Oliver Perez was reborn Saturday as a control freak. May he remain obsessive, compulsive or whatever it takes to do repeatedly what he did today.
Six and two-third innings. Two runs. Nine strikeouts. No walks.
None.
Barely any balls at all…in the literal sense, that is.
Whatever became of the human WALK sign? That fellow (41 of 73 pitches drifting every which way but over the plate on April 11) went into witness protection. This one (72 of 98 pitches delivered within the defined parameters of the strike zone) regulated traffic properly. The Braves nicked him here and there for singles and doubles, but the damage was minimal. His sluggers gave him a wide berth, but it was the meticulously trained Ollie-cum-Ali who threw the knockout punch at the Braves.
It wasn’t a Rumble in the Jungle. It was barely a Melee at Shea. But who the hell wants to lose two consecutive decisions to Atlanta in New York? Not Ollie. Not his trainer Rick who had his protégé throw all those “bullpens” (a new use for the noun, I think) since his last start a hundred years ago until he got whatever was wrong right. Not me and my 55,142 pals, minus the hundreds who always show up in Braves gear under the impression they still root for “America’s Team”.
No, it was too warm a day to ruin it with bad pitching. Perez and the pen were as pristine as they had to be. Beltran and Reyes flirted with the cycle. Ramon exploded. Damion Easley introduced his useful self. Every Brave was harassed, but Chris Woodward got an appreciative hand. I got to Shea early enough to stroll field level and purchase a salmon roll at the legendary, usually off-limits Daruma of Great Neck stand. Me and Joe broke our mutual six-game losing streak and then worked the ramps and turnstiles to efficient-commuting perfection.
Until 1:10 Sunday afternoon, who could ask for anything more?
Twenty straight strikes. That was a beautiful thing.
Perez was masterful, the Joneses stayed in the park and Joe Smith, our resident former-Cyclone has now really made a statement. We all know Andruw Jones was capable of making Perez's metamorphosis all for naught, but Mr. Smith and his appropriately roller coaster-like delivery shut him down.
Brooklyn baseball, represent.
Hi Greg,
Am jealous that you got to spend the city's first beautful, sunfilled afternoon at Shea and this time enjoyed a salmon roll instead of the disappointing Sparro Pizza.
Hope you caught the encore presentation on SNY last night because it was something to hear Ron Darling's analysis of the Perez turnabout and his non-stop marveling at Perez's performance throughout the game. Ron emphasized that the big difference was that Oliver took about 4 MPH off his fastball with the results being unbelievable. He added that with his kind of stuff, Perez could afford to take something off it. Gary Cohen could not believe this was the same pitcher we saw last time out against Philly who set a major league record for most consecutive walks and/or hit batsmen.
Oliver's command was impeccable!
So hope you caught SNY's encore and not too much of a wind burn at Shea.
I was there again with my Yankee-fan friend Pete who could only marvel at:
1 – How great my seats were;
2 – How many Braves batters started off 0-1; and
3 – How many infield popups were produced by each side
It was a great day!