Showing posts with label bad officiating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bad officiating. Show all posts

Friday, June 4, 2010

An executive decision

I've made one. I'm tired of hearing about the not-perfect game. I'm tired of thinking about it. I'm tired of talking about it. I was going to write an enormously long post about it for today, but it's just annoying and there's nothing to be said about it that hasn't already been said. So instead of copying the echo chamber, I've decided not to add to the cacophony.

So consider this my post on the not-perfect game: it's a crime that it happened. He should have made the call, and the umpires should have conferenced to make sure the call was right. When they didn't, Bud Selig should have invoked the "best interests in the game" clause and declared it a perfect game; there is no "dangerous precedent" to set because this has never happened before and likely never will again. It is cut-and-dried 100% certain proof that instant replay should be expanded in baseball - as my brother said, "It's tradition to have the 'human element,' but it was also tradition to use the Pony Express to deliver mail and we got rid of that nonsense."

I may post later on instant replay, and on the recent overall incompetence and jackassery of MLB's umpires. I feel pretty strongly on both, and I think I have something creative to say. But on the subject of Armando Galarraga's newfound fame, I think everything that needs to be said has already been said.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

A bad day

In some alternate universe Junior never got hurt, and he hit 760 home runs. And nobody cared about Barry Bonds.

Yesterday was quite possibly the most depressing day I've had as a baseball fan since Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS (the 97-win Mets inexplicably losing to the not-that-good Cardinals). It was just very upsetting.

I'm planning on going into more detail about all of this later, but I was unhappy enough when I found out that Ken Griffey, Jr. was retiring. The Armando Galarraga/Jim Joyce snafu made things even worse. And then the Mets lost in about the worst way possible: Johan pitches well, Ass-Rod blows the save, and there's a walk-off grand slam.

Clearly I have done something to anger the baseball gods. I offer them this sacrifice, to appease them:
God, I hate him.