Tonight was the opening night of something we have all known to be true: Our lack of true veteran experience killing us in a pennant race. September has started, and folks, this is where the big boys go home. Sure, sometimes you get pansies like the '07 Rockies or the '69 Mets, but those are pansies, and should be viewed as pansy outliers that are highlighted in pink on RJs spreadsheet where games aren't won. Spreadsheets are the calling card of the pansy. Remember when BJ made that awesome catch? Yeah, good plays are for pansies, you need to get your blood on your face, or else you'll be a big disgrace, like that pansy A-Rod who can have a Jello or Slurp or Gork or whatever of like a bajillion in the first 8 innings, but it doesn't matter because the Infielder I want over A-Rod in the inning that matters name rhymes with "Eckstein".
We have all these fancy young players, but they don't have the proverbial barnacles of grit that the ol faithfuls like Jeter and Erstad and Pete Rose. Pete Rose could play baseball today, and he would lead the majors in runs gritted in. You know what our problem is? Guys like Miller aren't emotional enough, our guys need to scream and dive and generally act like a seizure until we are in the playoffs. Thank Eckstein for Percival, or we'd never even have won 60 games with this group of young spoiled pansies.
You know who we need to get? Derek Jeter in 2011, and maybe we'll actually be competitive. His Defense in september just screams flying dirt loving grit, and he can whip soft liners to the opposite field in a way only the all time grits could. Derek Jeter could jump 10 feet and could catch a speeding falcon with his teeth, and then he'd make a face like a monkey just came flying out of his ear. Then he'd join the mexican little league team and lead them to a world championship with one hand tied behind his gritty little back. This would become a Disney movie.