Things were looking bad for the Mets last night. Quintana was masterful on the mound, shutting out the Brewers through six innings, but the bats were moribund. It seemed like one of those games in which the first team to score would hold on with their strong bullpen and pull out the squeaker. Diaz was strong in the Mets pen and could go two innings. Milwaukee was even stronger: Devin Williams is essentially unhittable. And Milwaukee was showing more swagger. Their pitchers were roaring off the mound and making ape-like muscle poses heading towards their dugout. I was beginning to hate them.
And when Quintana was removed after his brilliant six and Butto took the mound, my fears were realized. First, Jake Bauers homered, a Yankee discard. And then, oh no!, Sal Frelick followed with another one! Back-to-back daggers — we’d be going into the eighth down at least 2-0. Ouch!
At this point the question arose: Is Sal Frelick Jewish? Needless to say, that would put an interesting spin on things: I’ve been rooting for Atlanta these last few years because of Max Fried. But an intensive search by Owl Chatter’s research division concludes that he is not. He is not listed among the Jewish ballplayers catalogued by Wikipedia, and he played for Italy in the last World Baseball Classic. I’m going to go out on a limb and say he’s Italian. (Duh.)
So, where were we? Oh, yeah, the Mets game. At this point I fell asleep. I was tired from two hours of driving Lianna around earlier (not complaining: we cherish every moment with her), plus I’m too f*cking old to be staying up so late. So I missed Diaz coming in to quell the revolt in the seventh and keep things quiet in the eighth. The Mets went down 1-2-3 in their eighth. Oy. Now it’s the ninth, and still 2-0. Williams is on the mound. He’s scary good, but Lindor draws a walk. Hope stirs. But Vientos strikes out. Rats! Then, Nimmo somehow puts a solid bat on a pitch and drives it to right for a single, Lindor racing to third. The Mets are in business! Up next was Alonso, the Mets slugger. But he was having such a bad season and such a bad series. He just didn’t look like his old self — the one that hit over 50 homers one year. And then he did. Williams pitched, Alonso swung, and the ball carried to right — an opposite field shot, with just enough on it to make it over the fence cleanly. OMG — the Mets were suddenly up 3-2!
Williams’ signature pitch is his “airbender” change-up. He threw it 176 times during the season and never gave up a home run with it. Until this one. As Hinch said yesterday: Isn’t baseball great?
Along with Lindor’s homer on Monday, this was historic. A reporter referenced Alonso’s recent troubles after the game: were your struggles a factor as you approached the plate? And he explained he takes a “next pitch” approach. Block everything in the past out: focus solely on the next pitch. [Easy enough to say.]
The Mets would still have to shut the Brewers out in their half of the ninth. But ex-Gnat and ex-Brewer Jesse Winker (“Wink”) gave us an insurance run. He was playing angry all week. After a big triple in Game 1 he jawed at shortstop Adames, who shouted right back. We later learned Adames actually went out to the parking lot after the game “to settle things.” But Winker did not attend the meeting.
Anyway, after Alonso’s blast, Wink was plunked by a pitch and then stole second. A sweet single by darling Starling Marte sent Wink racing around third, and scoring safely ahead of the throw. He then slammed his helmet down on the plate in a furious celebration, breaking the helmet. We got the message fella — good job.
Peterson, normally a starter, was called on to close. He’s a lefty and good, but he’s never pitched in relief before and the first batter — that goy Frelick again – singled to left center leading off the inning. Oy. After Ortiz struck out (yay) things were still a little dicey. Bryce Turang, who is very speedy and had been having a very good series was up. Even scarier, Chourio was on deck — the kid who hit two homers the night before. Peterson pitched. Turang swung and hit the ball sharply, but right to Lindor at short. Francisco took what seemed like a hundred steps, but reached second in time to step on the base and fire the ball to first for the game-ending double play.
Sweet. Here’s Alonso, watching his historic shot clear the fence. The Phillies are up next. Tomorrow.
Speaking of Petes, my Pete Rose autograph arrived. Gorgeous.
The puzzle knocked me for a loop today. That’s okay. It happens on the odd Friday or Saturday. Of course, I could have done without Rex calling it not only “easy,” but “extremely easy.” Ouch. I missed on LANAI as “Onetime home of the world’s largest pineapple plantation,” forgot the last two letters of LGBTQIA, and, worst of all, had – – – LIANHERO for “Long lunch?” but just couldn’t see ITALIAN HERO. Ridiculous. Also whiffed on GEN Y for “Demo for many parents of Alphas.” (WTF?) Here’s Rex on GEN Y: ugh no one calls it that. Only crosswords call Millennials “GEN Y.” It goes Boomers, Gen X, Millennials, Gen Z, and, I guess, Alphas (a default reset so we could start over at the beginning of the (Greek) alphabet??). But GENY? GENY?
At 43A “Once, for one,” was a very hard clue. You had to realize that “once” is Spanish for the number eleven. So once = a number, and in Spanish the word for number is NUMERO. (I just got that from the crosses.) Here’s a Tommy Tutone song about a number Rex shared and the owls wanted me to re-share because it references their special friend Newton Jenny (Hi Jelly!).
At 5A, “Tablet that’s impossible to swallow?” was IPAD.
But egs begged to differ: Check out this guy. Michel Lotito, known as ‘Monsieur Mangetout,’ was born on June 15, 1950, in Grenoble, France. He was famous for deliberately eating indigestible objects.
Lotito began eating unusual material at age 9 and performed publicly beginning in 1966, around the age of 16. He had an eating disorder known as pica, which is characterized by an appetite for substances that are largely non-nutritive. Doctors determined that he also had a thick lining in his stomach and intestines which allowed his consumption of sharp metal without suffering injury. Lotito also had digestive juices that were unusually powerful, meaning that he could digest the unusual materials. However, it also meant that soft foods, such as bananas and hard-boiled eggs, made him sick.
Lotito’s performances involved the consumption of metal, glass, rubber and other materials. He disassembled, cut up, and consumed items such as bicycles, shopping carts, televisions, beds and a Cessna 150. It took him roughly two years, from 1978 to 1980, to eat the Cessna 150. He drank a lot of mineral oil and water to help things go down. Between 1959 and 1997, he ate around nine tons of metal. OK egs — we get it — he could swallow an IPAD.
He was awarded a brass plaque by the Guinness Book of Records. He ate the award. [Not kidding.]
Let’s finish up tonight with OC fave Larissa Liveir playing Johnny B. Goode. She’s from Brazil.
See you tomorrow Chatterheads!
The Wellington Files 