September 19, 2006

Last night's game made me sick

I've never seen anything like it in all my years of watching beisbol games. (not even with glasses on) I mean come on- the Dodgers hit four, (count 'em) 4 home runs in the ninth inning. I am talking back to back to back to back home runs. 4 in a row. I left The San Diego music awrds show in time to catch the last 5 innings of the game. I drove straight to a Mexican restaurant that was showing it and ordered a couple of chile rellenos and a glass of tea. I was cheering loudly and whooping and holllering into the bottom of the ninth inning because The Padres had a commanding 9 to 5 lead. Then lightening struck. As I watched the Dodgers tie the game iI wanted to throw my chair through the window. Then The Padres came back to score a run in the 10th and take a 10 to 9 lead only to squander it once again by giving up another round trippper in the bottom of the 10th to Nomar. A two run shot that killed us. My Dad is in Halifax Nova Scotia and I don't even want to call him. He will be laughing so hard and jumping up and down and I can't bear to hear it. I felt as though a stake was driven through my heart. This game is built to break your heart.

My friend Tim Flannery (the play by play announcer for The Padres) called me at the beginning of the season this year and left a message on my answering machine. In it he describes how a I pitch a no-hitter in the big leagues for the Pads. It hearkens back to better days. I listened to it last night all alone at 3 in the morning when I couldn't sleep because of illness and it almost made me smile. I would like to share it with you.


The padres have never had a no-hitter so it's fun to pretend that I threw the first and have our play by play guy call it. It still doesn't get rid of the sick feeing I have in my stomach today. I'll be at the game tonight. There's always tonight. There are only 13 games left in the regular season.
Somebody send me some crisis counseling type people.
yours is crisis,

Posted by steve at September 19, 2006 8:48 AM


at 10:44 pm i acturally said out loud: Poltz is breaking a chair. : )

Posted by: melissalee at September 19, 2006 9:28 AM

Think of something funny... like...when Jim hid Dwight's desk in the men's restroom on the television show, The Office.

Posted by: Spring at September 19, 2006 9:32 AM

You poor beleaguered soul. As we watch the Tigers bob and weave and slump and err, we feel your pain.

I think if you cross your fingers in eagle pose and hold the position for 3 minutes without falling oot, they will win tonight.

Posted by: Dana at September 19, 2006 10:16 AM

LOL!! I like the picture edit!!

Posted by: Dana at September 19, 2006 10:18 AM

I could not watch the end of the game; I was pacing back and forth in the living room, crying my eyes out. My mother called, she was crying too. I yelled at her to get off the phone, I said I couldn’t talk to her now it was too much and that I knew Steve would be out there somewhere in need of help, so I was praying for you too. She said bull shit on Steve, take care of Lee! Lee was in the bedroom watching the god dam football game – how could I go near that???

As for the 3 AM thing, it wasn't the ball game, it was those Chile Rellenos – if I didn’t cook them, then it will happen every time! I want to cook you some tacos, enchiladas, chile rellenos, burros de asada, quacamole, frijoles y arroz. Quando mi hijo? Quando?

Posted by: SAS at September 19, 2006 11:39 AM

it was a dark stormy night, and the rain rattled on as the baby goat passed another frightened baah'd from the corner.

i need the power of youth as a witness, not a sacrifice. the doll was a poor effigy, but it would do. all dodgers look alike. i turned it slowly over in the open pit, the energy from my wrist feeding the curse i set upon 'dem bums. the flames licked around the figure, burning the enemy's vigor and pride as the slow roast was comes to an end. a few soft words, a passerby wouldn't even have paused to notice their roots were in sorcery, and i was done. finally. they were cooked. the season was ours, three outs to go.

the magic has taken much from me, i am too tired to stay awake. i feel a slight shiver, have i made a mistake? no, i can rest easy now, and dream of victory.

my dreams are troubled, and i wake early, too early, something is wrong. i look around, i feel the unnatural heat and become alarmed. before i read the score, i know the truth. i can feel it, the sunlight of my spirit, torched by the firestorms of hell, drawn from Satan's vortex, Chavez Ravine. the remnants of a counter-curse mist through the air.

in the corner a baby goat lays forever still.

Posted by: john kruk at September 19, 2006 1:07 PM

you guys are awesome. i feel just a little bit better already.
oh no- here it comes again that funny feeling.

Posted by: steverino at September 19, 2006 1:37 PM

oh fran,
you are NOT alone. i got one of those funny feelings last night in half tortoise pose. my belly was so very turbulent and i truly thought i might just see the carne asade i sooo joyously ingested HOURS before one more time. it was like a scene from a jackie chan movie in my belly. i came out of the pose wondering "what the hell?!" and then burst into laughter when i caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. my face was red, my eyes were bouncing around in ALL different directions and i had a band-aid stuck to my forehead! it was ludicrous! i bet it was THEN that the pads fell through the final hole into the post-pads-pardem-poltz abyss.....

it's all connected fran...your chair-throwing tendency, my gastrointestinal disturbance, the pads, jackie chan, john davidson, michael jackson, mickey mouse, and hope and michael.

keep that chin up! after ARE a VIKING, dammit!

Posted by: cathy lee at September 19, 2006 2:03 PM

Revel in the pain. This is why baseball is more like life imitating life than society's current grand old game, football.

In football, there is massive build-up of anticipation, then the game, the ecstasy/agony of the win/loss, and the interminable week off until the next one.

Imagine sex just once per week! (If that's an upgrade for you, never mind....)

With baseball, multi-orgasms and cardiac arrest occured last night...and there is ANOTHER game tonight.

TONIGHT becomes the latest "most important game of the season" and therein lies the beauty of baseball.

Isn't this the most important day of your life since yesterday is already in the rear view mirror and we have no guarantees in writing that we will see the next sunrise?

Revel in the ride, baby, cuz it's a helluva lot of fun!

Posted by: Rob MacKnight at September 19, 2006 2:44 PM

well said, my friend rob.
well said.
i will be there tonight.
oh yes i will

Posted by: steverino at September 19, 2006 2:50 PM

Rock on Rob!! That was fab crab.

Posted by: tussy at September 19, 2006 3:08 PM

Aw, chin up! Don't feel so bad about it.
If you want anything, ask me and I'll do it.

Posted by: Anny at September 19, 2006 5:37 PM

Well.. at least you're looking intellectual, eh?
A tortured intellectual... brilliant!

Posted by: tori at September 19, 2006 7:19 PM


Posted by: jamie the cat guy at September 19, 2006 8:37 PM

Time heals all wounds. It's just a bad dream, what will you wake to? A bigger picture?

Posted by: The Book of Padre Wisdom at September 19, 2006 10:57 PM

the book of padre wisdom?
i love it.
where can i purchase it?

Posted by: steverino at September 20, 2006 12:52 AM

Ummm. Go Astros!

Posted by: Donna at September 20, 2006 10:26 PM

Donna, you must be one great dame to throw a "go ASS-tros" in there. Are the ASS-tros still in the league? Did Big Daddy Clemens work out for your twig-swinging, anemic ASS-tros?

Donna, how about the beauty of Kevin Brown blowing away 16 ASS-tros in the playoffs, then The King homering off store-bought Randy Johnson at the Q to mercifully end the ASS-tros season?

Donna, thanks to your balsa wood flailing offense for putting together the worst showing of all-time against the White Sox last fall. Have they fouled one off yet?

Truly, I respect the heck out of you for having the gumption to even bring up your beloved ASS-tros here. As feeble as a newborn lamb, them ASS-tros are...ugh!

YOU, my dear, must be awesome, because your loyalty for those 89 lb. weaklings is admirable.

(Are you hoping to one day be an Admiral?)

Posted by: Rob MacKnight at September 22, 2006 5:12 PM


Two out shy! Fargh!

Posted by: Westy at September 22, 2006 10:35 PM

I'm so sorry for your loss.

Posted by: Dhruva at September 28, 2006 8:24 PM

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