Sometimes it's zero, sometimes it's one. Tonight, thanks to Cust's 9th inning "shutout buster" off of John Lackey it was one. The A's problem right now is that they have no sense of comedy. It's not funny to bat Bobby Crosby second and Emil Brown cleanup, it's tragic.
What would be funny would be sending one of them up holding the bat from the wrong end, because really why not? Or better yet, letting Crosby try to hit with a red and white cane, because even a blind man can react to the last pitch and decide whether or not to swing based on whether the previous pitch was a strike. Send Hannahan up there with a rubber chicken, let Patterson hit in a tight satin dress.
Ah, but I undress...Greg Smith does not have much margin for error and in the bottom of the third he left everything up, culminating with my dinner when the Angels put up a four-spot and gave Lackey more than enough to cruise to victory. The outcome was not surprising as in the franchise's history the A's have never won the second game of a series, including their time in Kansas City and Philadelphia. That might be a slight exaggeration, but I can't look it up as after drinking just enough to numb the pain of each loss since July 12th I currently have vision somewhere between that of Jack Cust after sleeping on his eye and that of Dan Johnson after being viciously attacked by SPF-30.
You know, we could really use some offense.
