Dear Uncle Mike,
Base hit, please.
As you wish.
Walk! Bregman has a chance to be the man.
Come on Alex!
Loud F bomb
Dammit
Sad trombone
Gut. Punched.
Damn, damn, damn!
Jesus Fucking Christ. Got a fat one to drive and he didn’t get it square. That was begging to be a grand slam.
The 9th was basically a microcosm of this series so far.
All sizzle, very little steak.
Off a guy who was fucking throwing PUS.
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we’ll get em when we get back to Houston
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I hope we move to the first base dugout tomorrow.
Leaving the bases loaded was the perfect ending to that shitfest.
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I’ve had enough of these balls hit hard but right at Rays in these first two games.
We scared em guys. Scared em good
Maybe our instructions were confusing:
Hit.
Where.
They.
Ain’t.
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Yeah. They’re shaking in their spikes.
Is that supposed to make it better?
No, I think it makes it feel worse.
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