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Well let me tell ya, if you ever wanted to watch a baseball game that perfectly captures the pain, suffering, and utter hopelessness of the average working man… congratulations, you just found it.
The Toronto Blue Jays went down to Houston, and boy, did they play like a team that just spent the night sleeping on the couch because their wife “needed space.” Three runs, eight hits, and enough men left on base to fill my entire shoe store on a half-off ladies’ heels sale.
And the Astros? They win 5–3. Because of course they do. Everybody else gets lucky in life except me.
Now look — the Jays actually had a chance. They’re poking a run here, poking a run there, and I’m thinking, “Hey, maybe this won’t be like every sporting event I root for. Maybe this time, destiny smiles on ol’ Al Bundy.”
But no.
No, destiny took one look at Houston’s defense and said,
“Four errors? FOUR? What are you, the Chicago Cubs of disappointment?” And Toronto still lost.
I’ve seen more coordination in the shoe department on a day Peggy brings all her friends.
And then there’s Houston’s seventh inning. Two outs. Bases loaded. The Jays are almost out of it. Almost safe. Almost free.
Kyle Williams steps up.
Guy hits a bases-clearing double like he’s reliving HIS glory days — meanwhile I only get to relive scoring four touchdowns in one game at Polk High, because nobody ever listens when I talk about it!
That double made it 5-2, and Toronto never recovered. I haven’t seen a collapse that depressing since Bud tried to ask out literally any human woman.
Jimmy Sobie — Houston’s starter — throws 6.2 innings, gives up only two runs, and probably goes home to a wife who actually appreciates him.
Meanwhile, the Jays’ pitcher, C. Pearson, tosses 100 pitches and gets a 6.43 ERA for his trouble.
I haven’t seen someone work that hard for such terrible results since… well, me. At the shoe store. Every day of my miserable life.
So now the series is tied 1–1, and they play again tomorrow.
I’d say Toronto has a chance, but after watching this game?
Let’s just say I’ve got a better shot of coming home and finding Peggy cooking dinner.
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