Last night's Brewers-Dodgers game was miserable. It was frigid cold. The discounted tickets to commemorate Andre Ethier's 30-game hit streak did not seem to make that much of a dent in the sparsely attended seating areas* (particularly the top deck--which I know was not discounted, but looked like it had 150 people). [The Dodgers' two other comparable Monday games had crowds of 28K and 30K, so I suppose there was a very slight uptick.]
And there was nothing on the field about which to buzz, especially since every RISP would just result in a stranded runner (Matt Kemp's long fly ball scored Jamey Carroll on a sacrifice in the fourth inning, but other than that the Dodgers went 0-for-8 with RISP, an steaming pile of epic failness). Sure, people got excited for Carlos Gomez' robbery of a Juan Uribe almost-homer, and people applauded Jay Gibbons' smacking into the left field scoreboard while making a catch. But aside from that, this was a ghost town of a game.
How impotent are we? Last night, spots 5 through 8 in our lineup (Uribe, James Loney, Jay Gibbons, and Rod Barajas) were all batting below or near the level of the the Brewers' worst batter, the #7 Yuniesky Betancourt (.225). Whoop de frickin' doo.
And so, unsurprisingly, the Dodgers lost, 2-1, in a game that would be winnable by a team with any semblance of an offense. Which isn't us.
Jon Weisman over at Dodger Thoughts already chronicled how painful it was to watch this team tantalize the audience with potential opportunities, knowing that the end result would be another epic fail. Even Vin is losing hope.
It's mid-May, and we are out of it. I feel like a Royals fan. Mr. Customer, who visited SoSG Alex Cora and me, set up the evening by announcing his resolve to the impending defeat--before the game even began. Mr. Customer's friend couldn't even bring himself to wear a Dodgers cap to the game (he wore a Isotopes cap; fitting, given (a) how we're playing and (b) who's on the field, anyway).
And so, AC and I sat there, enjoying catching up (that's the "misery loves company" part), but ultimately watching an exercise in futility. There were more missed opportunities than a middle-school parent-chaperoned dance. In fact, it reminded me of this:
But let's go to the videotape.
And now let's have some Cracker Jack fun! This game was so dismal, AC and I were forced to resort to alternative means of occupying the time. But through the wonders of blog and photographic technology, we'll let you play along at home, too! Get ready, folks!
First, AC gets his toy surprise:
And here's what the surprise is!
(*) On the positive side, getting 3G coverage was a breeze last night.