Konnichiwa Syndicate Members,
Blessings and peace be upon the Japs. That’s how one dismantles a bunch of Dutch pretenders! Arigato, my friends! Upon the completion of this syndicate, it looks to be a rather swamped “off-season” for your overburdened Shadow Scholar. He’ll literally have hundreds of pages of Retroactive Notes to write. Why even bother with such mundane endeavors? Looking back on what one has written affords one the invaluable opportunity to ruminate on what a know-nothing-jackass you’ve been. For the most part, such projects count as intriguing, amusing, and enjoyable. In other instances, they strike painful internal chords deep within one’s soul.
Nevertheless on must periodically throw a glance back at
one’s insipidly disappointing self. Take what I scribed last night for example.
After re-reading it, I’ve already encountered the breakthrough revelation that
my body harbored at least twenty pounds of a piss/vinegar like bile. Sorry to
spew it all over you. So it goes sometimes.
Well…it’s happened again. You innocently blinked and another
two groups are complete. Perhaps more significantly, a date for the Papal
Conclave has been chosen. Before getting you caught up on the twelve games
played in Pool D, do allow me to reassure all syndicate members that WE WILL
PRODUCE ODDS on the Papal ascension. The Cardinals are scheduled to convene on
Tuesday. While the duration of such conclaves varied historically, the
modern-day church will not allow for a prolonged embarrassment. It’s thus
absolutely guaranteed that we will greet the new papa on the balcony no later
than Wednesday evening. Theoretically the Cardinals can take as long as they
like. The rules even specifically proscribe that every fourth day of the
conclave should be reserved for prayer and rest.
Mark my words. White Smoke will waft out of the Basilica
within 48 hours of the onset of the conclave. The aged cardinals won’t do
anything more rapidly or expediently for the rest of their lives. St. Peter’s
latest successor is due to arrive Wednesday evening, or afternoon if you’re
currently residing in the States. That means….yawn…your friendly bookie has
some odds to set. Embedded within one the next two installments, we’ll proudly
present a very special edition of the syndicate: “Conclave 2013—Jesus on the
Moneyline”. Yawn….though his Kingdom may never come, God’s Will must be done.
For his is the kingdom, the power, and…er…the third part of the doxology. “The
Glory”!! There we are. Fuck am I tried. C’mon vacation!
So, without further ado, Let’s get you caught up:
Pool C—Hiram Bithorn Stadium, San Juan
Isn’t that cool? The Puerto Ricans actually rejected the
proposal to name their beloved national stadium after a bank charging 16.5%
interest rates on their credit card! Instead, they named this cozy little venue
after the first Puerto Rican to play in the U.S. Major Leagues. I could tear up
John-Boehner-style right about now. Sniff. Makes one miss old “Veterans
Stadium” in Philadelphia. Taxpayers mostly financed the stadium, so they opted to
name it after the war vets who paid said taxes. These days every professional
sports stadium remains mostly financed by taxpayers, but banks are simply more
important. Sorry everyone. That’s just the way it is.
But I digress. The Dominicans wasted not a precious
nanosecond. Yankee’s name-brand superstar Robinson Can combined with Nelson
Cruz of Texas Rangers fame to drive in three runs in the Bottom of the First.
Cano replicated his feat with another RBI in the next frame. Edwin Encarnacion
lifted a Sac Fly for the 5-0 lead. After an unconvincing rally from the
Venezuelans, Hanley Ramirez and Alessandro De Aza went ahead and put this one
to bed. Even though he was likely unconscious, completely non-lucid, and
breathing through a trachea tube, one may entertain the fantasy that this was
the last ballgame Hugo Chavez ever witnessed.
The next day brought a surprisingly stolid performance from
the Spaniards. After a disastrous First Inning, the unattached Sergio Perez
recovered nicely to hurl a scoreless second. His performance appears to have
inspired the rest of the Spanish Staff. Ricardo Salazar, Eric Gonzalez, and
Ricardo Hernandez all combined to keep the feisty Puerto Ricans off the board
for the remainder of the encounters. A Three-Run First would be it for the
scoring. Spanish Pride kept matters under control.
Honestly, the Spanish didn’t do too badly on Saturday
either. The Dominicans may have dominated the entire game, but they managed to
engineer an exciting ninth-inning rally that featured plenty of bases-loaded
payoff pitches. The while affair lasted nearly twenty minutes. Even the most
hardened skeptics will have to concede that they thy almost believed in the
Spanish for at least one of those minutes.
After that, the Puerto Ricans showed absolutely no mercy to
the grieving Venezuelans. They responded to their positively flukish two earned
runs in the Bottom of Third with their own unorthodox double-run play in the
Top of the Fourth. One had the sense that, had Yadier Molina not been tagged out
at the plate, the game would have been broken wide open. No matter. Angel Magan
capped a skillful bit of diamond moving with a fifth inning RBI to claim the
lead. Luis Figueroa followed up Mike Aviles’s Sac Fly with a two-run double.
The game was over then, even after some Bottom of the Ninth teasing by Chavez’s
Chaps.
The Venezuelans certainly earned their consolation prize
when they finally delivered the whipping we all expected the Spanish would
receive. 11-6 was the final score this afternoon. It all came to an end this
evening, with the Dominicans stringing out a methodical victory against the
already qualified Puerto Ricans.
Your final standings, along with the future implications for
2017 read as follows.
1) Dominican Republic (qualifies for quarterfinals and 2017
WBC)
2) Puerto Rico (qualifies for quarterfinals and 2017 WBC)
3) Venezuela (eliminated, yet qualifies for 2017 WBC)
4) Spain (eliminated, must still qualify for 2017 WBC)
Pool D—Chase Field, Phoenix and Salt River, Scottsdale
Six eminently entertaining games took place under the
Arizona Sun. The Wops won in dramatic fashion in Thursday evening’s group
opener. South Carolina’s own John Mariotti took the mound for the “team of
misguided American males who wish to play identity politics”. He was thoroughly
pummeled and I was happy. Nothing like watching a dumb Wop fail. The Spicks
responded to a two-run Italian First by putting up three in their half of the
frame. They added a cushion one inning later.
Illinois native
and Minnesota catching prospect Drew Butera pulled the Dagos even with a
spectacular two-run homer in fourth, but the Wetbacks once again proved
resilient, restoring the lead thanks to a clutch 2-out-RBI from Ramiro Pena in
5th. Then came the dreaded Top of the Ninth, when potential future
Cubs First Baseman Anthony Rizzo doubled to deep left, scoring two other
American born Guineas for the late lead. Fuck me. I hadn’t been that frustrated
by a last-minute decision since Ratzinger emerged from the behind the white
smoke back in 2005. Grrr…I’ll get my money back, Wops. Just you wait.
Matters got even more discouraging the next afternoon when
this Motley Crew of self-centered bastards walloped the Canadians 14-4 in a
slugfest cut short by WBC Mercy Rules. Chris Colabello…of Framingham,
Massachusetts…drove in three with a first inning homer. Colabello would go on
to go 4-for-5 in this disconcerting rout. Rizzo, Liddi, Costanzo, Punto,
Denorfia, Butero, and…fuck it…practically the entire starting lineup drove in
more runs until a five-run eighth brought this debacle to the “Slaughter Rule”.
Ugh. Enjoy it while it lasts, you greasy mopes.
Finally…it was time for the U.S. to debut. Surely they could
wash the unfortunate taste of Prideful Pasta out of our mouths!?!? Christ did
we ever flop. Nearly 45,000 U.S. fans filed into the stands at Chase Field
hoping to watch a ballgame. Hopefully they at least got a chance to take in the
purportedly unrivalled sightlines in the Diamondback Lair….for there wasn’t any
ballgame to be witnessed. In spite of some uncharacteristically solid leadoff
work from J-Roll, no one could bring him home. Brandon Phillips went 0-for-4.
The entire bottom third of the order failed to register a hit….this, mind you,
was WITH a DH. We stranded eight runners and went a woeful 2-for-13 with
runners in scoring position. R.A. Dickey’s lousy initial four didn’t help
either. Ugh.
Over 44,000 disappointed fans wouldn’t be burned twice.
Subsequent attendance numbers for U.S. Games read 19,303 and 22,425 respectively.
Our boys would atone for their belly flop on Saturday evening. First we were
treated to a ludicrously fucked up match during which the Canadians somehow
managed to spank the Mexicans 10-3. Seriously. WHAT? What the
Maple-Syrup-snorting fuck happened here? I remain remiss. Evidently Justin
Morneau really is all that. He drove in three runs. Michael Saunders added
FIVE. The two major league jewels of Canadian baseball really came through.
Wow. I’m prepared to retract every last snarky comment I’ve made about Canadian
Baseball up to this point. A splendid performance.
Redemption for Uncle Sam arrived in a fitting fashion. The
Italians jumped out to an early lead as Ryan Vogelsong overcame some big stage
jitters. Respective reasons for those first two tallies included a wild pitch
and cutter that somehow came in like an off-speed pitch. The U.S. Finally got
on the board in the Top of the 4th, when Joe Mauer elected to show
up and pull an ultra-sweet double to left. It proved enough to wave around Ryan
Braun all the way from first. Beautiful. There existed life in us yet.
Of course, the real fireworks came in the fifth. Brandon
Phillips produced a “Texas Leaker”. Some ambitious base running by Adam Jones
led to the wave around. He scored comfortably after the relay was cut off. We
were all tied up, thanks to hustle and smart third base coaching. Hell Yes. A
team can manufacture runs….or they can just hit it out of the park. Two batters
later, the bags were all loaded up for New York Mets Third Baseman David
Wright. Damned if he didn’t smack a 1-2 changeup all the way to the center left
bleachers for a spectacular Grand Slam.
Oh it was gorgeous. The play-by-play announcers went nuts.
The crowd went far beyond “Girls Gone Wild”. The flags flew. The songs started.
What a wonderful moment to be an American. The “Real” American Spirit triumphed
over Italian-American hubris. My eyes welled up. You should have been there.
All of you should have been there. At least 20,000 more fans should have been
there.
In hindsight, we shouldn’t have been surprised that Wright
came through. He’s got a .348 lifetime RISP Average. If you don’t know what
that means….well…you’re not a “Real” American. Hell with you. Following the
Fifth Inning theatrics, Torre made all the right moves. There’s so many good
reasons that he was the only one who could have presided over that Yankee
Dynasty. Ross Detwiler closed us out with four innings of scoreless ball. Great
defensive effort from all the boys on the field too.
There remains but one game to discuss, and that one took
place this afternoon. We rolled on past the upstart Canadians in convincing
fashion. Once again we fell behind early. Matt Saunders roped a dinger off of
Derek Holland to make us reach for our antacids. Thankfully, we tied matters up
with two fourth inning runs too complicated to explain. We fell behind again,
but Adam Jones delivered an equalizer once more. Then Shane Victorino AT LAST
opted to join the party. To put matters beyond any doubt, we put up three in
the eighth and four in the ninth. Gentlemen, I do believe we’re on the march.
Stay tuned.
Your final standings, along with the future implications for
2017 read as follows.
1) USA (qualifies for quarterfinals and 2017 WBC)
2) Italy (qualifies for quarterfinals and 2017 WBC)
3) Canada (eliminated, yet qualifies for 2017 WBC)
4) Mexico (eliminated, must still qualify for 2017 WBC)
Yes…it’s finally that time. Let’s rock the line for
tomorrow’s game.
My Updated Stats
Spread: 8-18-2
Straight up: 16-10-2
Hittin’ off the fairway, headed back towards a .500 spread
record for the first time in years.
Cuba vs. Netherlands
(Yadier Pedroso vs. Shairon Martis)
We have our first rematch! The Dutch upset the Cubans 6-2 a
mere three days ago. All signs point to a poignant Cuban response. It cannot be
ignored, however, that Holland Manager Hensley Meulens has carefully (some
might say ingeniously) conformed to the rules of the classic and rested his ace
accordingly. With Martis on the mound, anything’s possible. I invite you to
ponder that when faced with this low line.
THE
LINE: Cuba +2 Runs
GENTLEMEN,
ENTER YOUR WAGERS
