Hell of a weekend, huh? Off of four-straight walkoff wins, the Phillies took their building momentum and headed to Atlanta looking to officially make shit weird for the rest of the National League. Instead, each member of the team’s 25-man roster shit-farted their pants as they got their pathetic asses broomed out of Atlanta. I’d like to say that I thought Cole Hamels and Roy Halladay would have given the Phillies lockdown efforts, but I didn’t. I’d like to say that I was genuinely surprised about a shitty defense that allowed six unearned runs, or of a limped-dick offense that managed only four runs over the course of the three-game sweep, but I wasn’t. At all. An unmotivated, old, and utterly pathetic team watched its temporarily revived playoff hopes all but officially die 60 games short of the postseason. After Sunday’s game, Halladay offered a fitting assessment of what’s happened so far in 2012.
“It’s not easy to swallow, but we’ve kind of put ourselves in this situation and sometimes you have to take it like a man.”
I’ll pass on the swallow joke and jump right to the anal sex one–if by “take it like a man” you mean get bent over and Kobe’d in the ass by every team in the National League that doesn’t have Francisco Rodriguez on its roster, then yeah, I gotta give you guys credit there. You and the rest of your $178 million sack of shit teammates have taken it in the ass like the 17-minute mark of a Sasha Grey porno.
Sure, it might be in the team’s best long-term interest that they folded now and didn’t bait Ruben Amaro Jr. into adding cargo to a sinking ship as they confirmed what we already knew–that they’re not good enough. But Sunday sucked, primarily because it’s no longer an overreaction, or panic, or pessimistic to say this season is over–it’s over. And now the Phillies get to sit and watch key teammates get dumped to contenders as they play at the string of a wasted season.
Sell, sell, sell.