Clippard and Capps be good.

So, yeah... Tyler Clippard and Matt Capps have become a legit combo for preserving a lead going into the eighth inning. There's even stats and shit out there to prove it, I'm just too lazy today to find them.
No, what I needed to do here is address the name of this combo. The phrase "Clip and save" has been circling 'round the intertubes (originating here?), and while it's catchy, and sorta makes sense... I think we can do better. So, without further ado, a new moniker:

C+C Save Factory

Do you remember C+C Music Factory? Of course you do! Why? Because (a) they were awesome, and (b) you were awesome. And Awesome people listen to awesome music. So, without further ado, presenting Clip and Capps.. doing their thing.

Also... feel free to throw out these zingers at the opposing team when you know C+C Save Factory are about to come into the game:

"Uh, Oh! Here comes Clippard and Capps, better open Google maps!"

Cause, you know, their hitter will be lost up at the plate and will need... yeah, never mind.

How about:

"Incoming is Clippard and Capps, you better pray they have a mental lapse!"

That one's not too hot either, eh? Okay, fuck it... just use this:

"Good luck, buddy. Hey, is that Screech in the stands fondling your wife?"

Bruney's turn at futility

Yup, Brian Bruney walked in the winning run with the bases loaded last night to lose the game. On four pitches. Instead of writing a new post, allow me to just re-post this one from April 3, 2008. (My ninth ever post, btw.)

I feel gut punched.

Hey, Colome Bruney! See if you can hit this:


You fucking fuck!

Two things I hate in this world: The French, and walk off walks!

As those hated French would say... Le Sigh.

Worst jersey ever?

Yup, worst jersey ever.

Pretty sure this ranks close to the top on the jersey fouls list. The color commentator's name and number on a (horrible knock-off) jersey of the team he comments on (but never played for)? Yeah...

I'm just so disgusted I can't type another word.

Jim Riggleman does what he's gotta do.

Look... yesterday's game sucked. No two ways about it. I don't feel like addressing the game itself. If you want to know the outcome, here's a recap:

Had lead. Got fucked by umpire. Choked. Lost game.

There. Now, if you want to know the intricacies, here's MLB's gamer page.

The one thing I do want to address, however, is Jim Riggleman. After Jason Marquis had a ball called on him for not wiping off his hand after going to his mouth (according to home plate umpire Paul Schrieber, anyway), and then had two obvious strikes called balls by Schrieber, Riggles came out to the mound to talk to Marquis.

Only, he wasn't there to talk to Marquis. I mean, sure, he may have had some conversation with him - "See that hot blond three rows back?" "How's Pudge treating ya?" "Wanna grab some lemonade after this?"- but that wasn't his main reason for coming out. Nope, he went out to get his player's back. (Something I griped about when Many Acta was here.) You wanna dick the players on calls? Okay, fine, Jimmy can't stop that, but he sure as shit can come out and get in your face and let you know he's not gonna let you do it unnoticed. So, after Riggles stayed on the mound waaaay passed a reasonable time, Schrieber came out to tell him to head back to the dugout. That's when Riggles decided he was going to loudly discuss ball and strike calls with Marquis. And by "with Marquis" I mean "with the side of Marquis' head while pointing his mouth at Schrieber."

Riggleman gets run, and the wheels completely fall the fuck off. Nationals lose. But hey, at least we got to see this:

Wanna know what Manny Acta mailed out last night to Riggles after seeing the highlights? One copy of Tuesdays With Morrie, and a suggestion of how to handle that situation if it happened again.

"Hey, Jim. Next time, just hand Mr. Umpire this note.

After all, no one's perfect, and they've got feelings, too!"

Oh, the saliva wiping incident also brought about the best (unintentional?) dig of the season so far. While explaining what happened, Jason Marquis calls Paul Schrieber a girl. See, when asked if he had wiped off his saliva, Marquis dropped this:

"I know I wiped," Marquis said. "It's he-said, she-said type thing."

 Ha-ha, Paul! Marquis said you sit down to pee! *Snicker*

Matty Capps comes up L.A.R.G.E.

...And I'm not just talking about his head, either. Sure, he does have a giant sized cranium, but he also grabbed his first save for the Nationals last night in a pressure situation. He came into the game in the top of the ninth, nursing a one run lead. Sure, he didn't exactly breeze through the inning, giving up a lead off double then walking Ryan Howard. But he was able to get a line drive out to Nyjer (in which the tying run tagged and went to third) and a shallow fly ball out to Willie in left. He then got out number three by getting that laid back, surely marijuana smoking, hang loose kid Victorino to pop out to Goozy to end the game.

And with that, I waited with baited breath. I've written in the past how Capps takes some of the worst celebratory photos in the history of sports, and wanted his first Washington winning moment to be nothing short of oozing machismo...



....GAH!

Yup, Matty. You still got it, bro.

Tonight we go to New York to play the Mets. On the bump for us is Scott Olsen, who won a starter spo...

Wait, what?

Oh, for fucks sake, Riggleman. Glad I'll be at a bar to watch this one tonight, as I like to be in arms reach of liquor at all times with Mock on the mound. Hey, kids... want to commit suicide? Play the Garrett Mock drinking game! Take a shot for every walk he issues, every time he passes ten pitches (i.e. when his pitch count reaches 10, 20, 30, etc.), and every coaching visit, and do two shots for every wild pitch. You'll be on the floor in three innings, and dead in five. (And if anyone asks, blame it on Kevin Reiss. Hell, I stole the idea from him.)

The more things change...

Despite only having three members of last year's bullpen back, it didn't take long for the same ol' shit to happen.

So, as a service to you, I'm uploading two pictures that will be applicable all season. Feel free to use at your leisure.

And, in case you didn't think the rest of the league notices us trotting out Miguel FUCKING Batista into a game, this direct message happened to pop in towards the end of the game:

 You know what, Joel? I do. Not only could you have hurt a Phillie with a wild pitch or two, but I saw Bergmann drinking a sugar-free Red Bull. Seriously? You decide to put all that shit in your body, but you stop short of the sugar, Jason? Maybe the sugar could have given you a little more giddy up on your fastball so that Polanco couldn't take you deep....

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Goddamn... that made me laugh. Na, just kidding, Bergy. You could eat a shit-ton of gamma ray meatloaf, but you'd still be giving up first pitch grand slams. And I wouldn't have it any other way.