April 7th, 2016 by Shannon Michael Smith
Last night The Padres rolled out in their Navy Seal camo or whatever the hell that was…it must be tough to be a Padres fan…a new uniform every day. It reminds us of when the Spalding brothers tried to outfit every position in a unique uniform in 1882, prompting a writer to comment that the players looked like “a Dutch bed of tulips.” Forget about polyester knickers and military camo, The Friars should just sport monk robes from now on. The team barber could shave a little bald patch on top of all their heads…
If you haven’t been to Petco, Dodger fans dominate and we have to feel a little sorry for the overmatched hosts. Last year, we witnessed a frail old man (he looked just like Gus The Fireman from Leave It To Beaver) try to start a “Let’s Go Padres” cheer, only to be booed down by Dodger bullies (we gotta admit, we laughed, what’s wrong with us?) Poor Friars fans can’t hold their own ground…it’s just sad. WHERE IS THE SAN DIEGO CHICKEN WHEN THEY NEED HIM? Sadly, he was attacked and nearly raped in an ugly incident that left this writing staff scarred for life (see attached photo).
The flawless Dodger pitching continues as Kenta Maeda threw six shutout innings in his MLB debut, he also went yard in the fourth with a solo shot. Puig joined the monster mash melee in the eighth with his own solo jack (his stick’s been on fire so far). Yimi Garcia, J.P. Howell, and Joe Blanton finished off the frazzled Friars to keep The Dodgers’ club E.R.A. a frosty zero.
The Dodgers continue their dream hitting (let’s be careful now…the Dogs love to put on a spellbinding April). We know it’s only one series, but they’re off to a swell start.
What’s next? A four-game series with the hated ones and their battery chucking supporters. We’ve been to claustrophobic AT&T (or whatever wretched sponsor owns the name to that pillbox) and we gotta say we much preferred Candlestick Park. Sure, we had more death threats at Candlestick (just wear Dodger gear to a game up there and see what happens) but you could sit in an entire section by yourself (they could never fill that joint). Plus, they had concrete party tables bayside (much nicer than that stagnant mosquito pond knows as McCovey Cove).
So get ready for pasty, bitter fans dressed in Halloween colors to scream “Beat L.A.” as they shake their grubby little fists. The smug that they store up in that stadium per game could power Paris for a year! How will Alex Wood (and his incredibly violent delivery) fare? Tune in tomorrow, mirth seekers!