Wednesday, August 31, 2011


I know this is more Mets-related than Marlins-related, but I promised a friend (a Mets fan) I would write this, so just sit tight while I do him this favor. Plus, it's rather enjoyable to discuss something that drives Mets fans crazy, so you know, there's that.

Mike Pelfrey is an asshole. Not just your average asshole, either. He's like a super-duper, piece of shit, jackass, horse-fucking asshole.

With Johan Santana (remember him?!) still out of the Mets rotation, Mike Pelfrey is, for lack of a better word, the ace of the staff. Laughable? Yes, but, that's what he is. And he's a fucking awful one. Not just because he stinks either, although that would be more than enough reason to brand him an asshole. No, it's because he seems to think nothing of taking the entire Mets bullpen with him as he spirals into a fiery pit of suck.

One of the jobs of a starting pitcher, one rarely spoken about, is to eat innings while also being pretty good. Being awesome for five innings means nothing if the team has to try and figure out how to get through the last four with a bunch of shitsack relievers. And that's why Mike Pelfrey is an ass.

Before last night's game, I tweeted that Pelfrey was good for 117 pitches through 4.1 innings. I was using hyperbole. And I was only off by 5 outs and a pitch.

Pelfrey isn't hard to figure out. He goes out there and he nibbles. And then he nibbles some more. And then some more. And then, before anyone realizes it, it's the 5th inning and he's already over 100 pitches. He's either too stupid or too stubborn to change. Good pitchers don't nibble. They fucking attack. Roy Halladay completes entire games in 120 pitches. He's only gone less than six innings twice this year. Pelfrey, in his last six starts, has gone longer than six innings just once. He went a whole one out longer than six innings, actually. 6.1 innings. 107 pitches. Fucking douche.

The Mets need one asshole pitcher per year to fill a quota and for the last few years, Oliver Perez filled that role nicely. But, with Perez gone, someone else needed to step up, and boy has Pelfrey delivered. If different types of assholes made up a fruit cocktail, Mike Pelfrey would be the maraschino cherry.

Luckily, I'm not a Mets fan and I don't have to stare at Pelfrey's stupid face every five days -- I have Chris Volstad for that! -- but if I did have to, I'd probably wind up smacking it with a hot fucking skillet. I'll be at the game on Tuesday night, so if I see Pelfrey and I happened to have just made sausage, I promise you, Mets fans, I'll do it in your honor.

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