Mariners Excerpt.

Now, on to more important things, the Seattle Mariners have started their 2006 season with a series win over the Los . . . Angels. I'm a huge proponent of seeing the opening few games as a barometer of how your team is going to do in the season. In 2001, the Mariners started off something crazy like 15-4, all against AL West teams, all pretty convincing wins. The last two years, we started like shit, and ended up losing 90+ games. Now, I don't know if this 2-1 record means that we're going to defy expectations and compete for the division for a while; or if Anaheim will simply stink with a lack of quality starting pitching outside of Bartolo Colon. Either way, there's one thing I know for certain:

I am going to murder J.J. Putz.

Now, I know I got his autograph, and for that I am grateful. After all, it's not every time you get to have the signed baseball mitt of someone who you're going to choke the life out of in their sleep. He's appeared in two games this season (with a 0-0 record to my astonishment) and given up two homers. One of those bombs lost us the opening game, the second helped Anaheim get back into a blowout yesterday. This scourge must be stopped!

Right now, our bullpen consists of Rafael Soriano getting our starters out of jams in the middle of innings, Eddie Guardado throwing 43 pitches to get three outs, J.J. Putz giving up nothing but Jose Mesa-style straight-and-narrow-fastball homeruns, and a whole lot of sucky assed LOSERS! For the time being, our starters are keeping us in it. Moyer is Moyer, he'll be all right. Piniero will be our Number 2 starter/.500 man. Washburn looks fucking solid, like a left-handed Aaron Sele in his prime. That just leaves Meche. If we can get .750 winning percentages from Moyer, Washburn, and Hernandez, we just might crack the 85 win mark this season! YEAH! Can you say OVER-FIVE-HUNDRED? Boo yah, I knew that you could.

Look, I just don't want to be depressed this summer about my baseball team. Fake it. Mariners, just give me the moans and groans like what we're doing here feels good. You don't ACTUALLY have to climax at the end, but at least put up a good show for four or five months, that's all I ask. Then, I can shoot my load and you can go back to not giving a fuck.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to rub one out while imagining Reese Witherspoon winning the Bigger Dance (and winning me an all-expenses paid trip for two to the Scottish Yak-Shaving Finals this November)