Yeah yeah, Shane. Grind bones, make bread...whatever.
When the season started, I genuinely liked the Phillies, with the exception of twin goblins Shane Victorino and Raul Ibanez. I despised the vast majority of Philadelphia's insufferable fanbase, but I liked the Phillies just fine. I rankled a bit at their building The Most Infallible and Perfect Baseball Rotation in the History of Everything Ever, with nary a Barry Zito in their midst. But still I didn't really wish them any ill.
After the Giants went to Philadelphia, after the Phillies added Hunter Pence, and after the first two games of this series, I hate the Phillies' guts. I hate every last one of them. Their elevated sense of entitlement and self-importance is seldom seen outside of a Yankees uniform. They are bullies, crybabies, and smuglords all at once. They're going to steamroll their way to a pennant and they're going to smug themselves all the way to the bank.
And why not? Why shouldn't they? If the Phillies were the Giants, I'd be smugging it up right along with them. But I can still hate them, and hate them royally. I still hope they walk all over the Diamondbacks next week, but I also hope they burn in hell. In the absence of a good and non-bankrupt Dodgers team to throw ire behind, the Unbeatable Phillies will do just nicely for the heaping of scorn.
By the way, the Giants won't make the playoffs unless they can score more than two runs per game. Spoilers: they won't begin doing that any time soon. I am already beginning to entertain thoughts of "next year."
No comments:
Post a Comment