You have got to be joking...

...but that shit just ain't funny.

This was a game that the Devil Rays were handing to the Jays all night, and no one in the Jays' lineup seemed remotely interested in nutting up and taking it. That's why this season is swirling around the drain.

Hopefully, in between the postgame Nerf Olympics and Tickle Fights, someone in the dressing room takes a second to look at themselves in the mirror, and ask themselves why they are accepting losses like this. To have had the opportunities the Jays had in the 10th and 11th, not to mention the entire freaking game, and to cough it up like a furball time and again...it just demonstrates that something is seriously amiss in the heads of some of this team.

The final four innings of tonight's game gave us enough grey hairs that we're heading out tomorrow to audition to be the next Glad Man.

Carl Crawford Kicked Our Ass: After this afternoon's gleeful exaltations on his absence, Crawford runs wild on the basepaths to tie the game, then hits a walk-off homer with a mangled wrist, like he was playing the Tampa Bay Dinner Theatre production of The Natural, and the Jays were invited for opening night.

And seriously: Gibby or Ernie or the ghost of Al Widmar...whoever made the decision to keep Tallet, League, and even Frasor on the bench in favour of another inning of Brian Wolfe...what were you thinking?