How Sweep It Is 

Today was one of the best games I've attended in a long time, not for the quality of play but for the quality, nay, sheer quantity of Dodger humiliation that spoke volumes about their frustration and total Southern California lameness.

Gagne's freakout was lots of fun, but all game long Jason Werth provided ample fodder for us in the left field bleachers. As Werth's day got worse and worse ("Whassamatta with Werth-less?"), the jeers just got louder. To his credit, or maybe not, he egged us on by turning to us frequently and actually trying to *stare us down.* Unbelievable. He also rolled his eyes, flapped his glove, and at one point made a motion with his hand as if he were brushing dandruff from his shoulder. I think that meant, "I brush off your silly taunts as if dry flesh were falling from my scalp onto my polyester uniform."

Needless to say, the jeers got louder. In the top of the 8th, the Dodgers loaded the bases with no outs against Wayne Franklin. Brower came in to face Werth, who struck out. When he came out for the bottom of the 8th, the jeers got louder. I've never heard such derision, and I've never seen an opposing ballplayer get so worked up over it.

All in a day's work for El Lefty Malo y sus compadres en el 138.


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