Kemp up: Flies out. Phew.
Blake up: Looks like he's stepped off the set of The Tudor's. Flies out. Double phew. (Another well hit ball...)
DeWitt up: Owt.
PHILLIES WIN
Lead series 1-0
Bedtime
Bottom Eighth: Am getting nervous. Brad "Lights Out" Lidge hasn't blown a save all season, but... Well, I've still never trusted him. He manages to put a hell of a lot of men on base. It would be just typical if tonight was his first blown save - in by far the most important game of the year. Half an inning til we find out.
DODGERS 2-3 PHILLIES
Top Eighth: This is a good game. Proof in the fact that I've miraculously managed to get through seven innings without once mentioning the Phanatic. If I do this again for Game 2, I promise to make up for the paucity of Phanatic posts tonight.
Bottom Seventh: Maddux on the mound. 355 wins in his career. Mind-boggling.
Taguchi screws up the bunt. His pop-up elicits the usual chorus of boos from the Philadelphia fans. Traditions must be upheld, I suppose. Still, at least Taguchi didn't pop out.
Brilliant play by DeWitt. Inning over.
Seventh inning stretch: A female air marshall sings 'God Bless America' a little aggressively. Sorry America, cannot hear this song without thinking of Woody Guthrie's 'This Land is Your Land'. Far superior. And please, bring back 'Take Me Out to the Ballgame' as the only seventh inning chansonnette.
Top Seventh: Rocky theme tune is playin' on the PA, of course. You know those steps at the Museum of Art actually have two footprints on the top step for you to stand in for your Rocky pose Kodak moment? It's true. People travel from all across America to the Museum of Art just to stand in those footprints. Then they skip the museum and go for a cheesesteak.
Speaking of which, I am obliged to post this pic of myself and Cubano Phil outside Geno's in Philly, legendary home of the legendary cheesesteaks. The shot was taken at 4am. This is usually where we were at 4am.
Oooooh, The Professor Greg "Mad Dog" Maddux is getting loose in the Dodgers pen. I shall say this only once*: GREATEST PITCHER IN THE HISTORY OF THE GAME OF BASEBALL.
*This is a lie. I will say it a lot. Maddux is the king.
Bottom Sixth: Perhaps it's the bloggin', but this game seems to be movin' apace. Am starting to think the Phils are waiting for me to nod off before they start hitting. Like the way the sex scene in a movie always occurs when you are out of the room, rifling fruitlessly through the refrigerator.
HOME RUN CHASE UTLEY! And you can forget my t-shirt theory. I shall wear it tomorrow, in his honour. Might slick my harris down with pomade, aussi.
DODGERS 2-2 FIGHTIN' PHILS
Meanwhile, am starting to wonder if I've hosed up the structure of this live blogging. Not that it matters, at all, of course. But still, what's worth doing...
HOME RUN PAT THE BAT! Am DEFO doing the pomade thing in the morning. Torre comes for Lowe. Gotta feel a little sorry for the guy. Pitched terrific, but you can't keep a good power lineup down, I s'pose.
DODGERS 2-3 PHILLIES
Chan Ho Park takes the mound for the Dodgers. Needs to keep the ball in the Chan Ho.
Top Sixth: Dodgers look goooood. Am trying to take my mind off it by thinking about how appropriate it is that the Dodgers of LA have a second baseman called Blake DeWitt, when Bobby DeWitt was a character in James Ellroy's The Black Dahlia. A fine book that.
SCORE REMAINS: DODGERS 2-0 PHILLIES
Bottom Fifth: Right, Phillies bats need to wake up. Speaking of which, it's now 02:45 in my English bed. I miss America (and I bet she misses me too, the hussy).
Ooh, base hit Hamels. Sweet.
Trouble is, Lowe's sinker is sinking. And with it the Phils? (God, am I poetic, or what?)
Top Fifth: In a vain effort to shut me up, my fellow amnesiac has posted some stupid entry about Swanley train station above this post - even though this post is LIVE. Let it be known that I cannot be silenced that easily. Sorry, Beardface, you shoulda sent round a woman. You know who I've got in mind...
Bottom Fourth: To liven things up a bit, and to perhaps inspire a Phillies rally, here's a pic of me at Citizen's Bank Park:
Not to boast, but I think now's the time to announce that Cole Hamels is the friend of a friend of my girlfriend. We're really close.
Meanwhile, no rally. Maybe time for a t-shirt change. Villanova is not cutting the mustard.
DODGERS 2-0 PHILLIES
Top Fourth: A lucky jam/dying quail by Kemp to lead off. Kills you, that kinda thing. Casey Blake reminds me of someone, too, but I can't remember who. Perhaps I just have doppelganger goggles on. Oh, and Derek Lowe is a bit like the guy who ran the radio station in Northern Exposure. I think the guy was also in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, though I didn't see the movie, so can't be sure, and can't be arsed to check IMDB (I'm watching the game, remember?).
On the hair front, I've noticed before that a significant portion of the Phillies players - Utley, Burrell, Werth, Dobbs - seem to flatten their hair with the same pomade George Clooney favours in O Brother Where Art Thou?
DeWitt sac fly. Kemp scores. Dodgers up by two.
Bottom third: Inning over before I got chance to adjust my duvet. The Flyin' Hawaiian, Shane Victorino (whose name elicits howls of derisive laughter from my Miami-basebd pal Cubano Phil), tries to squash Dodgers pitcher Derek Lowe on top of first base. A cunning plan, say I.
Top third: More on lookalikes. The super at my apartment block in Bryn Mawr, PA, (where the ceiling caved in) was THE SPITTING IMAGE of Yankees captain, Derek Jeter. Maddeningly, I don't have any pics of Marlon, but he used to go around with a Yankees cap perched on his head (what a give away!). Plus, when Jeter turned over his ankle, Marlon turned up the next day limping (true story). He also did nothing about my collapsed ceiling. I really liked him though. I told him he looked like Jeter's twin and he said, "Yeah, so everyone is always telling me that, you know." He also said, "'Sup?" whenever I greeted him with a hearty, "Good morning."
Meanwhile, the Dodgers look frisky. Cole pitching ok - I do love him so (he's the screensaver on my other computer; on this one, the honour goes to an aerial shot of the first night game at
Bottom second (breasts first?): No offence to the Fox commentary team, but games at Citizen's Bank Park just ain't the same without the sonorous tones of the great Harry Kalas.
Lowe doesn't like any of the balls the ump is throwing him. Pat the Bat rips one into left, but
Werth grounds into a DP. I should point out (for my own reference) that the Dodgers are on my list of favourite teams, but my ties to the Phillies make this a no-brainer. I lived in Philadelphia not so long ago and was a regular at Citizen's Bank Park, which I came to think of as my second home (partly because the bathroom ceiling caved in in my first home).
Top of the second: While we on the subject of lookalikes (c.f. Hamels/Fonda), as I've said before, Joe Torre is a dead ringer for Kevin's dad in The Wonder Years. Also, and this is a weird one, Manny Ramirez has always reminded me of London Mayor, Boris Johnson. Perhaps they are related. Decide for yourselves:
Manny
Bozza
I am quite serious about this. Their mannerisms are identical, except that Bozza is not a surefire Hall of Famer. Though if he ever played baseball, he'd definitely be a slugger.
DODGERS 1-0 PHILS
Bottom of the first: I have been torn about what to wear for tonight's encounter. My plan, obviously, was to don one of my Phillies tees - probo the blue Utley 22. Instead, for fear of hexing things somehow by stripping naked, I've stuck with the navy Villanova tee I've been wearing all day. I figure it should do the same (good or bad). Earlier today, several rabbit droppings crept into my sock and I squelched them under my foot. This information is not relevant to the game, but I figured I should get it in while I can. Derek Lowe on the mound for LA. I'm a big fan, but pleased as Utley (who is in a bit of a slump, and from now on will simply be referred to as Chase) gets a base hit.
DODGERS 1-0 PHILS
Top of the first: Hamels already in the soup. Ethier doubles, Manny doubles, Dodgers on the board. Hamels looks like a young Peter Fonda. A moot point, in that he is unlikely to look like an old Peter Fonda.
PRE-GAME: Rather than sit here by my lonesome, I thought I'd share the love, from my bed, in which either a spider bit me or a wasp stung me last night. Yes, my love life is really that wild.
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