The only thing His Imperial Majesty has to say after a string of utterly retarded substitutions and decisions in Game 6 is that if Ron Washington isn’t named MVP of the St. Louis Cardinals, then there is no justice in this world.

P.S.: I should add, though, before I sound like a whiny beeotch trying to come up with excuses, that this World Series has been the single most nerve-wracking, nail-biting, exciting series I’ve ever had the pleasure to watch with some truly amazing baseball played by both sides. They’re both teams clearly deserving to be where they are and if, Heaven forbid, His Majesty’s Rangers go down to defeat tomorrow (which they won’t, he added hastily), I can’t think of very many teams I’d rather lose to.

P.P.S.: We suppose we should substantiate our claim that Wash had his head up his arse, so we will. We’re not going to go into the early game because both teams farked up repeatedly and, at any rate, it’s not something that the coaches had control over.

But let’s fast forward to the bottom of the ninth with Rangers 7-5 and the World Series within grasp, Feliz pitching which is the correct call. He’s the closer after all and, on top of that, he’s 6 for 6. What else would a coach do? But Feliz finally manages to bungle a save, it happens, nobody’s perfect, and the game ends up tied.

Then, at the top of the 10th, Josh Hamilton, in spite of an injury to his groin that has kept him in a role that he’s not at all accustomed to because he can’t swing through, gives the team another two run lead by brushing the sand out of his vagina, embracing the suck and taking one for the team that surely must have hurt him, G-d bless him. One-handed two-run homer. Bloody marvelous, if you ask us.

Bottom of the tenth, same situation as the bottom of the ninth. We’re not going to second guess Wash’s decision to yank Feliz at this point, he HAD blown a save, after all, even though we’d probably have left him in to close the sale. He was getting warm and all that, but that’s just conjecture. It’s not a bad decision to yank somebody who’s just blown it. But then Wash decides to interrupt Darren Oliver’s Jell-O night at the nursing home to bring his geriatric butt out on the mound so he can demonstrate the awesomeness of his 20 mph “fast” ball?

Needless to say, grandpa didn’t work out to well and we soon found ourselves in an unenviable position again, at which point Wash decided to send somebody in who had an actual arm, that somebody being Feldman. Feldman, left with Old Man Moses’ mess left stinking up the floor, managed to keep the damage to a single run, leaving the game at 9-8 with only one out remaining to get the World Series. Almost there, for the second time, and the crowd goes wild. Well, the Rangers crowd at least.

So what happens next? Albert Pujols, who hasn’t hit anything outside of Game 3 but is apparently the Single Most Scary Baseball Player in the World™ as a result of that is intentionally walked on Wash’s orders so we can face the much less scary Lance Berkman who doesn’t seem to be able to look at a ball without scoring at least a single so far in the series. Great call, Wash. Of course, we then find ourselves with another tied game, thanks again, Wash, I hope the Cards are paying you enough for your services, and then, just to add insult to injury, in the top of the 11th Wash decides to sub out Feldman, the only pitcher we have at the time who knows how to throw a ball, so German can get a swing at the bat with two outs and a runner on first, leaving us with Lowe, who couldn’t pitch his way out of a wet paper bag as our “defense” at the bottom of the 11th.

Unsurprisingly, Freese then proceeds to slam Lowe’s beach ball out of the park to win the game.

Great job, Wash.


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By Emperor Misha I

Ruler of all I survey -- and then some.

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