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GEORGE COSTANZA ON PIRATES-MARLINS WILD CARD GAME
(read in an agitated, over-caffeinated voice, probably from a payphone outside PNC Park)
So let me get this straight—the Marlins, the team that was supposed to make noise in October, they show up to Pittsburgh and... what? They forget how to play baseball!? One run?? ONE?! That’s not a playoff effort! That’s not even a Wednesday night beer league effort!
The Pirates, I mean, look at them—they’re bootin’ the ball around, they make three errors, and they STILL win by three runs! Three! That’s not baseball, that’s cosmic punishment!
Let’s talk about Miami's “offense.”
Hardwick? He gets on base once, does nothing.
Solorzano? 0-for-4 with two strikeouts.
Willy Morales? He scores the only run… on a single by the CATCHER! The catcher! D. Eustis, baby! Not exactly Mike Piazza back there! One RBI and then poof! That’s it! Curtains! Pack your bags, Miami, go sit in traffic on I-95!
Now you flip the scorecard to Pittsburgh—Sean Hughes? The guy goes seven innings, gives up three hits, and I swear, the guy looked like he was pitching against mannequins! You could’ve put the ‘86 Mets out there, and the Marlins still wouldn’t have scored more than one run!
And don’t get me started on that Marlins bullpen—Spann goes nearly seven, fine, OK, but 99 pitches, and you could see it, he was starting to fray like the hem of a pair of discount pants. Then Oviedo comes in, eight pitches, no damage, great—BUT YOU’RE ALREADY LOSING!
Oh, and the Pirates’ offense? Not exactly Murderers' Row, OK, but they get timely hits. A couple of sac bunts, a two-out double, Villa drives in two—this guy’s the backup catcher! He’s not even supposed to be in the game! And he’s out there breaking hearts!
I tell ya, it’s always the Pirates. Small payroll, little stadium, massive chip on their shoulder. They get no respect and then they roll into the Division Series like they own the place.
So now the Marlins? They’re back on the beach. They’re swimming with the tourists. While Pittsburgh? They’re playin’ Philly next week. Oh, that’s gonna be a series! Cheesesteaks vs. pierogis! Mayhem! But that’s not Miami’s problem. Their problem is that their bats are made of styrofoam and their season is done!
I’m tellin’ ya, if I was managing that team? I’d be in the locker room right now throwing sunflower seeds at everybody. Nobody’s safe.
I gotta go. My pretzel’s getting cold.
GEORGE OUT.
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