Sometimes, you’re walking down the street. Nice easy pace. Real cool. You’re nodding to all the people you pass like, “Yo, whassup, just doin’ some winnin’ over up in here.” You’re cruising.
And sometimes when you’re cruising, all of a sudden, completely out of the middle of nowhere, some dude in the street pulls a full-sized dead codfish out of his trench coat, and before you have time to even process that startling development, he takes that big ol’ codfish, and he smacks you in the face with it. Hard.
Just WHAM, cold cod across the bridge of your nose.
And sometimes that codfish is wearing a red, black-spotted bandanna, and has an earring, and an eyepatch, and some vaguely suspect facial hair. SOMETIMES THE CODFISH THAT SMACKS YOU SO UNEXPECTEDLY IN THE FACE IS A PIRATE CODFISH.
I think you see where I’m going here.
When you’ve gotten hit in the face with the pirate codfish, you’re stunned. You’re stunned firstly because you got hit in the head with an object that happens to be pretty hefty. But you’re also stunned because of what you got hit with. It’s not something at least understandable, like a crowbar or the Chicago Wrong Sox or some other mundane bludgeoning tool. It’s a DEAD FISH. Wearing a BANDANNA.
All you can do is stand there and gape and go, “whaaaa?”
That many errors and almost-errors in two games is not just unacceptable, it is downright incomprehensible. We are all reeling from the codfish blow right now.
We can only hope Jim Leyland is quick enough to recover from the codfish blast to scream some sense into these Tigs. If this doesn’t prompt another Leyland Tirade, my goodness, nothing will.