Far Out, Brotha

Whassapenin, people?  Friendly Fred comin’ at ya straight from Bed 6 with the far-out dice rolls today, thanks to Old Sherman fallin asleep with the things in his dusty paw last night.  I didn’t check into this jive hospital joint because of my swipin skills, more for what I did with them matchbooks, but when a man’s too much of a fool to take care of his stash, how can a righteous cat like myself not snap some of that up?

And it is the day for this, brotha, the day.  Because the Yanks and My Man Reggie are hittin’ that creaky-ass ballpark with the not-so-friendly-to-my-people reputation up in Boston, and I do believe we are gonna make their skid row of a pitching staff spill down a gutter, because that’s what the Bombers do to chumps every time, baby.

My grandpa used to see the Yanks in the early 60s when they won every year, and sat way out in the left-center bleachers at the Stadium above the dead Yankee graveyard where even binoculars didn’t do shit,  and I been catchin em in the paper here a good ten years and it killed me that I didn’t watch em take the muthafuggin Phils last year, it killed me.  (‘Scuse the language, brothas, but I just don’t like to say the real badass version of that word cause it’s offensive to my mama and all the other muthafuggin mamas out there.)  So backin up, this dice trip oughta be the absolute shizz, if I can just throw these puppies the right way here…

Game of the Day

BOSTON—Damn!  There ain’t one brotha IN this place!  Guess you can’t expect fuggin miracles when the first black man you put on the field is named Pumpsie Green.  Looks like chubby little Looie Tiant’s whippin it for the Sox, but we got The Catfish, who just about perfect-gamed Baltimore his first time out.

And here’s My Man Mickey Rivers, smackin one in the bullpen with one out in the 1st!  I do see a bunch of New York college fools here, and they’re makin more noise than me, but shit—Bernie Carbo hits the Cat’s first pitch outta sight and it’s tied 1-1.

It stays like this till the 4th,when Thurman bangs a double off the Green Muthafugga and My Man Reggie bombs his third of the year into the bleachers!  3-1 Yanks!  Reg flashes me a peace sign going back in the dugout, I know he does!

Nobody tells me it’s Home Run Derby De-lite Night, though.  ‘Cause here’s Butch Whiff-Boy Hobson puttin one in the net in the 5th to make it 3-2, and after Bureson, Doyle and Carbo all get on base, Fisk sticks his fat butt out there, takes a pitch on it, and the score’s tied again.

Then it’s that ancient dude with the long name I gave up on trying to pro-nounce a long time ago.  Yazzamatazz or whatever creams a Catfish ball high and deep and over the bullpens for a grand slam, brothas, and I’m just a puddle of big-ass hurt sittin here.  7-3 them now.

But just wait a good god second.  My Man Mickey singles, My Almost-Man Munson homers and it’s 7-5 in the 6th!  Tidrow’s taken over on the mountain, but Yazzamatazz takes care of him too with another jive missle into the bleachers, and after a Rice walk and Rick Miller triple that’s the final crud right there.  Chambliss triples to start the 9th, but Looie smokes Piniella, then My Man Willie Randolph, then gets pinch-hitter Alston on a pop out and ain’t that a bitch.

Twenty hits in the game, 13 of them extra base ones.  It’s Torrez against Paxton tomorrow, and I’m puttin these dice-bones somewhere dark and cold tonight, cause I am countin on some tasty revenge.  See you on the flip side!

NYY 100 202 000 – 5  9  0
BOS 100 060 20x – 9 11 0

W-Tiant  L-Hunter  HRS: Rivers, Jackson, Munson, Carbo, Hobson, Yaz-2 GWRBI-Yaz

INDIANS 5-6-0, at ORIOLES 4-11-1
Not fair.  Not fair at all.  Birds whack out eleven hits, almost twice as many, and still lose.  It ain’t how much you do, it’s when the hell you do it.

W-Bibby  L-Martinez  SV-Kern  GWRBI-Norris

at ROYALS 3-7-0, WHITE SOX 2-7-2
Tight, baby, tight.  Chitown Boys get two doubles and a walk in the 9th but Mingori squiggles loose and K.C.’s back on top of the league.

W-Colborn  L-Kravec  SV-Mingori  HR-Gamble GWRBI-Cowens

at RANGERS 10-14-1, TWINS 8-15-1
Say what?  The Twins hired themselves some kind of demon doctor?  Fire the muthafugga!!  A first class fool named Ken Henderson, hitting ninth for Texas cause he has one sorry-ass wasteland on the left side of his card, puts three homers out of the park on cheesy-fry 1-7 rolls!  You call that exorcising?  Carew gets four more hits, is up to .513, and it ain’t doin them a damn piece of good.  Hell, I can’t even talk about these guys, it’s bad luck.

W-Perry  L-Zahn  HRS: Henderson-3, Campaneris  GWRBI-My Man Claudell W.

PHILLIES 9-13-1, at REDS 1-7-0
About time my Philly brothas set their clocks for the right time.  Fred Norman’s got nuthin and gets his butt tossed for plunkin Jerry Martin after a Davey Johnson homer, while Jimmy Lonborg pitches mighty fine.

W-Lonborg  L-Norman  HR-Johnson  GWRBI-Lonborg (and 3 others!)

CARDS 14-17-2, at CUBS 5-13-2
Yow!  The other so-called rivalry ain’t exactly off to any kind of rivalrous start.  Denny’s downright bogus but Krukow makes him look like Gibson out there.  The Krook has now give up 13 runs and 20 hits in 11 innings.

W-Denny  L-Krukow  HRS: Simmons, McBride, Reitz, Templeton

DODGERS 15-15-1, at ASTROS 5-7-4
At least old Sherman should be whistlin in the morning.  Reggie Smith with a grand slam early, and Tommy John gets the first 13 ‘Stros before Cliff Johnson takes him out.  Just plain skanky all around.

W-John  L-Andujar  HRS:  Smith, Johnson, Cabell

American League through Wednesday, April 23

Kansas City 7 2 .778
Chicago 6 3 .667 1
Cleveland 6 4 .600 1.5
New York 5 4 .556 2
Baltimore 4 5 .444 3
Texas 4 5 .444 3
Boston 4 6 .400 3.5
Minnesota 1 8 .111 6

National League through Wednesday, April 23

Montreal 5 2 .714
Pittsburgh 5 4 .556 1
Los Angeles 5 4 .556 1
Cincinnati 4 4 .500 1.5
Houston 5 5 .500 1.5
St. Louis 5 5 .500 1.5
Chicago 4 5 .500 2
Philadelphia 2 6 .250 3.5

1 Comment

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One response to “Far Out, Brotha

  1. xatsmann

    Phils are finally coming around…I can’t wait for Schmidt and Luzinski to wake up and start pounding those taters!

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