Once again, Josh Beckett was something less than impressive, allowing two homers as the Dodgers fell to the Padres 9-3. (Including one, I have to point out, to Nick Hundley, that was just absolutely destroyed.) We could talk about that, or the three double plays that killed rallies, or the endless men left on base, or the bullpen finally ending their perfect streak to get absolutely torched for five runs in the eighth inning.
We could talk about the good things, too. Carl Crawford, Andre Ethier, & Adrian Gonzalez all had two hits, despite facing a deluge of lefty pitching. Chris Capuano threw a perfect inning in his season debut. Matt Kemp even showed some life with a double, his third of the season.
But none of that matters here. That’s just baseball. That’s a game, played by mortals. What we saw tonight transcends all that, because we saw Juan Uribe, good old reliably horrendous Uribe, who somehow managed to stick on a team worth eleventyhundred billion dollars, crushing a ball over the right field bleachers. It’s his first homer since he trolled me in person last July against R.A. Dickey, and it was magnificent. It was everything we hoped it could be, and more. It was, dare I say, Uribetastic.
The funny thing is, even when Uribe connects with the ball, he still looks awful doing it. Just look at his lower half when he connects with the dinger, as though he might have fallen face first if not for being able to transfer all that energy onto the ball. It’s not like we haven’t seen it before.
Juan Uribe, you’re the best. And by “best,” I still absolutely mean “unquestionably still the worst”. But for tonight, at least, here’s to you, you absurdly wealthy, ludicrous car owning, soul-crushing baseball machine.