We were in transit from the gym to the Tao's heavily-fortified Fortress of Solitude when we heard that Scrappy Doo was taken out of the lineup due to some nebulous injury which hampered his grittitude.
So we thought to ourselves: "Isn't this a great opportunity for Johnny Mac to steal the job away from the little blonde moppet?" And certainly, when McDonald stroked a solid base hit, we had this great notion that this would be a turning point in his season.
Alas, it was only too true.
There's nothing quite as sickening as seeing a look of panicked pain like the one on McDonald's face after he caught a cleat on the Rogers Centre turf in the sixth. That look pretty much foretold of a long stay on the DL. Groan.
As Wilner said to open the JaysTalk, welcome to the Jorge Velandia era.
The word from the Jays' PR shop (via Wilner) isthat they are waiting for the swelling to go down, and having been there before ourselves, we're guessing that means ligament damage. Ouch.
Thou shalt not lust after other teams' shortstops
Not that we think that we have this sort of power, but we'd been thinking all day about Rafael Furcal. Thinking about how he might be available for the right price at some point this season. Or about how he might be available to the highest bidder next year.
We thought longingly about his .448 OBP and his 1.045 OPS, and the fact that if anyone is this mythical "prototypical lead-off hitter" that people talk about endlessly, it is him. (Eckstein and Reed Johnson couldn't hold his jock in this respect.) Furcal is a plus fielder to boot, and would be an upgrade over Scrappy Doo if nothing else.
But wait! Are we being punished by God for our covetousness? Have the heavens rained down calamities on our middle infielders because we yearned lustily for the middle infielders of others? Cripes...Guess this means it's back to the self-flagellation for the rest of the night.
If anyone is having second thoughts about Eric Hinske after watching him hit that bomb...
Remember that if the Jays hadn't sent him packing, and if he didn't realize that he was at the very end of his career rope, then he'd be here in Toronto as a fat, cheese-eating dead weight with a stupid goatee and a stupid flattop taking up more than his share of the bench. And he probably wouldn't have taken the, er, "necessary steps" to get himself game ready for this year. (And for Tampa fans: there's still plenty of time for him to discover all of the fine waffle houses that Florida has to offer.)