Game 100: A's @ New York Yankees - Meanwhile...

Sometimes, you don't get to punch the bully in the throat. Sometimes, the story ends where the bully just continues to hold you down, beating you unmercifully. Alas, last night our George Michael was pummeled by the Bronx Steve Holt [STEVE HOLT!]. They beat up Trevor, took his lunch money, broke his Star Wars Legos and threw them into the creek. Seventeen to seven is a bad football game, not a good baseball one.

Like an unsuspecting puppy, however, the A's once again rise and shine this morning to once again wag in the face of almost certain animal abuse. Someone needs to call the ASPCA, especially on Jorge Posada [JORGE POSADA!].

The A's send a broken but sexy Rich Harden out to what will almost certainly be the end of his career. Surely Derek Jeter [DEREK JETER!] will cause Rich to get an oblique strain simply by the power of his mind. Derek Jeter moves in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform. It's the virtual equivalent of sending Harden to his doom. No way he wins against the Yankees, the all-powerful, all-knowing Yankees.

Meanwhile, back at the Hall of Justice...

Seventy-four year-old AJ Burnett [AJ BURNETT!] will start for the Yankees. But let's face it. The Yankees could send out the grounds crew and based on mystique and the pinstripes, they would win against the A's, 9-3. Burnett's book-ended the ASB with no-decisions versus the Rays, both games which the Yankees eeked out 5-4 wins in both contests. Why? Because they're the Yankees and you suck. AJ has had a nasty habit of walking a lot of people this season, so there is that.

Um, meanwhile, I'm not sure if Harden's supposed to be The Scarecrow or that yellow dude that's Green Lantern's nemesis [RYAN REYNOLDS!]. But regardless of which Hall of Doom celebrity Harden is, I think we can all agree that our Honeycomb Hideout is much, much cooler than theirs.

First off, it's set in some completely random swamp, most likely in Louisiana or Florida. Plus, it completely submerges! Scoring big points with indie kids. Meanwhile, back at the Hall of Justice...let's face it: the Hall of Justice looks like it's set between the Public Library and a Quizno's. Sure, access is better. They're clearly in the city and can go eat at Babbo, but do you really think Batali's gonna serve a space monkey? [GLEEK!] At frickin' Babbo?! C'mon. Mario wouldn't even serve Mo Rocca unless he referred to him at all times as Mr. Batali and took a solemn oath not to stare at Anne Burrell's calves.

[by the way, I love how the voice-over guy says "their space monkey, Gleek" all matter-of-factly, like everyone has a space monkey; <Sure, me and Marge got one in Atlantic City last June. Ain't no big whoop. A frickin' Space Monkey. What? You ain't got one?>]

So, there it is. No way our little Legion of Doom can defeat the big bad Justice League, especially with Jeter and his big S on his chest. But we're gonna try anyhow. How about that, AN?

Lineups, via Baseball Press:

Get breakfast going. It's game number one hundred and we gotta get going early this morning. Like my Dad used to say [before he died. It was the Yankees that killed him], if we had some bacon, we could have bacon and eggs, if we had any eggs. Fricking Yankees probably took the GD eggs, too. Pinstriped bastards.