Showing posts with label Jayson Werth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jayson Werth. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Nats wallop Phils again (in plain English and poetry)

 It didn't seem like a win was going to happen when the Phils went ahead 4-3 in the top of the ninth/Photo by Patricia Leslie

When you read WAPO and game summaries, do you have trouble understanding what actually happened at the Nats' baseball games?  

Do you ever think the WAPO writers are trying to outjockey T.S. Eliot, James Joyce, and William Faulkner, combined? Me, too.  

Hullo, hullo, any editors left? 

Therefore and here below in living English, mostly, (with some poetry thrown in) is what happened at Sunday's game, Nats v. Phillies.
  The ninth inning, Nats v. Phil., June 12, 2016/Photo by Patricia Leslie

It was a perfect afternoon for baseball (well, almost, depending on whether you were sitting in the shade or the sun).  

Phil fans were there, of course, in great numbers but not in the vast amount of conspirators they've been known to occupy in our quarters, ever since we took back our stadium from the upstarts.
 In the ninth the Nats straddled the fence, watching and waiting for a win /Photo by Patricia Leslie

Shadows were growing on the field towards the end of the game. It was the beginning of the ninth and we had watched the Nats' lead (3-0 before the fifth) shrink during the afternoon when the Enemy scored once in the fifth and twice in the sixth to tie the game.
  
In all their wisdom, the Nats' brought in closing pitcher Papelbomb who, yes, threw a home run in the ninth. Thanks, Pap!

(He's the one everyone hates since he tried to strangle our star player, Bryce Harper, in the dugout last year.  This is a true story. In the dugout!  Our starring guy!  Never mind a star's murder in the dugout.  Who was watching?  Oh, just everybody since it was telecast only live on TV!  Who will ever forget that?  We won't forget it, no matter how hard Nationals' management tries to make us.)
 After Werth's big hit in the bottom of the ninth, the team chased the Super Star out on the field/Photo by Patricia Leslie


Where was I? 

In the ninth at the Nats.

On Sunday it was rather disappointing, even though the Nats were having a great day, that Bryce wasn't playing. The players can't play every day.  They got to have a day off, right?  Even though it was my first game of the season.

Okay, so closer Papelbomb throws his home run in the ninth (I realize this has already been said but it bears repeating), and away the Phils go with the lead, just like that! 

We get to the bottom of the ninth with the score, 4-3We are holding out breath.  We have all watched this show before.  It happens.

  Those are Werth's hands, too, in the air thanking the heavens for a thrilling win/Photo by Patricia Leslie

When suddenly, 
Out from the dugout there came a big splash
a Star and his bat, it made my heart crash,
My son did exclaim, and he shouted for joy!
"They're bringing in Harper! He is our fast boy!"  

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But Bryce Harper, his bat, confronting the Phil,
With his big, bold hit on the bat I just knew
He raced to first base, bypassing a shoe.

Elvis had arrived!  Died, gone to heaven and come back, straight to Nats stadium.  Back from the dead!  There he was!  Mr. America!


The stands erupted in melee when Bryce came out of vacay to hit.  

Celebration!  Screams, explosions in the air. Yells, on your feet. "Everybody, clap your hands!" Clapclapclapclapclapclapclap!

 Off they march to the dugout to find the jug of Gatoraide (?) to pitch on Werth/Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Bryce got to first, and Danny Espinosa soon followed. 

We still had high hopes of beating that awful Pennsylvania team, especially since the Pennsylvania Industrials had beaten our precious Caps way back when.

Now we had a man on first and second, and Bryce was the tying run.

Ecstasy (without drugs) and no one suspected the other cool surprise which lay ahead. (Baseball is full of surprises, not all of the good kind.)

The supply of Nats pinch hitters seemed endless, and the outs were two.

As I looked at the field and was turning around,
there came the Old Man up to the mound,
He was dressed in the right colors
from his head to his toe
He got ready to deliver the last, fatal blow

His eyes - how they twinkled! his dimples how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
His face was hidden by lots of red hair

Which fell down behind him, a chill Phil nightmare


Lo and behold, I tell you the facts, the "Old Man," the savior who, in a totally independent data-driven study by three scientists, was found to bear a remarkable resemblance to Jesus Christ Superstar, comes out on the mound, to an exploding stadium, filled with standing and screaming fans heard as far away as the Washington Cathedral (confirmed by the gargoyles which hang around outside). 

His modern-day name: Jayson Werth.

The Phil pitcher took it to a full count, and 

We wheezed, and we breezed, 
and we made our pleas, please, 
to our man on the mound, 
our Hercules.

Werth breathed slowly, to match his pace. (You ever seen him walk out to position?  He is slower than Metro on a slow track day.)

We stood and watched.  
There was no time to pray. 
We heaved, and we sighed.
We wanted our way. 

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
Which showed to the nation that old men do matter
Over the tops of their heads
And exceeding arms' length,
Werth hit it and sent it beyond Phil boys' strength

Werth shot out that last pitch which skidded between second and third, and Harper and Espinosa raced home, Bryce running to home plate from third and waving his arm around and around like a wheel on a locomotive at 200 MPH, urging Espinosa to "bring it all home, boy!"  

And they did, just like that:  The Nats won, 5-4

Meanwhile, Werth was still running for his life, since Pap was chasing him with the rest of the team beyond first base into the great unknown, to screams and yells like the rest of us, Werth losing his helmet on the way.


Now, Taylor!
Now, Murphy!
Now, Ramos!
And Espie!

On, Pappy!
On, Solis!
On, Harper
And Heisey!

To the top of the wall
To the rim of the fence
Now, dash away!
Run away!
This is how to play ball!


And I heard them exclaim, 
Ere they soared outa sight,
Happy Baseball to All, 
and to All a Good Night! 

patricialesli@gmail.com


Thursday, September 4, 2014

Nats on fire, outasite, and streaking through the sky

It's time to play ball again at Nats Park/Photo by Patricia Leslie

It's a good thing the fire stations are in the vicinity of Nats Park.

That team is streakin' hot, and they are streakin' right this very minute as I write, shooting like the stars they are, coming home from Los Angeles in the nighttime sky, riding on a comet crest of hard work and determination.

Doncha think we should be there to welcome them at the airport tonight (which airport?) after their miraculous win, 8-5, in 14 innings which Manager Matt Williams said was the longest game in Nats' history, and I am so eat up with baseball this summer, I cannot believe I watch the post-game show. (Which airport?  We should be there with streamers and flags and confetti and fireworks.)

The Nats, really, are so much fun.  They are a really big show, and thank goodness they are coming home.

When the Nats defeated the Arizona Diamondbacks again (1-0) a couple of weeks ago, it was a thriller of a thriller, like an excruciatingly fantastic movie or book except we were there

It was the bottom of the ninth and the score was tied, 0 - 0, when D.C.'s own Denaaaaard Span stole another base (he is #11 this year in MLB's stolen bases), and there he stood atop second when Ren-DOAN hit a grounder over to third which Arizona caught and ripped over to first when the ball went astray, like into the dugout which meant!!!!...It meant (I learned the rule from my new friends from Nashville and Owensboro, Kentucky who came to sit with me in the rain) we got two bases which carried Denard to home plate, and just like that...ZapPow! We won another game.  (Have you ever noticed when the teams are doing great, "we" join them and they become "we"?)

YOWEE ZOWEE
Don't you love it the way Denaaard Span gets ready to bat?  He waves that bat around like a stripper waving a...whatever it is they wave around. A boa?/Photo by Patricia Leslie
 
Denard gets ready to steal another base/Photo by Patricia Leslie
 
Earlier, poor Jayson Weeeeerth lay in the dirt, which, from a distance, reminded me of a napping Golden Retriever, but no, actually it was home plate, where he hit himself in the leg (with the bat or the ball?) and collapsed and rolled over for a few seconds.  No one immediately came to his aid, and, amazingly, he stood up soon thereafter and batted away.  I thought he'd be replaced, since he put the hurt on him, but, no, that's not the way it works.  He kept at it.  Like they all have this season.  Like they did tonight...again!!!!
Poor (well, not really) Jayson Werth kneels and prays before he bats.  Not really.  He rises from the dirt after he conked his leg or his ankle or something in the Arizona game August 21. He got up and kept goin' like the Nats did tonight in L.A. Go, Nats!/Photo by Patricia Leslie
 
Jayson's got a big fan following out there beyond first base where he stands in the outfield. If you get a seat in those parts, he might even pitch with you. Bring your glove! And don't keep the ball. He stands there with his hands on his hips like he is just disgusted that a fan would keep the ball he threw.  It happens.

Jayson Werth plays pitch with the crowd beyond first base/Photo by Patricia Leslie
Jayson Werth plays pitch with the crowd beyond first base/Photo by Patricia Leslie

Why don't they have a contest about Jayson's hair? 

Come on.  Why is he growing it so long? Don't you think that big pile of red/orange might slow him down? When he is running real fast, and it's blowing in the wind, don't you think it might impede his speed? Maybe it's because he looks like Jesus he can get away with it, and he runs with the force, because he walks sooooo slowly you'd never imagine he can run fast when the time is ripe or right. 

When Jayson finally decides to cut his hair, he could sell it at auction and raise a heap big pile of dollars for Children's Hospital or his favorite charity. Just thinking.
The armed forces acknowledge the cheers and recognition bestowed upon them at every Nats game/Photo by Patricia Leslie

Never in my life have I been as enthused about baseball as this summer.  I know all the players' names and have attended six, repeat, six games this season and for sure, won't miss the Bad Braves when they come to town next week and have gathered a group of five to go with me. I hope Kimbrel is the pitcher.  That stance!  He reminds me of a bird dog. 

Anyway, I know the batting order and the positions the guys play and can identify them. This truly is a miracle.  Nashville's Bert Mathews would be proud of me.

Question:  Why do baseball players spit?  What other sport finds players spitting?  Just asking.

And then there is Soriano.  Sexy Soriano. I don't know why it turns me on so much when he rips out that shirt at the end of a game, (Prithee:  Does he do that when the Nats lose?  But Carolinda doesn't like it) but I've been a huge fan of his ever since I read that story about him in the WAPO and the steam machine.  (Prithee:  Does he take that machine on the road?  It might require its own aeroplane.)

I love the way he slooowly walks to the pitcher's mound (he and Werth could have a slow-walking contest) like he is in a space ship, and momentum is forcing him to put one foot in front of the other. Soriano never loses his cool.  Soriano soars!

You see what all you are missing...hair blowin' in the wind, slow walks, the racing presidents, throwing balls with the big guys, mustard and dogs (I took that part out), beer, steam machines, a cup or two of a cold one, wins, sex, and how about some baseball?  It's all there!

Plus, my son from the West Coast taught me the cheapest way to buy Nats tickets:  StubHub.  The price you see is the price you'll pay (no fees).  I've been an exclusive user ever since.  Easy.  Prices for the Phillies and the Braves start at $6.  Can't beat it.  What a cheap date.  (Where is George?)
Every fourth inning at the Nats home games finds a presidents' race/Photo by Patricia Leslie

I just hope our Nats shake the Bad Braves' albatross next week and run all over them.  Especially Kimbrel.  Will somebody, please, throw that guy a bone.
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patricialesli@gmail.com

 

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Nats are a cheap date

A budding bat boy ponders the meaning of baseball at the Nationals' game Friday night in Washington. "Should he bunt or hit a line drive?" Hmmmm.../Patricia Leslie

Ticket:  $5

Beer, nice and cold and a big one, too:  $5 ( at the Miller Lite bar before the first pitch)

Dog:  $2.50 with some mustard (no charge)

Now where else you gonna get in this cheap in Washington, D.C.?  With ice cold brew and a dog for dinner?

And I haven't even mentioned the game.  All I've mentioned are the eats and treats, but there was the game, too, the entertainment, the reason we came!  (Or was it?) The Nats beat San Diego 8 - 5.  The Nats are on fire now, for sure.  And the Braves lost to the Phillies.  Take that, Braves.

$5 tall iced brews drew a crowd before the first pitch Friday night at the Nationals game/Patricia Leslie


The crowd at Nationals Stadium ain't your typical Kennedy Center audience, but that's all right, Mama:  It's why we love D.C.!  So much to do and so many places to go, and you can do it without a loan at the bank, and sit back and enjoy and eat and sip and watch. My kind of place, Washington is.  Forget about those bullies up on Capitol Hill who spy on us. 

Early in the game the stands had not filled up yet, but by the fourth, about 75% of the seats were occupied, and how about this view? For a $12.50 night, not too bad/Patricia Leslie

Early in the game our boy Bryce Harper pondered...? Maybe he was thinking about Gavin Rupp, 13, a terminally ill cancer patient, who threw out the first pitch, and with whom Harper spent an hour before the game, out on the field, playing ball/Patricia Leslie

Bryce Harper later had "a swing and a miss" but batted in a run with a sacrifice fly.  Manager Davey Johnson gave Harper the rest of the weekend off.  Update:  Bryce tweeted "Play me or trade me," and he played Saturday/Patricia Leslie

Meanwhile, the empire chastises the Padres' pitcher, Andrew Cashner, after he hit Gio Gonzalez who walks to first base. "And don't let it happen again!"/Patricia Leslie
The ball is headed that way, says Adam LaRouche at bat while Jayson Werth waits in the wings/Patricia Leslie




Jayson Werth does the splitsville.  Do you like his beard?  I can't stand it.  Is he going to keep it until the Nats win the World Series?/Patricia Leslie

Jayson Werth makes a hit and takes off/Patricia Leslie

Whoops!  Another calamity among Capitol Hill chaps in the outfield/Patricia Leslie

The Nats make it to first, again!/Patricia Leslie