Ah, Shabba! Reds 9-5

America's team fell down early, again, but like the last two nights bounced back and then held on, even after Coco meandered out of his corral. Nice job boys, Arroyo offers you a modest fist pump in recognition of your solid play. And also for his fifth consecutive win. 9-7? That rocks it. Rocks it like a masochist. Cue the guitar solo from a Creed album.

Eddie went yard to provide the lead, then Donkey went crackers in the 7th and the game was more or less over. He's got a bad case of the previously diagnosed, Home Run Fever. I say more or less because Big Frucking Nasty was given the opportunity to pitch shitty for the first time since his call up. And shitty pitch did he ever do. Three hits before his quick exit to the locker room, Burger King, and finally, his car to weep into his four Whoppers. God damn that handsome bastard and his inability to record outs at the major league level. Rockies in tomorrow and even Pete Coors Junior and the mountain streams of Colorado will tell you that they suck it. Reds! Reds! Reds!