By Justin Archer
Special to BBA Weekly
April 7, 2039
One game you’re king of the world, and the next you suck worse than Coldplay (if that’s physically possible).
That’s life in the bigs, I guess.
On Opening Day, we had close to 40,000 fans screaming in our place: we had a giant American flag in the outfield, and Alabama football legend Nick Saban (who’s 87!) threw … OK rolled … out the first pitch, and everything was cool as could be.
We won the game, and I helped – pitched the last two innings against Atlantic City, and didn’t allow a run. It wasn’t my cleanest game (I walked Reece Wareham in the 8th, and grooved a fastball to Adrián Salazar, who mashed it for a double, in the 9th.
Still, I didn’t feel any hangover from Spring Training where I felt I’d lost my groove. I knew in warmups I had my good slider, and the fastball was popping.
No sweat.
But flash forward to Thursday against San Antonio and … damn. I just sucked.
I had my stuff OK, but I just made too many silly-ass mistakes.
We’re leading 7-6 in the 8th, and Bret (Richards) brings me in as part of this new stopper concept he’s got and start out like crap, walking the first guy I face. But then I jam Pedro Suárez and he grounds one to short, and (Fernando) Navarro flips it to González, who whips it to first for the double play.
So now, I’ve got two outs. In the bag, right?
Well, if you had anyone but a chucklehead on the mound you’d have it in the bag. But no, you’ve got me.
I fall behind Chang-hyeok Chang 2-0 and figure I’ll smoke him inside, but instead I leave my fastball out over the plate and he rips it for a single.
Still, I’m confident.
What an idiot.
Turns out, he’s so surprised he rockets it out to left center for a 2-run blast that’s probably still rising. I don’t even turn to look at it.
We lose. I lose.
Hotha doesn’t say a word to me after the game, but I know he’s pissed I shook him off. Hell, I’m pissed I shook him off.
In fact, I’m just pissed, period.
If Bret is ever stupid enough to put me in another game, I will tear the place down.
And I will never be moronic enough to shake off my catcher again – unless I know he’s wrong.
Then I’ll do what I feel like and see if we can track down the resulting homer with the Hubble Space Telescope.
It’ll be in orbit right next to White’s …