“I've been waiting to say this to you for a long time. … Deep down in my stomach, with every inch of me, I pure, straight hate you. … But goddamn it do I respect you.” — Wes Mantooth.
In other words: Nice game, Smoltz [1].
If the Braves lost today, they would have been 10 out. Sure, only May, and Atlanta has a habit of snoozing until summer and then laying waste to the league. But still, one imagines there would have been a hint of panic in the air — double-digits behind a team that doesn't appear in the least bit scared of the Braves anymore? So could Smoltz step up? Three hits over six innings. On three days' rest. Yeah, he could step up.
Still, while the brooms didn't get to wave, we all feel like it would be an excellent idea to hide our five starting pitchers (whoever they may be at the moment) in an armored car and we discovered we actually can hate Angel Hernandez more than we already did, not a bad weekend of baseball: Did we really think we'd take two out of three with Trachsel, Zambrano and TBD pitching? And while that certainly wasn't the way even the most rabid Zambrano detractor wanted to see his Met career end, we did witness what I bet was Kaz Matsui's Beltran Moment and saw definite progress (however scary it might have been) from Jorge Julio, who could wind up in a lot more critical role for us when the pitching gets sorted out.
So. A much-needed off-day, and then it's time to fix the Phillies' wagon. If there's a hole in Ryan Howard's swing, Pedro and Glavine will find it. Homecoming of sorts for Billy Wagner. Pat the Bat, inevitably. The oddity of a Phillies game without a Vince Piazza sighting or talk of Mike growing up in Norristown. Those close fences whispering to Beltran and Wright and Delgado and Floyd. Third base whispering to Reyes after he rifles one up one of those deep alleys. Should be fun.