I had a great time at the game yesterday -- it was a really nice end to my personal game-attending season. Seeing the Devinator get his award for AA Pitcher of the Year, finally get put in the game in an intense situation, and overcome a 3-0 count with the bases loaded . . . well, I was going nuts for him. It was good to see Thor actually come through for us, too. Not a lot at stake, but still a really enjoyable game. Watching Willie and Huddy sing a duet on the Jumbotron didn't hurt, either.

Oh, and here are your Frenchy Fun Facts for the week. Cherish them while you can -- the offseason approaches.

NL Batting Title Watch

Has any team ever in the history of baseball managed a win after walking a run in? Is there any more significant kiss of death? Even grand slams aren't quite as demoralizing.

At least we got to see Heap get bitchy with the ump. And did anyone else listen to Pete and Skip on the radio? They were doing a pretty good "subtle" running commentary about how awful Andruw is. So that was entertaining. Oh, and then there was that really good game that Huddy almost pitched.

The AJC of course commemorated this latest blow with a Sad Heap picture. What can I say that Sad Heap doesn't more accurately convey?

I'll be at the game today . . . my last one of the season. So far today, the weather has been appropriately gray.

NL Batting Title Watch

I love that Heap doesn't even bother to shave when he goes to visit the president. McClassic.

~~

Yesterday morning, at the hotel in D.C. . . .

Schuerholz: John!
Smoltz: Homeboy! What's up?
Schuerholz: I've been invited to have a personal audience with the president this afternoon.
Smoltz: Wow, that's exciting!
Schuerholz: I know, right? Oh, and I'm allowed to bring a few players along. Naturally, you were the first person who came to mind.
Smoltz: Thank you! I'm honored.
Schuerholz: Let's ask a few other guys to join us. I don't want to look like I'm playing favorites, so I'll leave it up to you to invite them.
Smoltz: Okay . . . hmm. I'll have to think about it.
Schuerholz: Just let me know who you decide to ask.

Smoltz knocks on Huddy's door.

Huddy: Hey, Smoltzie, how's it going?
Smoltz: Pretty good, actually! Want to come meet the president with me this afternoon?
Huddy: Ha ha!
Huddy: Wait . . . is that some kind of drug metaphor?
Smoltz: No! I'm serious!
Huddy: Right, right. Where are the cameras?
Huddy: /peers down the hallway in both directions
Huddy: I ain't that gullible, man!
Smoltz: I'm not joking! Homeboy was invited, and he asked me along, and wants me to invite some other guys from the team to join us.
Huddy: Uh-huh, sure. Why don't you go try this on Frenchy? He'll buy it for sure. You'll get some great footage -- where are you hiding the camera?
Smoltz: What camera?? Is it that hard to believe that the president wants to meet some of the Braves?
Huddy: Is it hidden in one of your shirt buttons? Like some James Bond type shit? Hey, you're gonna show me the video of Frenchy's reaction, right?
Smoltz: Ugh -- if you don't believe me, just call Schuerholz. I think I WILL invite Frenchy, and I hope he has a little bit more trust in me!
Huddy: Sure, dude, whatever you say. They gonna air this bit nationally, or just on Sports South?

Smoltz knocks on Frenchy's door.

Frenchy: Hey, John!
Smoltz: Morning, Jeff. I have some pretty exciting news for you.
Frenchy: Ooh, ooh, let me guess!
Smoltz: Um--
Frenchy: Everyone on the Phillies took steriods, and the whole team is disqualified?!
Smoltz: No, Jeff--
Frenchy: EVERYONE ON THE METS?!
Smoltz: It actually doesn't have anything to do with getting to the playoffs.
Frenchy: Oh. Has it got anything to do with my burgeoning singing career?
Smoltz: What are you talking about?! It's about the President of the United States!
Frenchy: Oh. Wait . . . what?
Smoltz: Would you like to meet him?
Frenchy: What?! Really??
Smoltz: Yes, we've been invited to--
Frenchy: CAN HEAP COME??!?
Smoltz: Um. Well, I guess so, I mean--
Frenchy: OH MY GOD!! I'M GONNA GO TELL HIM!!!
Frenchy: /runs down the hall
Smoltz: Hmm.
Smoltz: I may have just made a terrible mistake.

Frenchy pounds on Heap's door

Frenchy: HEAP, WAKE UP!!!! IT'S AN EMERGENCY!!!
Frenchy: A NATIONAL EMERGENCY!!!

Heap opens the door, rubbing his eyes.

Heap: What the hell?
Frenchy: OH MY GOD, DO YOU WANT TO GO TO THE WHITE HOUSE?!?!
Heap: Quit screaming! And no, you made us all go on that stupid tour the first time we came to D.C. for a road trip. I doubt much has changed.
Frenchy: NO I MEAN FOR REAL
Frenchy: LIKE THE PART OF THE WHITE HOUSE THE PRESIDENT IS IN
Heap: If you're talking about trying to break in to the oval office--
Frenchy: No, no, no! We've been invited to talk to the president! Smoltz said so!!
Heap: Are you serious? But why would the president want to meet us?
Frenchy: Um, DUH, Heap! He's obviously a huge Braves fan!!
Heap: Wouldn't he be a Rangers fan, though?
Frenchy: HA HA! As if anyone likes the Rangers! Good one.
Heap: No, really -- didn't he own the Rangers at some point?
Frenchy: Own them?? Doesn't he own ALL the MLB teams? When you really think about it?
Heap: . . . No? Are you high?
Frenchy: It's nine o'clock in the morning! I'm not high, this is for real!
Heap: Alright, man, but I'm having a hard time believing it.
Frenchy: Heap, have I ever lied to you?
Heap: No, but you've definitely told me things that you thought were true which turned out to be . . . less than valid.
Frenchy: This is not like that time Kelly burned popcorn and I thought the house was on fire! I'm talking about the president of our country! I don't fool around about stuff like this!
Heap: Okay, okay. Well, what should I wear?
Frenchy: NOT the shoes you wore when we met that senator.
Heap: You're never going to let me forget that, are you?
Frenchy: Probably not.

~~

The story about needing "pitchers" really cracked me up. But where is the picture that was taken?! Also, thanks to Lauren for reminding me that the picture with Isakson exists. As I told her, when I saw it last year, Heap's shoes were the first thing I noticed, no exaggeration.

I'm sorry that I haven't posted on here in awhile -- I was away from the internet all of Labor Day weekend, then I got sick, and I just started a new full time job this week. Add in an hour of commuting (at least) and that leaves me about ten minutes to fool around online when I get home, before the game comes on at seven. I'll work out my schedule eventually, but right now I'm a little overwhelmed and strapped for time (we're also trying to buy a house and move before the middle of October, just for added fun).

Admittedly, there hasn't been much worth writing about -- but I couldn't let the Dynamic Duo's visit to the White House pass by without my commentary.

I sat down to watch the game last night, and toward the end of her "Clubhouse Report" (we were laughing last night about the jaunty font they use for "Clubhouse," like the Braves' clubhouse is a tree fort that has a misspelled NO GIRLS ALLOWED!! sign tacked onto the door), OKT mentioned that Devy had been sent down. I was immediately furious, and then she revealed who came up to take his roster spot. I ranted for about thirty minutes. My dinner got cold. Good game, though.

~~

May 22, 2007

Devy walks into the Braves clubhouse with a brand new suitcase, grinning from ear to ear.

Heap: Heyyyy! Joey! How are you, man?
Devy: I'm great! After everything I went through in 2005, it feels good to have my confidence back.
Heap: Yeah, I'm really happy for you. You did well after your September call up last season -- and hey, aren't you leading the Southern League in saves?
Devy: Heh, yep!
Heap: That's awesome, Joey. I'll look forward to catching you.
Devy: Aww, thanks!

May 23, 2007

Devy: /sits nervously in the bullpen
Eddie: /sings Ave Maria
Devy: /scoots away

May 24, 2007

Devy: Well, another day in a major league bullpen! Maybe I'll get to pitch tonight.
Wicky: Hey.
Devy: Hi! My name is --
Wicky: You gonna eat that?
Devy: /looks down
Devy: Um . . . eat . . . what? My glove?
Wicky: Oh. I thought it was one of those jumbo soft pretzels for a second.

May 25, 2007

Devy: Man, it was so great to be here to see Smoltz get his 200th win.
Heap: Yeah, what an awesome game! C'mon, let's go drink some champagne with everyone.
Devy: Okay!
Bobby: Hold on a second there, son.
Devy: Me?
Bobby: Yeah, you. Here's your ticket home.
Devy: "Home"?
Bobby: Yeah, you know, the minors. Thanks for the - eh, whatever you did for the past three days.

Heap: Aw, Joey, that's too bad.
Devy: Well, it's okay. I figured they would send me back pretty soon -- I just thought I'd get a chance to pitch . . .
Heap: Yeah, me too. But you came up during a crazy series with the Mets -- next time you come up you'll get to pitch, and hopefully you'll be up here for good.
Devy: That would be great! Well, I guess I've got a bus to catch.
Heap: They're making you take a bus back to Mississippi?!
Devy: Yeah, I'm back on a minor leaguer's salary. It's okay! There's a bathroom on the bus and everything. Could be worse!
Heap: I guess so. See you soon, buddy.
Devy: Bye!

June 20, 2007

The Braves are losing to the Red Sox, 11-0 in the bottom of the 8th.

Bobby: Consarnit!! Who's going to pitch the 9th?
McDowell: You've used everyone but Joey Devine.
Bobby: What's Devine doing up here?!
McDowell: He just got called up today to replace McBride.
Bobby: Aw, hell. Get Francoeur out there.
McDowell: Um, he's still playing rightfield. And he hasn't pitched since high school.
Bobby: FINE. Put Mr. Grand Slam in. Not like this could get any worse.

Devy: /gives up two hits
Heap: /goes out to the mound
Heap: Hey, what's the matter?
Devy: Nothing . . . I think I'm just nervous. Bobby only trusts me to pitch games where we're losing by double digits.
Heap: Well, you'll have to earn his trust back, you knew that. C'mon, I know you can do it, just don't overthink.
Devy: Okay. Thanks, Heap.
Devy: /gets out of the inning without giving up a run

Heap: Hey, good job!
Devy: Thanks!
Bobby: Kid!
Devy: . . . Me?
Bobby: Yeah, you. We just got a new reliever from the Tigers. Here's your bus ticket home.
Heap: This is the second time we've sent him back this year -- can't we at least spring for a flight?
Bobby: Oh, I'm sorry, are you Brian McCann, starting catcher AND traveling secretary?
Heap: . . . No.
Bobby: That's what I thought. See ya later, Devine.

Heap: Geez, Joey, that stinks.
Devy: No, that's okay. I knew I wasn't up to stay . . . they need a lefty reliever.
Heap: Well, at least you got to pitch this time!
Devy: Yep! See you later, Heap.

July 5, 2007

Devy walks into the visitor's clubhouse in Los Angeles, a slightly scuffed suitcase in hand.

Heap: Hey, you're back!
Devy: Yep! Whose roster spot am I taking this time?
Heap: Pete Orr's. They optioned him to Richmond last night.
Devy: Is that . . . Bobby over there in the corner?
Heap: Yeah. He's been weeping since last night. He said this was "like the ending of The Yearling, only a hundred times worse."
Devy: What the hell does that mean?
Heap: Beats me, but Bobby really likes Orr.
Devy: Oh, great.
Heap: Nah, don't worry. He won't take it out on you.

Devy: /pitches two innings in nine games

July 18, 2007

Bobby: Kid!
Devy: Yeah?
Bobby: We're putting Davies in the pen. You're going home.
Devy: /holds out hand
Bobby: /slaps bus ticket into it

August 3, 2007

Devy wanders into the Braves clubhouse with a tattered suitcase. He sighs.

Heap: Joey! Hey, you must be up for the rest of the season, huh?
Devy: I guess.
Heap: Aw, don't worry. You've been doing so well in the minors, and our bullpen could use you.
Devy: Thanks, Heap. I don't mind about the short call ups so much . . . my head's kind of spinning, but I understand.
Heap: You've been a good sport.

That night, the team is losing 7-2 after the bottom of the 7th.

Bobby: Consarnit! Who's going to pitch the last two innings??
McDowell: You've used everyone but Devine and Cormier.
Bobby: . . .
Bobby: . . .
Bobby: . . .
Boddy: Goddammit. Gimme Devine.

Devy: /walks a batter
Devy: /gives up a hit
Heap: /calls time out, jogs out to the mound
Heap: What's wrong, Joey?
Devy: I don't know . . . I'm having a hard time getting my head in the game. I just got here this afternoon, and here I am, pitching at the end of another loss . . .
Heap: Joey, don't be like that! We need you to hold them.
Devy: You're right, I'm sorry.
Heap: Go get 'em!

Devy: /strikes out two, gets out of the inning without giving up a run
Bobby: /puts Cormier in for the 9th
Cormier: /gives up two more runs

August 6, 2007

Devy: Thanks for letting me crash at your place while I'm in town.
Heap: No problem! I've got plenty of space.
Devy: I just don't want to look for my own place, with the rollercoaster I've been on this season.
Heap: I know, but it's August, and you've been doing so well. I don't think you'll have to go back to Mississippi this season.
Devy: I hope not -- I'm really looking forward to going to New York with you guys tomorrow!
Heap: Yeah, it's an important road trip.

Devy's cell phone rings.

Devy: Who could that be -- oh. Shit.
Heap: . . . It's Bobby, isn't it?
Devy: Yeah.
Devy: /gets up
Devy: Drive me to the bus station?

August 24, 2007

Devy walks into the visitor's clubhouse in St. Louis, carrying a garbage bag full of shoes, shaking.

Heap: Joe-- whoa, are you okay?
Devy: Let's just get this over with.

August 26, 2007

The Braves are losing to the Cardinals, and Devy comes in to pitch the 8th.

Devy: /walks Pujols
Devy: /gives up a hit
Heap: /jogs out to the mound
Heap: Hey, are you alright?
Devy: No.
Heap: I know, I know, but listen -- the roster expansion is in just a few days! There's no way they'll send you back again. And here's your chance to prove that you deserve to be up here, right?
Devy: DO I deserve to be here?! I can't even tell anymore.
Heap: Yes! You know you do. To hell with all these roster moves. Just pitch like the old Joey Devine. The one I knew in the minors who was totally confident. First round draft pick Joey Devine! You're still him, despite all these struggles.
Devy: /wipes tear
Devy: Thanks, Heap.
Heap: No problem. Now shut these guys down!

Devy: /strikes out two, gets out of the inning without giving up a run

Heap: I knew you could do it!
Devy: Aww, shucks!
Heap: Man, I can't wait to get out of St. Louis! Hopefully we'll be able to turn it around in Miami.
Devy: Miami . . . sounds fun!
Heap: Have you ever been on a road trip down there?
Devy: I . . . can't remember. I've blocked most of 2005 out entirely, to be honest.
Heap: That's probably for the best.

Bobby: Kid!
Heap: Oh no.
Devy: . . . me?
Bobby: /holds out a bus ticket
Bobby: I'm sorry to do this to ya, but we need help on the bench. You'll be back in a few days.
Devy: COMING BACK IN A FEW DAYS IS NO LONGER A COMFORT.
Heap: Just stay calm, Devy. After the roster expansion, you'll be up for the rest of the year.
Devy: OH REALLY?? I DON'T BELIEVE ANYTHING ANY OF YOU SAY ANYMORE.
Devy: /shakes uncontrollably
Heap: Geez, Bobby, how can you do this to him?? Who are you bringing up to help on the bench? Brayan Pena?
Bobby: Who? No, I'm bringing up Peter Orr!

Devy: ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME
Devy: I HAVE A HIGHER BATTING AVERAGE THAN PETE ORR
Bobby: But you haven't even hit this year!
Devy: PRECISELY
Heap: Yeah, Bobby, doesn't Orr have a negative average? Because of that one time he leapt out of the on deck circle and fielded one of Chipper's infield hits?
Bobby: But he's a great teammate! And he's a hell of a Connect Four player, goddammit!

Devy: /faints

~~

Eric Campbell needs to hurry up and serve his suspension, start hitting and get up here. I could go for an "insubordinate act" right about now.

I can't decide if I miss the Davies twins or not. I definitely miss Gonzalez, and the effective Chuckie of '06, and Wicky is making me nostalgic for even Kerry Ligtenburg. He may have blown his share of saves, but at least he was kind of cute. I was extremely grateful to only have to listen to Wickman throw the game away on the radio on the way home last night . . . actually seeing him mess up that play on first might have prompted criminal activity.

But speaking of criminal activity in Missouri this weekend . . . will the guys hang out with Good and/or Evil Davies while they're in town?

~~

On the plane last night . . .

Frenchy: Psst! Hey, Heap, you awake?
Heap: Yeah, what do you want? I really don't feel like talking right now.
Frenchy: I know, but . . . I just wanted to ask you something.
Frenchy: /looks over his shoulder
Frenchy: Do you . . . kind of . . . hate Wicky?
Heap: Frenchy, no. You can't blame that loss entirely on him.
Frenchy: Oh, I know, I know. I went 0-6!
Heap: Precisely.
Frenchy: But, still. I mean, you can tell me. You kind of hate him, right? Just a little?
Heap: No -- Frenchy, just leave me alone, okay?
Frenchy: Geez, fine. I'll just take my scintillating conversation elsewhere.
Heap: Yeah, good luck with that.

Frenchy gets up, wanders the plane. Everyone has the lights over their seats turned off, trying to sleep or moping about the game. Everyone, except one person . . .

Frenchy: /wanders over
Frenchy: Hey, are you one of the beat writers?
Hampton: Hmm? Oh, no.
Frenchy: Are you new on the training staff or something? I've seen you hanging around on the past few road trips. I should have introduced myself, my name is --
Hampton: Yeah, I know who you are. We've met.
Frenchy: We have? Oh, I'm sorry -- did you bring me Gatorade yesterday or something?
Hampton: Well, yes, but we actually met in 2005.
Frenchy: Oh, in the minors!
Hampton: No . . . I pitched for about a month after you were called up.
Frenchy: Seriously?
Frenchy: /looks at him closely
Frenchy: Kyle . . . Farnsworth?
Hampton: No, I was a starter! Mike Hampton!
Frenchy: /blank stare
Hampton: . . . The short guy?
Frenchy: Oh, yeah! Sorry, I didn't recognize you.
Hampton: That's okay, I haven't been around a lot this year. Or last year. Or most of the time you've been in the majors.
Frenchy: So are you getting ready to rejoin the rotation?
Hampton: Oh hell no. I won't even touch a baseball until March. And then only for several minutes a day.
Frenchy: Then . . . why are you on the road trip?
Hampton: My wife said I needed to get some fresh air, talk to people, get reacquainted with being, you know, "outside" of the "basement." Stuff like that. You know how women are!
Frenchy: Oh, sure! Hey, I'm getting married in a few months, you got any advice for me?
Hampton: Of course! Have a seat.
Frenchy: No one is sitting here?
Hampton: Nah. People don't generally sit within fifty feet of me. They think I'm bad luck.
Frenchy: Why would they think that?
Hampton: Beats me!

~~

The next morning at the hotel, Heap wanders down to the lobby.

Heap: Hey! Frenchy! There you are.
Frenchy: Hmm? Oh. Hi.
Heap: I was about to go get something for breakfast, have you eaten?
Frenchy: Oh, yeah. Mike and I went to breakfast hours ago.
Heap: . . . Mike?
Frenchy: Yes! Mike Hampton! Duh, Heap! He's only like, half our payroll!
Heap: /cringes
Heap: I was afraid that was who you were talking about.
Frenchy: Afraid? Why?
Heap: Frenchy . . . Hampton is . . . kind of strange.
Frenchy: Whatever!! You're just jealous that I'm friends with the veterans!
Heap: No, I'm not! Why is he even coming along on the road trips lately?! Chipper bet me fifty dollars that it's because his wife kicked him out and he needs a place to sleep.
Frenchy: That is so immature! Why don't you go hang out with your beloved Wickman?
Heap: Wicky is in the middle of his intense three hour breakfast regimen, but that's not the point --

Hampton: Hey, Jeff, there you are! Ready to play golf?
Frenchy: Yep!
Heap: You can't play golf the morning of a game!!
Frenchy: Don't tell me what to do!
Frenchy: /wanders off with Hampton

Heap: Well . . . fine!
Heap: /crosses arms
Heap: I mean . . . pssh! Like I care!
Heap: /looks around the empty lobby
Heap: /takes out cell phone

A phone rings in an apartment in Kansas City.

Good Davies: Hello?
Heap: Kyle!
Good Davies: Heap . . . hi.
Heap: Yeah, hi! What the hell is up with you calling me uptight?
Good Davies: I wasn't talking about you specifically!
Heap: You were, too! You said you "felt distant," and you named names!
Good Davies: Well, you guys weren't that nice to me when I was losing!
Heap: Well, excuse me for giving you the benefit of the doubt, but when "you" lost, I usually assumed it was your evil twin who was trying to sabotage your career!
Good Davies: Look, I'm sorry, okay! No hard feelings?
Heap: Fine, whatever. I'm in St. Louis today if you want to drive over and hang out.
Good Davies: . . . Okay. I'll be there in a few hours.

Later, there is a knock on Heap's hotel room door.

Heap: Hey, Ky--
Evil Davies: Hello, Brian.
Heap: You! What are you doing here?
Evil Davies: My brother told me you showed up in Missouri and threatened him. So here I am.
Heap: Threatened him?! I'm here for a series with the Cardinals! And what do you care, anyway? You don't even like your brother!
Evil Davies: Yes, but somehow I like you less.
Heap: So, what? You're here to kick my ass? All I said was that I wanted to hang out with him while we're in town!
Evil Davies: Well, he felt very threatened by that. He's fragile. Probably because I've been tormenting him since the womb.
Heap: Man, I don't have time for this crap --

Heap: /starts to shut the door in Evil Davies' face
Evil Davies: /holds the door open
Evil Davies: Well, you'd better make time.
Evil Davies: /hisses
Evil Davies: /raises hands, Dracula-style
Heap: Um--

Frenchy: /runs up to the hotel room door
Frenchy: /whacks Evil Davies in the back of the head with a golf club
Heap: Frenchy! Uh -- thanks!
Frenchy: No problem! Man, who would have thought a few weeks in the American League would make Kyle so weird?
Heap: Um, you do know that this is the Evil Davies . . . right?
Frenchy: Oh, seriously?
Heap: You thought Good Davies was attacking me?!
Frenchy: No, I was just pissed about that dig at us in that article! I mean, wouldn't you hit me in the back of the head with a golf club if I dissed you in the press?  
Heap: Er -- Wait, why are you back from golf so soon? What did you play, three holes?
Frenchy: Not even . . . it wasn't really that fun. Mike can't touch anything round until the spring, so I had to set up his shots for him, then he said that the handles on his clubs were "a little too close to being round," and he made me hit for him, too. Then he said I had to carry him because he's had some "mishaps" with golf carts in the past, so. I left.
Heap: Told you so.
Frenchy: Hey! Maybe next time some evil doppelganger is attacking you, I'll just let nature take its course.
Heap: You just said you only hit him because you were mad about that article!
Frenchy: Yeah, well. What should we do with him, anyway?
Heap: Um.
Heap: /stares down at the unconscious Evil Davies
Heap: Put him in the rotation?

~~

Today's Starting Pitchers

Buddy Carlyle Braves vs.  Elizardo Ramirez Reds 7-5 W-L 0-1 4.66 ERA 3.86 55 SO 2 22 BB 1 13 HR 1 vs. Reds -- vs. Braves

Game Time: 7:10 on

Well. At least we're not the Orioles?

It's starting to feel like 2006, and here's a good indicator: Chipper and company have retired from doing postseason probability quotes. Who got stuck with the job when we began falling out of the races last year? The same guy who did them all last night:

"There's no more 'we'll get 'em tomorrow,' " said Brian McCann, who homered early but was left on deck to end the game as Mark Teixeira struck out on a questionable pitch. "That's out of the window. We have to start playing better. That's the bottom line. If we want to get to the postseason where everybody wants to be, we're going to have to start playing better baseball."

Sound familiar? Poor Heap was captain of the "we have to start" press in the dark days around this time last year (okay, maybe a month earlier; I think we were pretty much dead in the water this time last year). Losing Rent again on the first pitch was just demoralizing, and then . . . well, I don't even have a clear memory of the rest of the game. Heap homered, made an error, Andruw homered, Cormier actually looked good, and then suddenly it was the ninth inning and Teixeira was having a well-earned fit. The umpires better not risk pulling any of that crap with him in the game tonight - remember the Alamo, ya bastards.

Today's Starting Pitchers

Lance Cormier Braves vs.  Bronson Arroyo Reds 0-3 W-L 6-13 9.90 ERA 4.58 9 SO 116 12 BB 49 10 HR 19 vs. Reds -- vs. Braves

Game Time: 7:10 on

I never thought it would come to this, but - sighhhhh. Where the hell is David Wells? Let's just get this over with.

Really, though, when you can't beat the Reds with seven runs and your next two starters are on the iffy side to say the least . . . but I won't turn to despair just yet (as if dreaming of David Wells joining your staff isn't the very definition of despair . . .). God forbid we ever have any momentum, though, or even a three game winning streak.

But never fear: we're getting our slightly impatient Rent back today:

"I'd prefer to play every day, rather than run the figure-8s," said Renteria.

Is that some kind of metaphor for our season? Probably.

Today's Starting Pitchers

Jo-Jo Reyes Braves vs.  Bobby Livingston Reds 0-1 W-L 3-3 8.72 ERA 4.70 7 SO 23 15 BB 8 7 HR 7 vs. Reds -- vs. Braves

Game Time: 7:10 on

Now that's how you treat the Reds, boys. I was worried about Huddy at first, but he didn't look terrible, just not '07 Huddy-esque (or '03 Huddy-esque, since we're invoking him, lately). He does have some advice for Tex (Mark? I still hate "Tex," but none of the other nicknames I've tried have stuck), who homered twice again last night:

"Maybe we should spit in his food everyday and make him throw up."

The plot thickens! But who spit in his food in the first place? Andruw is too spaced out to be very vindictive - Thor, maybe? Was it the song, Thor? The network actually has a commercial involving the song now, and they had me wondering for a moment last night if it was an inside job made to look like a fan creation, but then I remembered the "Thorman stinks and Julio is old" line, so probably not. Plus, when most of the network created commercials look like this, I really shouldn't even be giving them that much credit.

Now for Jo-Jo, just to mix things up, I guess. Last time he was up, did anyone else notice that he wore glasses in the dugout but not on the mound? Could be that he prefers contacts when he's pitching, but we might have a Rick Vaughn-type situation on our hands, here - Heap, get on it!

Today's Starting Pitchers

Tim Hudson Braves vs.  Phil Dumatrait Reds 14-5 W-L 0-1 3.02 ERA 10.32 106 SO 7 39 BB 9 5 HR 0 vs. Reds -- vs. Braves

Game Time: 7:10 on

That was a nice ending to a disappointing homestand, and a good way to leave town on getaway day: Smoltzie is now the all-time strikeout leader for the Braves, Tex homered twice, and apparently Wicky only wanted to set the stage for a game-tying grand slam in the ninth, not actually give one up. Phew!

Now the guys get to enjoy four days in fun-filled Cincinnati! The way Skip reliably bitches about the lack of nightlife there kind of makes you wonder what he gets up to in the other cities.

If you do nothing else today, read this article about Heap and his brother. They totally screw up his nickname (heaps o'fries? eh?), but otherwise it is amazing.

I feel like Wicky might if he was turned loose in the all-you-can-eat seats . . . I don't even know where to START.

So why not start by disclaiming? I do like Davies and this article actually made me happy. I especially love the bit about A-Rod sending him the bat. But Davies is one of those Other Kids who grew up playing with Heap and Frenchy (we used to have at least three -- I think Boyer is the only one who hasn't been dumped this season), and he's pulling a bit of a call out on Those Two now that he's gone. Who saw that coming?? Not me!

~~

Last night . . .

Frenchy is dressing for the game, getting ready to run out onto the field.

Heap: Hey Frenchy, have you heard from Kyle lately?
Frenchy: Who?
Heap: KYLE DAVIES. You know, that guy we've played ball with since we were kids?
Frenchy: Oh yeah! You know . . . I haven't heard from him lately.
Frenchy: /looks around
Frenchy: Is he on the DL or something?
Heap: FRENCHY. He got traded to Kansas City, remember? You threw him a goodbye party at your house!
Frenchy: Man, I totally forgot about that! I was wondering why he hadn't started in awhile.
Heap: What is wrong with you?
Frenchy: Nothing! What's wrong with YOU?
Frenchy: /jogs toward the dugout

Heap: /sees the back of his jersey, laughs
Heap: Hey, Frenchy!
Frenchy: What?
Heap: You - ah - never mind.

Heap: Scooter, c'mere.
Scooter: Huh?
Heap: I'll bet you twenty bucks Frenchy doesn't find out they spelled his name wrong on his jersey until the fourth inning.
Scooter: Pssh! I bet you a hundred he notices it before his first at-bat!
Heap: You're on! Ha, I'm about to be a hundred dollars richer, my friend. He didn't even notice Kyle had been traded until just now!
Scooter: Uh-huh. Just watch.

Frenchy: /steps up to bat
Frenchy: /immediately checks himself out on the Jumbotron
Frenchy: Hey!
Frenchy: STOP THE GAME!
Frenchy: MY JERSEY HAS BEEN DEFILED!!

Heap: DAMMIT.
Scooter: Pay up.

~~

After the game, Frenchy is sulking in the clubhouse.

Heap: Aw, cheer up, at least we won the series.
Frenchy: But I went 0-4! I've been awful since we got home -- what's wrong with me?
Heap: Nothing - hey - you did well on the road trip.
Frenchy: Exactly! Why can't I hit at home? The opposite was true last year!
Heap: I don't know, it's probably just a --
Frenchy: I'VE GOT IT! I did well at home last year because I lived in your house!! It's good luck!
Heap: Uh -
Frenchy: Let me sleep on your couch tonight to see if it'll make a difference.
Heap: Frenchy -
Frenchy: Please!! C'mon, I'm really suffering here.
Heap: My girlfriend was going to come over!
Frenchy: So what? Your girlfriend LOVES me!
Heap: . . . What?!
Frenchy: Man, this is totally gonna work! I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner!

~~

The following morning at Heap's house, Frenchy wakes up on the couch at the crack of dawn, and goes outside to get the morning paper.

Frenchy: /reading paper
Frenchy: "Giants sluggers get best of James"
Frenchy: Aww, they sure did. Hey, here's a story about Kyle!
Frenchy: "He's happier than he's been in a long time."
Frenchy: Well, neat! I'd better wake Heap up and tell him.

Frenchy: /pounds on Heap's bedroom door
Heap: /wakes up in a panic
Heap: What, what's wrong?!?
Frenchy: Hey! Check out this great story about Kyle!
Frenchy: /jumps onto his bed and throws the newspaper at him
Heap: Are you kidding me?
Frenchy: No! It says he smiled and everything!
Heap: /stares
Frenchy: I know, right? Hard to believe!
Heap: Frenchy - for God's sake.
Heap: /reads

Heap: "But it makes a big difference when you feel like you can go out there, and even though you came up short, you got a chance to do your best. I feel like I'm getting that chance here, to do whatever I can do to get out of stuff ... to try to win a ball game."
Heap: Hmph, is he saying he didn't get chances to do that here?
Frenchy: Nah, he just likes his new team is all!
Heap: /reads on
Heap: Is he complaining that he got pulled after 22 pitches in his last start here? "I need . . . I can't . . . this isn't a good situation for me." What does that even mean? Did he want to walk ten more runs in before we took him out??
Frenchy: "I needed to get out of there" - hmm, I never knew he felt that way.
Heap: Yeah, well, you didn't even realize he'd been traded until yesterday. But what's this crap about our clubhouse being "all business"?
Frenchy: Apparently in Kansas, "everybody comes up and talks" to him - hey, we talked to him! Didn't we?
Heap: Heck yeah! I comforted him when his evil twin was trying to ruin his life!

Frenchy: Maybe Evil Davies did the quotes for this article.
Heap: Nah, he doesn't like to deal with the press.
Frenchy: Well then, Good Davies just called us uptight!
Heap: Uptight! Us?!
Frenchy: The nerve! And check it out, A-Rod sent him a signed bat! I guess he has new, cooler friends now in the American League.
Heap: Didn't you like, throw a sandwich at A-Rod once?
Frenchy: No, no. I got mad at him for berating a clubhouse attendant who brought him the wrong sandwich.
Heap: I like the version where you throw a sandwich at him better.
Frenchy: Yeah, I wouldn't be opposed to you spreading that version.

~~

Meanwhile, in Kansas City . . .

Good Davies: Ahh, another glorious morning in my true spiritual home: Missouri!
Good Davies: I feel like a new person! Thank God I got out of the City That Must Not Be Named!
Good Davies: /checks cell phone
Good Davies: Hmph, Heap and Frenchy haven't called me since last week. I guess they're too busy with their precious lives.
Good Davies: No skin off my rear! I've got this baby for company!

Good Davies: /picks up the bat from A-Rod
Good Davies: /reads inscription
Good Davies: "To Kyle, it was a really good pitch. Sorry. Home run No. 500 to a good sport. A-Rod."
Good Davies: Ha ha! It was a really good pitch!
Good Davies: /turns the bat
Good Davies: "P.S. -- Is that guy Francouer totally mean or what?"
Good Davies: You are so wise, A-Rod.

~~

I didn't get to watch the game last night, but I recorded it. I wasn't going to bother, given the outcome, but I have to at least hear Skip's commentary on the Epic Misspelling of '07.

Check it out: Bonds looks evil even when he's hugging his grandma!

He's probably only using his grandma as a cover while he scopes out the crowd for fans holding posters that express dislike for him, so he can sue them. I didn't see any "*It's Still 755" shirts last night, aside from my husband's (he got compliments on it!), but there was plenty of Bonds harassment to go around - one guy in our section passed out little asterisks printed on paper for everyone to hold up, and there were signs, and a possibly drunken father of two just doing some old fashioned shoutin' at Bonds when he was in the outfield. Fun times!

But back to the more important subject of hugging grandmothers: you know who really doesn't look evil (and never could! Under any circumstances!) when hugging his grandmother? This guy. And while, yes, he can take an awkward picture and end up looking like an overenthusiastic Japanese cartoon character, give him a break. Everyone else was in on the action, too:

Chipper was sort of over it, wasn't he? He took off for the dugout before the celebration could really get going:

Frenchy: No fair that Heap got to jump on you and I didn't! No fair, Chipper! C'mere!!
Huddy: Lemme show ya'll how we did it in Oakland!
Prado: This means you guys aren't mad at me anymore, right? Wheeeee!
Chipper: Heh . . .
Chipper: /flees

And speaking of things that couldn't really get going, Bobby broke the all-time ejection record last night, and I'm telling you, NO ONE NOTICED. Chipper had just struck out, and I got up in disgust, off to get a beer. Apparently the actual ejection happened while I was walking to the Tomahawk Tavern, but my husband stayed in his seat and didn't even notice it, I guess because it was between innings. There was no crowd reaction, but Bobby probably preferred it that way. It's a shame, though -- I wanted to at least chant "BOB-BY" for a few minutes, or something.

I was also really hoping it would be Huddy vs. Zito today . . . but I don't blame Zito for not wanting to face his old chum, considering the season he's been having. Kick 'em while they're down, Hud!

What's the most ridiculously adorable thing you can possibly imagine? A single image that exemplifies innocence and charm and all that is good in the world? A basket full of puppies, maybe? A father teaching his daughter how to ride a bike?

WRONG. It's a catcher -- not just any catcher, but this guy -- trying to handle a horrible pitch that bounces right into his chest protector, suffering a moment of confusion before he even figures out where the ball went, finding it and getting penalized (was I flipping out? I was), then trying to demonstrate what happened to the ump by putting the ball back into his chest protector with the saddest and most bewildered look possible on his face. Oh, and then he goes out to the mound and feels so guilty about the whole thing that he bites his fingernails on the freaking field. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but it was excellent. The call was maybe necessary but still infuriating (what was he supposed to do?? Try NOT to block the ball, knowing that if he did his equipment would be "used" incorrectly?), but his reaction was priceless. Please tell me someone (Dave??) was recording that and can send me a video.

This was pretty good, too, from the AJC writeup:

"Did the Mets lose tonight?" catcher Brian McCann asked. "That's awesome."

Awesome indeed! Also awesome last night was Mahay, who is taking the Chuckie approach to his quotes:

"I honestly didn't think about it," Mahay said of the pressure situation he entered, with runners on the corners and the Phillies having already scored three runs in the inning on four hits and a walk against Cormier.

"I was more concerned about getting loose out there. I didn't know much about [Howard]."

Maybe everybody needs to stop watching Sportscenter and just let all those guys in the opposing team's uniforms remain mysterious. Seems to work for pitchers, strangely enough, and what if Chuckie's problems this year stem directly from finding out who the more talented NL hitters are? Did the Mets or Phillies somehow sabotage his effective oblivious approach? Maybe they left a notebook with glossy pictures of guys from the league in his locker, with GOOD or BAD written over their heads in red marker?

Final bit of news this morning: Andruw may be bowing out gracefully, at least for a little while. I like the spin that the official site puts on this news: "Andruw playing through pain." Gee, Andruw, thanks! Shouldn't that be "Andruw 'playing' through pain," though?

I was going absolutely crazy for that game from start to finish -- what a great one. For some reason I've been kind of distracted during games lately, folding laundry or fooling around on my laptop (maybe because they last 15 innings on average lately), but I was on the edge of my seat for this one the entire time, obsessed by every pitch, back in "you can't move that chair, WHAT IF WE'RE WINNING ONLY BECAUSE THAT CHAIR IS IN THAT PRECISE SPOT?! DO YOU REALLY WANT TO RISK IT???" mode.

Oh, and apparently Bonds did his thing, finally. I'm glad it happened at midnight during a game I wasn't watching, because that makes it seem more surreal. The comments by Murph delighted me, because I know a lot of guys don't want to speak out, and the ones who do are usually just the windbags who run their mouths about everything. The Murph is such a good, classy guy, but he doesn't back down when some bitchiness is called for. Preach it!

~~

Last night at the hotel in New York, the youngsters are up late in Scooter's room, eating room service food and celebrating the win . . .

Heap: Man, what a great start to the road trip! Frenchy, you were awesome.
Frenchy: Heh! I know!
Scooter: Yeah, I wish I could have contributed more.
Heap: What! All those double plays you helped to turn? Man, they saved us when Buddy was struggling. Good job.
Scooter: Aww, thanks.

There is a knock on the door, and Scooter hops up to answer it.

Scooter: Oh, hey, Druw. You want to--
Andruw: Did you guys see????
Scooter: See what?
Andruw: You're not watching the Nationals-Giants game??
Heap: No, we're watching Foster's.
Frenchy: Yeah, they're doing a marathon! It's like Cartoon Network knew we were gonna beat the Mets and wanted us to have a reward!!
Andruw: Um. Right. Well, Bonds just broke Aaron's record!
Scooter: Oh, wow.
Frenchy: Yeah, neat.
Heap: Well, I'm glad he did it in San Francisco and not in Atlanta. We'll have to answer enough questions about it during the Giants series as it is.
Andruw: But aren't you guys like, excited?? Angry? Anything?
Frenchy: /laughs
Andruw: What's so funny?
Frenchy: Huh? Oh, the rabbit on Foster's just fell down the stairs.
Frenchy: He's totally the best character.
Scooter: Whatever! The big purple guy is way funnier!
Andruw: Uh. Alright, then. Just wanted to make sure you guys knew . . .
Heap: Well, thanks, Andruw. See you later.

Heap: Hey guys, do you think we should have some significant reaction to Bonds breaking the record? I mean it is a big deal.
Frenchy: I got mine right here.
Frenchy: /pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket
Frenchy: Wrote this sucker in June -- I've almost got it memorized.
Heap: So this is why you're so good with the press?? You write speeches and memorize them?
Frenchy: Duh, Heap. Doesn't everyone?
Heap: Scooter, what do you think?
Scooter: Hmm? Oh, I don't bother preparing quotes for the press. I never really . . . get interviewed all that often.
Heap: No, I mean about -- ugh, never mind.
Frenchy: Where are you going?
Heap: I'm just gonna make a call real quick . . .

A phone rings in a hotel room in Kansas City.

Good Davies: Hello?
Heap: Hey, Kyle. Did you hear about Bonds?
Good Davies: Yeah, I'm watching the game. Woo-hoo.
Heap: What's wrong, Kyle?
Good Davies: Nothing . . . I'm just having a hard time adjusting to life without my friends.
Heap: I know, but . . . haven't you gotten friendly with anyone in Kansas?
Good Davies: Yeah, they're nice, but . . . Heap . . . I gave up A-Rod's 500th homer.
Heap: Yeah, I read about that. That's actually why I'm calling . . .
Good Davies: It is?
Heap: Yeah, could you do me a favor? Every time you pitch to A-Rod . . . could you . . . throw him that same pitch?
Good Davies: What?! No! I'm not going to betray my new team!
Heap: /sigh
Heap: I thought you might say that. Well, it was worth a try. Look, I'll call you tomorrow, alright?

A cell phone rings in the midst of a Kansas City night club.

Evil Davies: What?
Heap: Hey, E.D., what's up?
Evil Davies: Who the hell is this? How did you get this number?
Heap: It's your old catcher, Brian McCann.
Evil Davies: Who McWhat? Look, I'm kind of busy--
Heap: I know, just listen for a sec. I have a semi-evil deed for you.
Evil Davies: Oh yeah?
Heap: Interested?
Evil Davies: Well . . . my evil-doing is kind of directionless now that I can no longer try to sabotage the NL East division race . . . what are you proposing?
Heap: You know how your brother gave up that homer to A-Rod recently?
Evil Davies: Oh, yes! I was vacationing in Barcelona at the time, but it gave me a chuckle when I returned to the states.
Heap: . . . Right, well, could you, like, um. Pitch for him every time the Royals play the Yankees? And give up as many homers as possible?
Evil Davies: With pleasure-- wait, this isn't some kind of underhandedly good deed is it?
Heap: What would make you think that? Anyway, it'll annoy your brother.
Evil Davies: Which is my default reason for living. Alright. I'll consider it. But if I find out this is somehow serving the greater good, you'll be sorry.
Heap: Okay, but . . . do you support Bonds holding the home run record for a long time?
Evil Davies: Oh God no! What do you take me for? I'm not THAT evil.
Heap: Then we shouldn't have a problem.

~~

This little tidbit from the AJC's article about Bonds hitting 756 cracked me up:

A woman who answered the phone at Aaron's home in Georgia shortly after Bonds' homer said that Aaron was asleep.

Video message or not, there's your statement right there.

Today's Starting Pitchers

Chuck James Braves vs.  Aaron Cook Rockies 9-8 W-L 8-6 3.70 ERA 4.13 88 SO 56 50 BB 41 18 HR 13 vs. Rockies -- vs. Braves

Game Time: 1:05 on

That was a fun one, aside from Doc Ock giving up a slam, but fortunately Huddy had tacked on two extra runs in addition to pitching a great game, so he totally gets the game ball. There was also a scary moment when Wicky nearly fell on his face as he was taking the final out over to first - anyone else notice this?

We had a bit of revenge going on last night, too: Matty got hit twice but homered, and that little bastard Tulowitzki grounded into a double play - almost good enough vengeance for the triple he turned against us earlier in the season, because the bases were loaded and the DP ended the inning. Seeing him throw his helmet in rage was nice - keep pissing Tulowitzki and company off today, Chuckie. We need to head in to New York on a high note.

Speaking of that, I was kind of let down when I heard they're flying in to New York Monday night, since they've got Monday off. Makes sense I guess, but I always like the idea of them leaving town straight from the ballpark, and hey, if they got there a day early they could like, psyche out the competition, you know, maybe throw some water balloons at David Wright as he's entering a night club? Oh well.

Oh, and I guess we'd better go ahead and snap up our tickets for the Blackout at Turner Field on August 14-16, because Bonds hit 755 last night, and if he continues on his torrid pace, it'll be at least a week before he hits another . . . You may have also heard that A-Rod hit number 500 on Friday, off of none other than Kyle Davies. He keeps giving me material, even when he's playing for another team. Stay tuned . . .

Today's Starting Pitchers

Tim Hudson Braves vs.  Ubaldo Jimenez Rockies 11-5 W-L 1-0 3.09 ERA 3.50 91 SO 13 35 BB 8 4 HR 1 vs. Rockies -- vs. Braves

Game Time: 7:05 on

Amazing how quickly I went from feeling ridiculously hopeful about the rest of the season to extremely worried. Teixeira (I still haven't come up with a nickname - the only one that comes naturally is "Sherry," but that just seems wrong, eh?) continued his homerin' streak, but we couldn't pitch or hit or field, really, and it was just an awful game. When the highlight of the evening is Skip showing The Infamous Silverware Picture and discussing his afro of yesteryear (which apparently was not appreciated by management at the time), you know it was a bad one. Though watching a boring loss was almost worth hearing him say:

"Pete did not, nor does he now, have an afro."

Almost. Somehow the most intense moment was that one Smoltz at-bat, where he fouled off like twenty pitches and sort of looked like he wanted to kill someone. Of course, there was also Dreamboat Devy's triumphant return to the scene, but I'm probably the only one who frets over Dev's emotional well-being with every walk. At least he got out of the inning! And hey, there were weird Star Trek metaphors, courtesy of the Carays! But mostly - that one hurt.

Today's Starting Pitchers

John Smoltz Braves vs.  Jeff Francis Rockies 10-5 W-L 11-5 2.84 ERA 4.12 117 SO 102 26 BB 37 10 HR 16 vs. Rockies -- vs. Braves

Game Time: 7:35 on

I got talked into going to trivia at a bar last night, promised that the game would be shown there . . . of course when we arrived our group had picked a table in the worst location possible, right underneath a TV that I had to destroy my neck to try and see. In the next room, there was a giant projection screen showing the game, and I kept volunteering to turn in trivia answers so I could stand in there and watch a few at-bats. One of them was Teixeira's (I'm still working on the nickname), and I just knew he was going to hit that homer and tie the game. I was jumping up and down, running back into the other room to give my largely indifferent friends the news, going on about how great this trade was, etc etc . . .

Then we got home just in time to see Rent injured and a pitcher I previously thought was our rightful closer give up a slam. I literally CANNOT watch extra inning games against the Astros (I was just coming back to baseball after a long hiatus at the end of 2005, and the 18-inning game was the first one that really gave me that "I'm going to die if we don't win this" feeling again . . .), so I went to bed around the 11th or something, dejected. I'm glad I didn't stay up for the whole thing, though apparently Matty was valiant as usual.

Rent getting hurt feels like such a bad omen, but hopefully it's not serious. I can't go through another ankle injury with one our best hitters out when we need him most. And speaking of that, yes, I had a heart attack when Heap got plunked on the elbow, and I had to sit there keeping my reaction under control while someone at my table called him "Todd McCann."

Oh, and on a semi-related note: yogurt? NOT a good hangover food. What was I thinking??

I don't really know how to feel, but I'm leaning toward happy, because I like this Tex fella we've accumulated, and now Salty won't be wasted at first base; I really think he missed catching. Still, he was ouuurrrrrs. Oh, well.

How sad did he look on Sunday afternoon when we were giving the Diamondbacks a 14-0 pounding and he was unable to participate? I think even Bobby Dews hit a slam off of Livan Hernandez at one point. I was waiting for someone to somberly shout "TRADED MAN WALKING!" when Salty got up for water.

They had yesterday off, but I'm SURE they all got together to give him a proper send off.

~~

Last night, at Frenchy's house, amidst balloons and streamers, and beneath a giant "BON VOYAGE, S'LAMACCHIA!" banner, many of the Braves are gathered, drinking from plastic party cups and waiting for the guest of honor to arrive . . .

Heap: So this is your new house, eh?
Frenchy: Yeah, what do you think?
Heap: Total downgrade.
Frenchy: HEY
Heap: Just kidding -- uh, is that a painting of your Sports Illustrated cover over the fireplace there?
Frenchy: Yeah! I was gonna have a print blown up to wall size, but I thought this would be classier.

Salty walks in looking dejected, and everyone turns to greet him.

Frenchy: Hey, there you are! Are you excited about going to Texas?
Salty: /glares at him
Salty: Um. NO.
Frenchy: Why not?! You'll be a starting catcher there! You're gonna be a big star!
Salty: But . . . but . . .
Salty: /lip quivers
Salty: Don't the Rangers, like . . .
Salty: SUCK?
Salty: /bursts into tears

Scooter: Well, this year they do, but with you on board, hey! You can turn the whole franchise around!
Salty: /sniffles
Salty: I guess.
Scooter: I was born in Texas, and it's a great place to live. Don't be sad! We'll miss you--
Heap: /stifles laughter
Scooter: /hits him
Scooter: But you'll make new friends!
Salty: /wipes tears
Salty: Yeah, like who? I forgot the Rangers even existed until this trade talk started. They got anybody good?

Heap: Um, they've got Kevin Millwood. He played for the Braves when I was in middle school.
Salty: So he's OLD?
Heap: No, he's not old! Not that old, anyway. They've also got Jamey Wright. He used to be good . . . I think?
Scooter: No, you're thinking of someone else.
Salty: OH MY GOD. They all suck, don't they?
Frenchy: No! They've got C.J. Wilson and Eric Gagne! They're great!
Salty: Yeah . . . well . . . whose job am I gonna be stealing?
Heap: The catchers on their roster right now are Laird and Melhuse.
Salty: Who and what? I thought I was replacing Pudge?
Heap: No, Salty. He hasn't played for the Rangers since 2002.
Frenchy: But don't worry about the other two, they're hitting about .052 combined.
Scooter: Yeah, so people are gonna love you!
Salty: Well, DUH, Kelly. That's not the issue here.

Suddenly, Good Davies bursts through the door, out of breath.

Good Davies: Have you heard anything new??
Good Davies: /panting
Good Davies: It's not really . . . the Royals . . . is it?!

Awkward silence ensues.

Frenchy: See, Salty, it could be worse!
Good Daves: /weeps
Evil Davies: Oh, give it a rest, you weakling.
Good Davies: What are YOU doing here?!
Evil Davies: Like I was going to waste my time sabotaging AAA games.
Evil Davies: I've actually been spending quite a bit of time with your fiancee while you've been in Virginia. We've kind of hit it off, really.
Good Davies: I'LL KILL YOU
Evil Davies: /hisses
Good Davies: Frenchy, how could you invite him?! Did you think he was me?
Frenchy: Um, no. He's actually kind of cool. Did you know he dated Alyssa Milano?
Good Davies: Ugh, who HASN'T?! And anyway, look, he's totally drawing a mustache on your painting of that Sports Illustrated cover!
Frenchy: /whirls around
Frenchy: GET DOWN FROM THERE YOU BASTARD!!!!
Evil Davies: /laughs
Evil Davies: /flees into the night

As the party winds down, Salty sits out on the front porch to mope and say goodbye to his former teammates as they head home. Heap is the last to leave.

Salty: Hey, old timer, come over here for a second.
Heap: Wha--oh. I didn't realize you were still here. Um, I guess this is goodbye.
Salty: Listen, man. I want you to know you've taught me a lot.
Heap: I have? Every time I tried to give you tips about the pitchers you talked over me with your own "tips" about how to "keep them in line."
Salty: Oh, I don't mean about catching. Ha! As if I could learn anything about that from you-- No, I'm talking about life lessons.
Heap: You've got like five seconds before I punch you in the face and walk away.
Salty: Like that time you told me, "THAT'S NOT CANDY!" when I tried to eat that blue stuff in Frenchy's locker, or when you told me I should probably quit double-parking my truck across Smoltz and Andruw's spaces, and how you said my wife would probably not see the humor in pinching Our Katy Temple's butt on the pre-game show --
Heap: Right, I get it. Look, I gotta go. Good luck in--
Salty: WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY, HEAP, IS--
Salty: /hugs him
Salty: You've been like a grandfather to me.

~~

Go kick some American League ass, Saltalamacch. But not too much ass, cause that would make us look stupid.

What an obnoxious loss. Eric Byrnes continues to hold a steady spot in my personal Top Ten Worst Things That Exist list. Let's see what the Braves had to say about last night:

"I'm not talking anymore," said Ledezma.

Whatever. He's probably a dick, but more importantly: who will make the cattier comment in response, Dave O'Brien or Mark Bowman??

O'Brien:

[Ledezma] couldn't recall when he'd been interviewed after a game since coming from Detroit in a June trade.

Bowman:

"We hit the ball to the wall all night long," Cox said. "The ball just wasn't going for us."

If he were talking, Ledezma would have to confirm the ball was at least traveling for one team in the latter innings.

Wow, I'm actually gonna have to give the edge to Bowman, there. O'Brien does include this gem that Bowman of course leaves out of the official write-up:

When asked if Reyes would get another start, Cox said, "I don't know who the [expletive] else I'd start."

But really, the best of the morning has got to be this curiosity from the weekly Frenchy Fun Facts article:

"He's going to drive in 100, and he's playing a great right field," manager Bobby Cox said of Francoeur, who had three errors and 13 outfield assists, after totaling nine errors and 13 assists in 2006. "And you don't ever have to worry about him playing. He was sick all night [Thursday], vomiting."

It's really rare that I call TMI on a quote having to do with a ballplayer, but dang, Bobby.

Also, please tell me I'm not the only one writing about this game who used the above title. I mean, there's just no way.

Yesterday Rain Delay suggested that I write something about Heap and Frenchy's high school days. Of course those two had actual high school days together (sort of -- they didn't go to the same school, but apparently they were buddies then, too), but what fun would that be unless I pretended that the others went to school with them? I'd already written this sort of unfunny thing about where the Braves would sit at lunch if they went to high school together -- you know, the cool seniors table (Chipper, Rent, Smoltz, Andruw, Huddy), then the semi-cool but mostly dorky juniors table (Frenchy, Heap, Scooter, formerly Davies, Thor, Chuckie), the bullpen (Wicky, etc.: lots of eating contests), the freshmen (Yuney, Salty, now Jo-Jo) and of course the dorks (Diaz, Woodward, and the king of the dorks, Orr, running his elaborte Connect Four tournaments from the Dork Table).

So that was kind of lame and I just put it aside, but now, thanks to RD's suggestion and some inspiration from last night's game, I have come up with the perfect high school metaphor, and yeah, it's kind of weird, but at least not as dark as the Huddy-beats-the-ever-loving-crap-out-of-Wicky idea I had earlier.

~~

It's after five o'clock at Random Suburban High School, and a group of students has stayed late to work on their science project . . .

Heap: Man, Huddy, I'm so glad we have you to help us with this.
Frenchy: Yeah, you're like. Awesome at science.
Huddy: Thanks fellas, and may I say that I am feeling particularly awesome at science tonight?
Heap: Yeah, I could tell! So what's the plan?
Huddy: A working volcano, of course!
Scooter: Brilliant!
Heap: I'll help you draw up the plans.
Frenchy: I'll go buy the supplies.
Scooter: And I'll paint it when you're done!

Huddy: Cool, sounds good. But aren't there two more people in our group?
Chipper: /shows up at the classroom door
Chipper: /smacking gum arrogantly
Heap: /whispers to Frenchy
Heap: Oh my God it's Chipper Jones!!
Frenchy: Shut up, shut up! Act cool.
Heap: /nods enthusiastically
Chipper: Hey.
Huddy: Hey, man. You gonna help us?
Chipper: I sure am.
Chipper: /dumps an armload of materials on Huddy's desk
Chipper: There ya go.
Huddy: Wow, thanks! I'll be able to make an awesome volcano with this stuff.
Chipper: No problem. Later.
Frenchy: BYE CHIPPER!
Chipper: /saunters off

Frenchy organizes the supplies while Heap and Huddy make plans. When the volcano is constructed, Scooter puts on the finishing touches.

Heap: Wow, that was easier than I thought it would be! Great job, Huddy!
Huddy: Thanks, kid. Just have to test it to make sure it works--
Huddy: /pours chemicals in

Volcano: /does nothing
Huddy: Oh, dammit! Why isn't this thing working!
Frenchy: Man, we were almost done, too!
Huddy: Hmm, what did I do wrong . . .?

Barry Bonds: /walks through the hall, clutching his own science project
Barry Bonds: /peeks into the classroom where our heroes are puzzling over theirs
Barry Bonds: Hey guys.
Huddy: Huh? Oh hi, Barry.
Barry Bonds: Check this out.
Barry Bonds: /holds up a professional-looking volcano that is spewing lava successfully
Huddy: Hey, what the hell! How'd you finish yours so fast, and where's the rest of your group?
Barry Bonds: Those clowns? Who cares, this project is all about me and my genius.
Huddy: So how'd you do it?
Barry Bonds: Uh, you know. Science.
Huddy: Well, yeah, but what chemicals did you use?
Barry Bonds: Um.
Barry Bonds: Sodium?
Huddy: Sodium! You don't even know -- you paid someone to make that for you, didn't you!
Barry Bonds: You can't prove that!!
Huddy: Whatever, get out of here!
Huddy: /slams the door in his face

Huddy: Ugh, I need to get some fresh air and think. You guys hold down the fort while I take a walk, okay?
Heap: Sure, Hud.
Huddy: /walks off

Frenchy: Mannnn, this is taking longer than I thought it would. I'm hungry!
Heap: Well get over it, we have to finish this or we'll fail!
Scooter: I'm hungry, too. Maybe we should run down to the vending machines?
Frenchy: Yeah!!
Heap: Alright, fine. I guess I could use a snack.

A few minutes later, they return to the classroom with food from the vending machines . . .

Wicky: /standing in the doorway
Wicky: Uh, hey guys. Sorry I'm late.
Heap: Oh, that's okay, we're practically done anywa-- OH MY GOD
Volcano: /almost completely gone, only a few shreds of papier mache clinging to a plywood board
Frenchy: WHOA
Scooter: What the hell happened??!
Wicky: /sad face
Wicky: I . . . sat on it.
Heap: WHAT?!
Wicky: Okay, I ate it!!

Huddy: /appears in the doorway
Huddy: WICKY ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME
Wicky: Sorry, I'm really sorry! I only wanted to help!!
Heap: And eating our science project helps how?!
Wicky: It seemed like a good idea at the time!
Huddy: All my hard work!
Scooter: We're gonna fail!

Rent: /appears in the hallway
Rent: Hey guys, what's wrong?
Huddy: EVERYTHING
Rent: Oh gosh, I'm sorry to hear that. I just wanted to let you guys know that I went ahead and finished our science project and turned it in this afternoon.
Huddy: Buh--wha--I didn't even know you were in our group!
Heap: Yeah, we would have helped you!
Rent: Oh, that's okay, I don't mind! Anyway, see you later!

Huddy: /stunned silence
Wicky: /glances at Frenchy
Wicky: Um
Wicky: You gonna finish those Funions?

~~

Later . . .

Frenchy: Oh my God, look at him over there.
Heap: So?
Frenchy: C'monnnn, it's too sad to watch him eating lunch alone! Let's invite him to sit with us.
Heap: Um, do you realize who you're talking about?
Frenchy: So he's a little weird, so what? Everyone deserves friends!

Frenchy: Hey, Salty, come sit with us!
Salty: /head jerks up
Salty: /runs over, grinning
Salty: Hey guys!
Frenchy: Hey! How are you?
Salty: Me? Oh I'm awesome of course, couldn't be better. What's that you're eating? String cheese? Did you know my great uncle invented string cheese? Yeah we're pretty much millionaires because of it, well, more like billionaires, possibly trillionaires, only, you know, we don't believe in like, showing off, so we donate most of it to charity.
Frenchy: That's--
Salty: Yeah the S'lamacchia family has built like, probably 900 homeless shelters. We're just giving like that. I had a Porshce once, but I gave it to a homeless guy. He cried.
Heap: /glares at Frenchy
Salty: Anyway, you should probably give me half of that string cheese. I mean you kinda owe me, since my family invented it and all.
Frenchy: Um, sure--
Salty: /sings "You're Simply The Best"
Salty: /with a mouthful of string cheese
Heap: /leaves the table

~~

What do you want to bet ESPN somehow picks up ALL of our games in this series? FUN. Especially since I Tivo the late ones and therefore do not have the option of listening along with the radio instead . . . just kick their asses, boys.

~~

Last night, on the midnight flight to San Francisco . . .

Andruw: What a crappy series.
Willie: It wasn't all bad.
Chipper: Yeah, we did split it with them. And you homered in the opener.
Andruw: But Tony LaRussa yelled at me!!
Chipper: Well, Terry told him off for you, didn't he?
Andruw: Yeah, but then they hit Heap in retalliation! Out of all us they picked Heap, Chipper? The Cardinals are mean.
Chipper: Well, whatever. At least the Giants suck. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day. Or today, I should say, ugh.

Heap: /asleep
Frenchy: /pokes his arm
Frenchy: Hey, wake up, we're here! Gaw, Heap, you're always sleeping!
Heap: /rubs eyes, puts on his glasses
Heap: Frenchy, I just took a six hour midnight flight, what the hell do you expect? Look around, everyone else is tired, too.
Frenchy: /glances around at players who are yawning and complaining about ESPN
Heap: Man, I can't wait to get in bed! I hope the drive to the hotel won't be long.
Frenchy: You didn't even play tonight! Maybe Saltalamacch has a point, ya old codger.
Heap: /punches him
Frenchy: Hey, ow!

The players walk off the plane and through the airport. There is some sort of commotion at the exit, where the team bus is waiting . . .

Bobby: What the hell's all this?
Reporter: Oh my God, here they come!! It's the Braves!
Salty: /steps forward, grinning
Salty: Sorry, fellas, what can I say! I can't go anywhere without getting my picture taken, what a nuisance! Better give the people what they want, though--
Reporter: /runs to Smoltz
Reporter: What's it like to know that tomorrow you will be pitching to THE Barry Bonds!!
Smoltz: Well, I've pitched to him before--
Reporter: Yes but not when he was about to BREAK THE HOME RUN RECORD!!
Smoltz: Right, I understand that--
Reporter: As a Brave, do you feel TOTALLY BETRAYED that Atlanta's most revered sports record is about to be broken?!
Smoltz: Well -- uh -- maybe you should talk to Huddy. He's pitching Tuesday, much more likely to have the record breaker hit off of him--
Reporter: /runs over to Huddy
Huddy: /gives Smoltz a dirty look
Smoltz: /smirks and runs for the bus
Reporter: TIM HUDSON HOW DOES IT FEEL--
Huddy: /holds up a hand
Huddy: I have prepared a statement.
Huddy: /pulls a piece of paper from his pocket
Huddy: /clears throat
Huddy: "No."
Reporters: /stare

Reporter: That's your statement?
Huddy: /nods
Huddy: /runs for the bus

Heap: /yawning
Reporter: Brian McCann!! What does it feel like to be taking part in this historic event??
Heap: /blinks
Heap: What?
Reporter: The home run record! Breaking!! Very possibly against YOUR TEAM!! You were just on the All-Star team with Bonds, HOW DOES THAT COMPLICATE THINGS?!
Reporter: /shoves microphone in his face
Heap: /looks around
Heap: Um. Is that a television camera?
Reporter: Yes! You're live on TV!!
Heap: /face goes red
Heap: Um, well, er
Frenchy: What he means to say that is he's very excited, but we still want to win! We don't want Bonds hitting any homers against us, nope! But we can still appreciate the gravity of this moment in history.
Reporter: /wipes tear
Reporter: That was beautiful! Are you the PR rep for the Braves?
Frenchy: I'm the rightfielder. But, yes. Please direct all questions to me.
Salty: /pops up behind Heap's shoulder, waving his arms toward the camera
Salty: OH MY GOD AM I ON TV???
Reporter: Er--yes.
Salty: HA!! SERIOUSLY?? HI MOM!! HI ASHLEY! CHECK IT OUT YOU GUYS I'M TOTALLY IN SAN FRANCISCO!! WHAT TIME IS IT THERE?? OK I'LL CALL YOU BYE!!

Reporter: /awkward silence
Heap and Frenchy: /run for the bus
Reporter: /turns to camera
Reporter: Ha! Well, as you can see, even the bat boys are excited!

~~

I hate that Buddy will probably pitch the last game of this series. I like him, and I don't want him to remembered as the guy who gave up 756 or what have you.

Thanks to Leah for the picture of Heap wearing his glasses. I'll treasure it always.

Okay, forget everything that just happened. Help has arrived.

~~

Last night, after 15 gruelling innings, the Braves slump back to the clubhouse while dark storm clouds gather over the stadium . . .

Heap: /limping
Ambiguous Davies: /crying
Frenchy: Wait, what?
Frenchy: I'm still confused.
Frenchy: Didn't I like, win that game? In the 10th?
Frenchy: /blinks
Frenchy: I mean -- what?
Heap: FRENCHY. Wake up, okay? We told you eighty times, Phillips caught your line drive!
Frenchy: Yeah, but -- but --

Salty: /slaps Heap on the shoulder
Salty: Damn, old man, I can't believe you hung in there for fifteen! I thought I was gonna have to take over and let Huddy play first! I have a new respect for you, gramps.
Heap: /stares
Heap: Get. Away from me.
Ambiguous Davies: /sniffling
Ambiguous Davies: What is going on?? Did I just -- did I just cost us another win?
Heap: Kyle, no --
Ambiguous Davies: I can't do anything right! I don't even know which Davies I am! Why was I pinch hitting?? What's going on?!?!
Scooter: You! How about me? I totally cost us the game with that error. I'm so sorry, you guys.

Frenchy: /blinks
Frenchy: OH MY GOD WAIT
Frenchy: DID WE JUST GET SWEPT BY THE REDS?!?

Heap: /smacks forehead
Salty: What, are the Reds bad or something?
Heap: /stares at Salty
Heap: Somebody get him away from me.
Salty: Geez, you guys sure are dramatic! Like who is that over there sulking in a corner? Get over it man, it's only one series!

Everyone looks up to see a cloaked figure sitting in the corner of the clubhouse . . .

Heap: Who is THAT?
Cloaked Figure: /stands
Cloaked Figure: It seems that I have returned just in time.
Cloaked Figure: /drops cloak

Andruw: Julio!! What are you doing here?
Heap: You'll blow your cover!
Julio: There is no more need for secrecy. All has gone according to plan.
Chipper: You mean -- ?!?
Julio: Yes. My undercover work with the Mets is done. I am a Brave again. And I have returned bearing much information.
Chipper: Thanks, dude, but we've actually been kicking the Mets' asses pretty well this season as is.
Julio: Yes, but there is much more work to be done in this clubhouse.
Andruw: What do you suggest, oh wise one?
Julio: First of all --
Julio: /points to Ambiguous Davies
Julio: Get this man to the bullpen.
Ambiguous Davies: /runs in that direction

Julio: And Frenchy, we need to talk.
Frenchy: Aw, are you gonna lecture me about my diet again? I have to eat nachos before home games, it's good luck.
Julio: No, we actually need to talk about David Wright.
Frenchy: DW? What about him?
Julio: Well . . . you know he has your poster hanging in his locker at Shea.
Frenchy: Oh, yeah, I know. He's president of my fan club! In fact, he founded it. He's really nice!
Julio: Um --

Salty: Hey! New guy!
Julio: Me?
Salty: Yeah, you! Matty just told me you play first base.
Julio: Yes, that's right.
Salty: Uhh, WELL, I don't know if you've HEARD, but there's a new sheriff in town when it comes to first base.
Julio: . . . What?
Salty: Yeah I pretty much kicked Thor to the curb and the position is mine. So don't even front.
Julio: Well . . . when I spoke to the organization they said they may start me at first base occasionally, but --
Salty: WHO TOLD YOU THAT -- hey wait a minute you're kind of old.
Julio: I am the oldest position player in Major League Baseball history, yes.
Salty: /stares
Salty: /stares
Salty: So like how old are we talking about?
Julio: I'm 48 years old.
Salty: /stares
Salty: /stares
Salty: OH
Salty: I GET IT!!
Salty: Ha ha, this is a practical joke, right?!?
Salty: Like, my rookie hazing?? 'Oh, Salty, we're gonna maybe platoon you with somebody's great grandfather,' ha ha, cause I'm always giving Scrooge McCann over there a hard time for being old?? I get it!! Hilarious, guys!

Julio: /stares
Heap: Yeah, just ignore him.

Salty: Oh man, who put you up to this?? It was Thor, right? Or Matty?
Salty: Whew!
Salty: Good one, guys, really good.
Salty: I'll have to tell Our Katy Temple about that one in my pre-game press tomorrow.
Salty: She'll love it -- another great S'lamacchia anecdote!
Salty: Ha.
Salty: Hilarious.

Salty: Wait, why does he have a locker? Did -- did you guys print up all those Franco jerseys just to prank me? Ha, good job, that's . . . that's very thorough . . .
Salty: I --
Salty: Oh.
Salty: But --
Salty: . . .

Salty: BOBBY! BOBBY! WHERE'S BOBBY?!
Salty: /runs through the clubhouse frantically
Salty: HEY BOBBY DONCHA THINK I SHOULD START AT CATCHER TOMORROW ON ACCOUNT A THE OLD MAN CAUGHT FIFTEEN TODAY AND ALL!?!?

~~

I wonder if Heap will have the the day off today -- it would make sense, except that it is HEAP DAY at the ballpark, in that they're giving out little statues of Heap tonight. I will of course be there as soon as the gates open, even though they for some reason left the Heap statues unpainted, so it won't match my Frenchy statue from last year. C'mon, promotions department, you gotta think this stuff through.

I won't even make any Good/Evil Davies jokes after last night, because that was just heartbreaking, both for the team and for him personally. I don't get it, because he seemed so fragile out there, but then he still had the balls to come back out and sit in the dugout after the mini-meltdown, which gives me hope that he's not just a Delicate Pitching Flower who will never be consistent . . . I don't know. I hope he's seeing the team therapist, because his problems definitely seem mental.

Anyway, we're missing the larger issue here, cause, um. Frenchy turned the stadium lights off with his mind last night.

Of all the guys on the team who might have had telekinetic powers, I never would have guessed Frenchy, but there's pretty much no denying it now. He got pissed -- helmet-throwing-at-a-home-game pissed -- and can you blame him, given that umpiring, and the struggles of Davies, his childhood friend, and the fact that we were getting our asses handed to us by the record-breakingly awful 2007 Reds? So he's furious, throwing stuff, getting thrown out himself, and, boom. Half the outfield lights shut off.

This explains so much: why is Frenchy so good in tense, "clutch" situations? Because his telekinetic powers kick in when his emotions are heightened! You all saw it with your own eyes last night. And when Mark Bradley writes his big feature on www.frenchyhasmindpowers.com, just remember who broke the story.

As Fox Mulder once said, "If coincidences are just coincidences, why do they feel so contrived?"

Well, it's official. The actual Salty saw startsalty.com on Sunday. Worlds have collided.

~~

Saturday, before the game, reporters are clustered around Salty near home plate, as usual. Frenchy, Heap and Scooter are in the outfield.

Frenchy: /stares at reporters
Frenchy: /kicks at the grass
Frenchy: What do you think they're talking about?
Heap: Huh? Who?
Frenchy: You know, the press. And him.
Heap: Oh, I don't know. The deadline is coming up, they're probably asking him if he's afraid he'll be traded.
Frenchy: You would love that, right?!
Heap: Eh, I don't really mind if he stays.
Frenchy: But -- well -- Scoot, you probably wish they'd get rid of him, huh?
Scooter: No, why would I?
Frenchy: Cause, like, these rookies, man! With their big heads! Thinking they can steal all the attention -- I mean, our jobs! Such as yours at second!
Scooter: /glares
Scooter: Yeah, well. Nobody's stealing YOUR job. So what do you care?
Frenchy: I don't! Totally don't! I just feel bad for you guys!
Frenchy: So. Uh. I'm gonna go -- get some water.

Frenchy: /jogs over toward the gathered press

Salty: /pulls back sleeve for reporters
Salty: Ya'll seen my tattoo yet?
Cameras: /flash wildly
Salty: /grins
Salty: It says, "Salty."
Cameras: /still flashing

Frenchy: /stands on tiptoes
Frenchy: I almost got a tattoo once!!
Frenchy: Yeah, it was crazy! It was my twenty-first birthday, and we'd been, you know, celebrating, and I was gonna get a big tattoo of Scooby Doo on my back to commemorate the occasion! But Heap said I was in no state to make that kind of decision, and I would regret it! For a long time I thought he was right, but--

Reporters: /ignore Frenchy
Katy Temple: So, Salty, how comfortable do you feel at first base?
Salty: First base! Pssh!
Salty: /flicks hand dismissively
Salty: On a scale of one to ten?
Salty: I am a thousand percent comfortable.
Reporters: /write furiously on notepads

Frenchy: I am totally comfortable in right, by the way, Katy!
Frenchy: Just in case you were wondering!

Katy Temple: /ignores Frenchy
Katy Temple: Salty, do you realize you're on pace to contend for Rookie of the Year?
Salty: Oh I thought I already won that.

~~

Later, during the rain delay:

Frenchy: /sits in the dugout, moping.
Heap: Hey, what are you doing out here? The game won't restart for awhile -- don't you want to come play Connect Four with everyone?
Frenchy: Not even Connect Four could cheer me up right now.
Heap: What the hell's wrong?
Frenchy: You wouldn't understand.
Heap: Wha -- hey, look.
Heap: /points to giant TV screen
Heap: They're showing that TV show they made about you. The one where you didn't even mention me once.
Frenchy: /looks up, grinning
Frenchy: Those were the good old days, Heap. Reporters at my house, following me around everywhere. I couldn't even go to the grocery store without getting my picture taken! God, I didn't know how good I had it! I --
Frenchy: /turns around
Frenchy: Heap?

Heap: /returns from the clubhouse, with half the team following
Heap: Check it out, guys.
Heap: /points up to the screen
Heap: He talks about crying like, five times.
Huddy: /sits down to watch
Frenchy: Hey, um, c'mon guys, this is kind of -- between me and my fans.
Huddy: /stares
Huddy: Tell one of the rookies to make us some popcorn.

~~

After Frenchy is humiliated thoroughly, the game resumes . . .

Frenchy: /walk-off hit in the bottom of the ninth
Heap: YAYYYY
Heap: /punches the crap out of him, fun-lovingly

Katy Temple: Oh my God, how are you so awesome?!
Frenchy: I don't know, I just am!!
Cameras: /flash wildly

~~

The next morning, the players arrive for the Sunday afternoon game . . .

Reporters: Frenchy! Frenchy!
Frenchy: /big grin
Frenchy: Yes?
Reporters: Have you heard?? The big news??
Frenchy: Big news! No, I just rolled out of bed five minutes ago. Did -- someone get traded??
Frenchy: /looks around for Salty
Mark Bradley: /produces laptop
Mark Bradley: No, nobody got traded. But check this out.
Laptop: /startsalty.com

Mark Bradley: I mean that's pretty awesome right.
Frenchy: Ughhhhhh, yeah.
Frenchy: I've actually seen that before.
Mark Bradley: People sure love Salty.
Frenchy: . . . Yeah.

Salty: /walks in
Salty: Hey! Where's the lineup?
Salty: /reads
Salty: CATCHER! YESSS!!!!
Salty: /runs over to Heap
Salty: Did you hear I'm starting at catcher!!!?!?
Heap: /stares
Heap: Yes.
Salty: My, how the tables have turned!!!
Heap: It's just one start. Hey, they're talking about your website over there.
Salty: Psssh, when aren't people talking about my website?

Bobby: /walks over to reporters
Bobby: What's all this commotion?
Mark Bradley: I was just showing the guys this great fan-created website.
Mark Bradley: Check out this hilarious satirical picture of you and Scott Thorman!
Mark Bradley: It's obviously a joke about the fate of the Titanic!

Bobby: /stares
Bobby: /stares
Bobby: /stares
Bobby: SALTY

Salty: Yo, boss, how's it hanging?
Bobby: What the hell is this?
Bobby: /points to laptop
Salty: What -- OH SH--

Salty: I mean, um.
Salty: I have no idea!
Salty: Don't look at me!
Salty: I don't even know how to turn a computer on!
Salty: Ha, I mean who does, am I right?!
Salty: Nerds, maybe!
Salty: And I am obviously not one of those!

Bobby: /stares
Bobby: /shrugs
Bobby: /walks off

Salty: . . .
Salty: I'm still starting, though, right?

~~

What I wouldn't give to have been in the dugout while they were all watching The Frenchy Show on the jumbotron. Also, there had better be a Heap Show forthcoming, and for that matter, a Salty Show.

After reading Martin's article about the All-Star game, I was thinking about writing something about baseball players and their treatment of the press, about the fact that most of them are not as honest as Smoltz was about his feelings on the All-Star game, why this is and whether or not fans really want honesty from them, when athletes so often get something that looks like a huge backlash when they speak their minds, because fans get excited about it, and in the midst of the big deal we enjoy making about a bullshit-free quote, players decide they don't want to deal with the fallout and vow to keep their mouths shut rather than answer a thousand follow up questions, etc, etc, BUT, then I saw this glorious complaint about the modern Braves nicknaming system posted on the AJC's website this morning, so that original idea is just going to have to go on hold for now.

The AJC article complains that Bobby's nicknames are uncreative. I completely agree! Corrales invented "Frenchy," the only one I really love. They've got a poll up about the best nickname, and over there they insist that Heap's is "Mack." Yeah, whatever. That nickname is losing horribly in the polls, and I'm not surprised -- look at him, for crying out loud. He's just not a "Mack." I initially wasn't a fan of the Heap nickname, but I was always so averse to calling him "Mack" that I eventually started using it, and it stuck until it grew on me. I've never heard Bobby say it, but I did hear Frenchy shout "C'mon Heap!" from the on-deck circle once (picked up on the Bobby Mic on TV), and Davies accidentally called him Heap in an on-field interview once, then had to explain, and I've always loved this early Frenchy interview where Bill Shanks tries to get in on the fun and asks, "Ok so after you found out, what happened when you talked with Heep?" both because I can picture myself asking Frenchy that question after any conceivable incident, and because whenever people misspell it "Heep" it makes me think of Heap as a marshmallow Easter candy.

I sometimes (guiltily) wonder if Heap likes fans referring to him by his minor league nickname. I've heard reports that you'll get quite a surprised reaction out of him if you shout it to him on the field.

But at any rate, it's time for a nicknaming renaissance, and if Bobby won't lead the charge, we'll have to do it ourselves. Scooter is a good start, and I actually have my own super secret nicknames for some of the guys, most of which are fit to print (only one that really isn't, but it's been mostly retired because I like the guy better now, and also the situation that earned him the nickname in the first place is no more). Here are a few:

Effy
Henchy (resulting from talking fast one day and saying "Henchy and Freap")
Figgy (short for Figjam)
Poolhouse
South Beach
Aubby
Buttercup (this one's impossible to figure out logically -- to be honest I don't even completely remember how I came up with it)

How about you guys? Anyone have anything weird or unique that they use as a player's nickname? Or am I alone in my fascination with coming up with nicknames based on nicknames until I can only think "who in the hell is that" when I hear their proper first names?

I knew Heap would take care of the Evil Davies situation. Check out this headline:

"Davies, McCann handle Padres"

Damn right . . . I bet they handled a little something else together, too . . .

~~

Yesterday afternoon, before the game, Heap arrives at the clubhouse . . .

Heap: So I have to take a train to San Francisco for the All-Star game.
Frenchy: Uh-huh.
Heap: By myself.
Frenchy: Right.
Heap: I mean, a train, Frenchy. I've never even been on a train before. What if I miss my stop? How do I find the dining car? What if there's an Agatha Christie-style murder and I have to help solve it? Last year Andruw rented a private jet and gave me a ride to the All-Star game. A private jet, man! I didn't even have to drive myself to the airport!
Frenchy: Well, if you wanted my sympathy, maybe you should have nominated me to go with you instead of Smoltz.
Heap: Uhh, it doesn't really work that way --
Frenchy: Whatever, I'm going to Florida. It's going to be WAY FUNNER.
Frenchy: /storms off

Heap: Ugh . . . hey, Kyle, what are you doing?
Evil Davies: /sticks a roll of duct tape behind his back
Evil Davies: Why . . . nothing, Brian. Why do you ask?
Heap: What's up with you calling me "Brian," dude? You haven't called me that since Little League.
Evil Davies: Ah, why, nothing is up, I assure you . . .
Heap: Why are you talking all -- HEY, WAIT A MINUTE! How did you grow your goatee back so fast?? You just shaved that thing off this morning!
Evil Davies: What--whatever would make you think that?
Heap: You came by to borrow my shaving cream! Then you said you needed to borrow my sink . . . and you made me stand there and watch you shave, "just in case." And I was like "just in case of what??" and -- it was like you wanted to make sure I knew you'd shaved!!!

Evil Davies: /smiles (evilly)
Evil Davies: You are very perceptive, Mr. McCann.
Evil Davies: /wields duct tape
Evil Davies: A little too perceptive, I'd say.
Evil Davies: /pulls off a piece of duct tape
Evil Davies: Good thing we have a backup catcher!

Heap: No! Stay back!
Heap: /grabs the Ex-Bat of Destruction.
Heap: /points
Evil Davies: /hisses

Salty: /rounds the corner, in full catcher's gear
Salty: Did someone say backup catch--HOLY CRAP

Heap: Salty, stay clear! This is some sort of evil Davies Doppelganger!
Salty: SOME SORT OF WHAT
Heap: /slashes toward Evil Davies with the Ex-Bat
Heap: Where is the real Davies??
Evil Davies: I am the real Davies!
Salty: OH MY GOD
Salty: OLD MAN MCCANN HAS GONE SENILE!!
Salty: /runs

Something in a nearby janitorial closet: /thumps against the door
Heap: He's in there, isn't he? Release him!!
Evil Davies: /sneers
Evil Davies: You may have won this round, McCann . . .
Evil Davies: But I'll be back!
Evil Davies: /flees the scene

Heap: /stows the Ex-Bat back in his gym bag
Heap: /opens the closet, unties Good Davies
Good Davies: Heap! Thank goodness! I knew I could count on you -- where's my brother?
Heap: Your brother??
Good Davies: It's kind of a long story . . . I'll explain later.
Heap: Right, we'd better go get you warmed up for the game . . . c'mon!
Good Davies: Yay!

Salty: /rounds the corner, with half the team following
Salty: SEE HE'S TRYING TO KILL KYLE

Heap: What are you talking about, Salty?
Good Davies: Trying to kill me! Ha!

Heap and Good Davies: /walk off laughing

Chipper: Dammit, kid, quit accusing Heap of going senile, ya hear me?
Andruw: Yeah, last time you said that he was just sitting in the clubhouse watching Wheel of Fortune.
Salty: But only crazy old people watch that show! And I'm telling you, he was trying to kill Kyle with a broken bat!!
Chipper: /shakes his head
Andruw: /walks off

Salty: But . . . but . . .
Salty: I'm still starting at first, right?

~~

Later, just before the 9th inning . . .

Evil Davies: They think they can get rid of me that easily, hmmmm?

Evil Davies: /places a bucket of fried chicken at the bullpen door
Wicky: Hmm hmm hmm -- what's this?
Wicky: /glances at watch
Wicky: Eh, I've got time!

Evil Davies: /puts on Wicky costume
Evil Davies: Mwhahaha!

Evil Davies As Wicky: /gets two outs, just to make the collapse sting worse

Evil Davies As Wicky: /gives up hit
Evil Davies As Wicky: /gives up hit
Evil Davies As Wicky: /gives up hit
Evil Davies As Wicky: /gives up hit
Evil Davies As Wicky: /gives up hit

Evil Davies As Wicky: Mwhahaha! Everything is going according to pla--
Marcus Giles: /steps into batter's box
Evil Davies As Wicky: Oh, holy hell -- how do you NOT strike Marcus Giles out?!
Evil Davies As Wicky: /throws strike
Marcus Giles: /fouls
Evil Davies As Wicky: /throws ball
Marcus Giles: /swings and misses
Evil Davies As Wicky: Dammit, fine, here's a perfect one! You CAN'T miss this, you infuriating little imp!
Evil Davies As Wicky: /throws strike right down the middle of the plate
Marcus Giles: /stares
Braves: /win

Evil Davies As Wicky: AHH, FOILED AGAIN!!
Marcus Giles: /

Marcus Giles: AWWWW, LEMME HAVE A DO-OVER!!! C'MON!

~~

Someone mentioned last week that I should post a link to The Dugout, just in case anyone on here hasn't found it yet -- if you like this sort of dialogue-style baseball humor, you'll love The Dugout, which is a regular comic about chatrooms for MLB players . . . it's genius (also totally uncensored, so if you're sensitive about any offensive language whatsoever . . . avoid). Here's one of my favorite strips about the Braves.

There's been a lot of talk lately about Smoltz's injury and Jo-Jo "Don't Forget the Dash!" Reyes coming up to have a start in the series against the Padres, but as usual, most news sources are missing the important issues here. First of all, BREAKING NEWS: according to the AJC notes, Salty won't be friendless much longer:  

"He's awesome, man," said Saltalamacchia, who became a close friend of the pitching prospect while they were teammates at three minor-league levels, including this season at Class AA Mississippi.

Reyes has the "awesome, man" seal of approval, so he and Salty must be pretty tight. That's good to know, but we've still got a problem: with Smoltz missing the All-Star game to get rested up for the second half, Heap will be headed out to San Francisco alone. Last year he had Andruw and Rent for company, and when they immediately ditched him for their cooler friends upon arrival, he at least had fellow country boy Dan Uggla to hang out with. But Uggla didn't make the team this year, and Smoltzie is no longer going, so what's the Heapster to do?

Let's take a look at the potential Friends of Heap on the NL All-Star Roster this year . . .

Starters -- Well, Wright, Reyes and Beltran are Mets, so they're all out of the question. Same goes for Utley, one of those dirty Phillies. Barry Bonds? I kinda doubt it. Ken Griffey Jr. seems nice enough, but he's an older guy with kids, and Heapster needs a young buddy to party with. Maybe Prince Fielder? I don't know much about him, except that he can hit -- allow me to consult his biography . . . "Enjoys listening to music and spending time with his son." Well, Heap likes music I suppose, but the All-Star players usually have their kids with them during the festivities, so Prince will probably be busy. But hey, Russell Martin, fellow catcher, is single and childless! Let's see . . . he's Canadian, and Heap seems to get along with the likes of Thor and company well enough, so maybe these two catchers will hit it off -- ah, but what's this . . . "lived in Paris from age 8-10"?? "Accomplished saxophone player"?? Yeah, maybe not.

Reserves -- J.J. Hardy is a possibility -- "favorite movie is "The Rock" . . . favorite food is steak"; sounds like Heap's kinda guy, but maybe Hardy will be busy hanging out with teammate Prince Fielder? Cabrera is a possibility, but his Wikipedia page claims he practices Santeria (you know, like the song, only he does practice it), and we all know how Heap feels about animal sacrifice. Heap tried to befriend Matt Holliday last year, but Holliday seemed to think he was too cool for Heap. He probably still does. Jerk.

He could always hang out with some of the pitchers -- bar fightin' Hamels or DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?! Peavy, perhaps? Between those two and Dmitri Young, Heap will be lucky to get back from San Francisco without a criminal record.

Maybe he should just bring Frenchy along. I remember reading that he made the trip to Pittsburgh last year to watch Heap play, and I'm sure he'd be happy to do it again. Don't forget to leave a ticket for him at will call, Heap.

But wait! Frenchy might actually be busy over the All-Star break:

According to Hitchcock, a casting call will be held for actors and extras on Monday and Tuesday, July 9 and 10 at The Lodge [...] Thousands of extras and many actors are needed for this film [...] Several roles for white baseball players age 18-24 will also be cast.

I'm sure Frenchy is already putting together his headshots, having his teeth whitened and practicing his elocution. Sorry, Heap, I guess you're on your own.

Well, now Bobby is openly agitated and something's gotta give. Evil Davies has thrown his last lame assed two inning start: he must be destroyed. But who's the man for the job? Who will finally figure out what's up and come to Good Davies' rescue? I'm not holding my breath for McDowell to save the day, but it looks like Heap is starting to suspect something . . .

~~

Last night, at Dodger Stadium . . .

Good Davies: /locked in a closet, unconscious

Evil Davies: Heh heh heh.
Evil Davies: Let's do this thing . . .

Evil Davies: /gives up a walk
Evil Davies: /a double
Evil Davies: /a single
Evil Davies: /wipes face with shirt to hide evil grin

Heap: /runs out to mound
McDowell: /follows

Heap: Hey, Kyle, you feeling alright out here?
Evil Davies: Why, yes, Brian, I'm fine.
McDowell: /yawns
McDowell: Well, if you say so.
Heap: (( . . . "Brian"? Did Kyle just call me "Brian"??))

Heap: ((Wait a minute . . .))
Evil Davies: Don't worry, gentlemen, I'll retire the next batter.
Heap: ((Something's not right here.))
Ump: Okay, let's go!

Heap: /trotting back
Heap: Psst! Hey, Roger!
McDowell: Huh?
Heap: Did Kyle seem . . . weird to you?
McDowell: /stares
McDowell: Who the hell is Kyle?

Later . . .

Heap: /homers
Evil Davies: Alright, Brian, excellent work! I sure hope we don't lose the lead you just gave us, ha ha! That would be quite disappointing!

Heap: ((What the hell . . .))

Back in the dugout . . .

Frenchy: YAYYYY!
Heap: Hey, thanks . . .
Heap: /pulls him aside
Heap: Listen . . . does Kyle seem strange to you sometimes? Like today . . . he just seems different somehow. I can't figure it out.
Frenchy: Well . . . he's sucking, if that's what you mean.
Heap: Yeah, but -- it's more than that. Like, he called me Brian.
Frenchy: /frowns
Frenchy: Who the hell is BRIAN?
Heap: Oh well, I guess I'll ask him about it after the game . . .

Evil Davies is taken out of the game, wanders back to the clubhouse . . .

Evil Davies: Oh, woe is me!
Evil Davies: /turns the corner
Evil Davies: /grins
Evil Davies: Mwhahahaha!

Evil Davies: /throws open a broom closet
Good Davies: /falls out
Evil Davies: C'mon, you weakling, time for you to mope out there in the dugout. I had to make this a quick one, I've got plans downtown.
Good Davies: /moans
Good Davies: Why are you doing this??
Evil Davies: /unties him
Evil Davies: Nothing personal, broseph, but I've got money on the Mets winning the division.

After the game:

Good Davies: /holds back tears
Good Davies: "I have to make an adjustment. If I don't, I'm going to keep getting beat up."

Heap: Hey Kyle, are you okay--
Good Davies: Just leave me alone, Heap, alright? I've got a lot on my mind!
Good Davies: /runs for the team bus
Heap: Hmmmmmm . . .

~~

If anyone can figure things out and salvage Good Davies' reputation, it's Heap. I just hope it happens soon . . .

On Saturday they had Salty miked, as they should during every game. He was trying to get some information from either Davies or Carlyle (they're rocking the same facial hair these days, and I couldn't tell), and Davies or Carlyle (probably Evil Davies, I'd wager) was being all snubby, as I guess everyone is (did anyone else catch Andruw giving Salty the stone cold brush off when he had the nerve to try and do the Frenchy-Andruw elbow knock with Andruw after his homer on Sunday? Damn, it was harsh!), so Salty tried to continue the conversation from another angle: he said he'd send an email about his question, said "we can talk on the computer," to which the mysterious starting pitcher (again, probably Evil Davies) scoffed, "What, are you writing a book?" Salty was understandably miffed, because it was a legitimate baseball question, and come ON, you guys, were you this mean to all the rookies?! Then he started ranting about how he thought Bobby had forgotten that he's a switch hitter, but anyway it got me thinking about Salty's email correspondance . . .

~~

- - - - -

To: noIMtherealdavies@gmail.com
From: SALTYRULZZZZ@yahoo.com

RE: That thing we were talking about!!!!

Hey Kyle! Remember in the dugout when I asked you "what is that pitch that guy just threw?" and you said "I'm kind of busy right now ask me later" and then opened a pack of sunflower seeds and stared at the field? Well are you still eating sunflower seeds and staring at things, or can you answer my question yet???

And to answer YOUR question, yes I am writing a book. It's called Why Salty Should Start Everyday: A Comprehensive Discussion of the Nine Positions He Can Play and How Much He'd Rule At All of Them, but my question about that pitch was unrelated.

Your friend,
Salty

PS: What is up with your email address? OK Bye

- - - - -

To: dontblamecanada@comcast.net
From: SALTYRULZZZZ@yahoo.com

RE: L.A.!!

Hey Thor, what's up with you?? Other than me stealing your job, ha ha! Just kidding. Though I really am stealing it, but we're still buds, right?

Anyway, what I was trying to ask you on the plane last night when all of a sudden you fell asleep was: want to hang out while we're in L.A.? You could give me some advice about playing first base, and maybe I could give you some advice about pinch hitting! Not that I am a career pinch hitter (HA HA, yeah RIGHT!), but I'm still awesome at coming off the bench if needed, so I'm your man to get you ready for your new role on the team! You're welcome in advance, friend!

See you soon,
Salty

- - - - -

To: mispronounced@bellsouth.net
From: SALTYRULZZZZ@yahoo.com

RE: WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!

MATTY

Are you kidding me with that little stunt you pulled yesterday?! You think you're going to steal that first base job from me, don't ya?? First of all let me say FAT CHANCE! You just better watch out, any day now I could start playing first AND left field, SIMULTANEOUS GOLD GLOVE CALIBER!! That is a defensive rating coined especially for me, by me. So YOU better watch YOUR back, got it?!

Man, I thought you were my friend!! That one time when you gave me a piece of gum? That meant a lot to me. You're like one of three guys on the team who actually speaks to me.

I FEEL SO BETRAYED

But do you want to hang out while we're in L.A.? Like, In-and-Out Burger tomorrow night?

K, cool, talk to you later,
Salty

- - - - -

To: daveobrien@ajc.com
From: SALTYRULZZZZ@yahoo.com

RE: All-Star Snub

Hello, sir, where is the article about how Salty got snubbed for the All-Star game??? Yeah, Renteria is good and all, but can he SWITCH HIT?!

The NL team is doomed without Salty. Are they kidding me, putting Old Man McCann on there?!?! His time has come and gone!! Embrace the next generation, or embrace defeat!

Sincerely,
A Concerned Braves Fan

PS: Please see www.startsalty.com for more info.

- - - - -

To: IHeartPlatoons@aol.com
From: SALTYRULZZZZ@yahoo.com

RE: Just a little reminder

Hi, Bobby, what's up. I was just sitting around thinking -- you've been playing me in a lot of games against lefties lately, which is awesome. Totally hall of fame management strategy, good job. But, in games against right handed pitchers, you've been benching me, which got me thinking -- did anyone ever tell you that I can hit left handed, too?

I know, I know, it's hard to believe! I mean how could someone be that awesome, right?? But it's true. I guess maybe the scouts just left you out of the loop on that one, thought I'd get you up to speed.

Alright, see you at the park!

Your starting first baseman/catcher/I was also a pitcher in little league and can throw lefty or righty, whatever you need,
Jarrod Saltalamacchia

- - - - -

Has anyone else noticed that Salty shakes off the pitchers? I love him.

Today's Starting Pitchers

Buddy Carlyle Braves vs.  Dontrelle Willis Marlins 2-2 W-L 7-7 5.14 ERA 4.83 25 SO 73 12 BB 46 6 HR 14 vs. Marlins -- vs. Braves

Game Time: 1:05 on

I had a bad feeling about Wicky coming into this year - I knew he wasn't going to have that magical Not Reitsma presence for a full season, that there would be ups and downs. But I'm at the point where I get nervous whenever he comes into a game. I'm much more comfortable having a strikeout pitcher like Soriano or Yates come in to close in the 9th - though Raffy did give up a homer last night, and there have certainly been times when I've had words for Yates like the ones I had for Wicky last night. At any rate, what a relief to win that game and not have a repeat of the heartbreaker Huddy lost in Florida after he loaded the bases and left Wicky to clean up the mess - this wasn't the same situation, but it still would have been ugly.

As it was, nice game with plenty of breaks for us - but hey, umpires in Florida will continue to owe us for the 1997 NLCS for a long time, so it's all good. I think it was the last Xtra game of the year, and it didn't disappoint - who knew that Paronto was once a small child?! Hard to imagine! Miked Salty is always a delight, and I'll be searching for a copy of that "Maxim spread" program Scooter had in his locker - as Chip and Joe pointed out, I think he meant GQ, since Maxim photospreads usually feature young actresses in their underwear, not ballplayers holding bats over their shoulders.

The interview with Dontrelle was also fantastic, and it will be interesting to see him going against Buddy today. Of course, the best part of that broadcast actually had nothing to do with the Xtra features: Heap hit a double, their rightfielder made an error, and Heap ended up on third. Watching Heap run to third is, well. Fun. Hell of a way to break out of an 0-9 mini-slump: go, Heap, go!

Today's Starting Pitchers

Tim Hudson Braves vs.  Byung-Hyun Kim Marlins 7-5 W-L 3-4 3.29 ERA 5.72 67 SO 37 26 BB 32 4 HR 6 vs. Marlins -- vs. Braves

Game Time: 7:05 on

Well, that was fun. I got particularly excited about Chuckie's hits, which were just amusing. He also had a great quote:

"It's always nice to get a little dirty when I'm playing," James said. "I usually don't do that too much, unless I go out there and throw the dirt on myself."

I actually have no idea what he means by that, but whatever, it's charming.

Lately it's more 2006 nostalgia: we had our zombie Braves in June, and now 10+ runs a game as the break looms. Last year, we had a few blowout wins just before the break, then came back and scored 10 or more for five games in a row. If the Mets hadn't suffered that losing streak in June, this similarity to last season would be a really depressing development, but we're still in the race, four back from the Mets with the Phillies down to third after last night, one game behind us.

The only bad parts about last night's game were Heap going 0-6, and poor Fredi getting booed. Nice to know that the Marlins fans even care enough to boo, but I felt bad for him.