By Wyatt Earp | July 24, 2005
I’m sorry it took me so long to post after this morning, but I spent my day in the heat and humidity of scenic Camden, New Jersey. My friend Bill and I have a partial season ticket plan for the Camden Riversharks, the local minor-league baseball team. We’ve been ticketholders for three years now, but our patience is wearing thin. We’re almost in Kate Moss territory!
I realize that it’s minor league, but is it too much to ask to see a little fire in these guys? The team is now at .500, but fading rapidly. For example, during the last two Sunday games (which we attended) the Sharks lost a lead in the top of the ninth, and went on to lose the game. Twice in a row? What the hell??
Today, however, I was brimming with confidence as my beloved Sharks took a 7-4 lead into the ninth inning. The Lancaster Barnstormers aren’t exactly the kind of team I would worry about, but after the last two games, I was ready for the worst.
I got it.
Former Phillie (that should have been the first red flag) Wayne Gomes came on in relief, and promptly gave up four runs in the top of the ninth. Four freakin’ runs! (This is why I don’t carry my weapon off-duty.) Incredibly, the Riversharks loaded the bases with two outs in the bottom of the ninth . . . only to see Brian Hunter look at a called third strike. Cripes! Take the bat of your shoulder, Bri! All they needed was one lousy hit! Am I alone in this world???
It’s bad enough that they took Flippy Girl (pictured, below) away from me (she would have been my bride – when my wife finally kicks me out), but to do that and play crummy baseball? That’s powerfully uncool.