"Chemistry?...Chemistry?...We Don't Need No Stinkin Chemistry!
And so, Brady Penny's ass-eating experiment continues, with the fragile cracker sucking shit against the steady and unflappable Midwestern Redbirds. On his game for the most part, a small but pronounced gap in an inning occurred predicated by the home plate umpire getting hit by a foul ball. Penny then walked two consecutive batters and gave up three consecutive hits and that was that as the Dodger offense, devastated by the cruel and godless loss of Furcal, ate small smacklings of bird poop themselves and managed not a single, teeny tiny eensie weenie run. If Chin Lung Hu doesn't get that gift triple last night, and Mark Sweeny doesn't pop out into kind of deep left, then the Boys of Summer score absolutely fuck all.
This team is a disaster that is a mere three games out in the West, which has returned to its official status as the laughing stock division of our national past time.
The good news is that Andruw Jones gets to eat lots of Twinkies and things for six weeks, as he and Furcal hang out smokin doobies and drinkin 40 ouncers while watchin Scoobie Doo. In the meantime, Ned "the Fag" Colletti calls up the every popular Terry Tiffee to add more of a logjam in the infield and create more confusion, just what Joe Torre, clearly the wrong manager for this team, needs at a time like this. Nomar moves to the sixty day DL, and Estaban Loaiza is offered Retard assignment in Vegas, which of course he will decline and will be waivered back to the AL and somehow get a fucking ring.
Fuck this game!