivals never really threatened, but sure kept 'em sharp. Still, they ain't going far, near as I can tell.
For a team whom just wrapped their winningest season in LA franchise history with 103, the Dodgers are sorta tough to feel great 'bout. With Puig acting like Puig, outfielder woes, and a recent schneid-for-the-ages... I say either Rich Hill steps up huge or they're in jeopardy. Yes, no... I did not say Clayton Kershaw.
My dad was walking home from work as I played stick-ball in the street. The ball flew over my head and I turned tail, ran. Ran more. Peaked over my shoulder and reached out with both hands. Caught it. Spun 'round and launched the blue ball toward Andrew Tso. He caught it on the second-or-third try. Then held it, confused as to what to do. My dad stopped at my side half-way cross McDonald Ave.
"Willie Mays!" I told him in an excited echo of some other players' voices there. Dad looked around at under the El and said, "Good grab. He did it in the Polo Grounds. In the World Series." Tough crowd. Fair crowd.
Now the Say Hey Kid will forever be officially present at each and every World Serious in the form of having the Series MVP Award named after he. Fans of Chevy, fear not -- for they'll still be the corporate sponsor thereof.
"Cigar of the Year" Kaplowitz Radio: October 1, 2017
