We've already wasted too much energy and too much digital ink waxing poetic, philosophic and nostalgic over Roy Halladay. So, on this, the first meeting in which our side faces its former ace in game action, we have one simple thought:
Seriously. Fuck him, and fuck his "30 win season", and his postseason aspirations, and his perfunctory full page ads in the Sun. You wanna wear another team's laundry, then fine...but we hope our guys hammer you all over their borrowed "home field" tonight.
In this post-Halladay era, the supposedly hapless Jays sit at 39-34, four and a half games back in the AL East and the AL Wild Card race. Meanwhile, the unstoppable force that is the 138 million-dollar Phillies, armed to the teeth with Doc and an incomparable offense, sit at 38-32, mid-pack in the NL East. Behind the Mets. We're pretty sure that's the way that you all figured it was going to play out.
Look: We respect all that guy did for our team while he was in Toronto, so we don't wish anything painful or catastrophic upon him. We just want to watch his neck get sore as he's watching moonshots lofted into the Philadelphia skyline tonight.
Friday Rock Out - Sad Bastard Country Ballad Edition
In honour of our continued attempts to put our former ace out of our mind, we offer the greatest of all sad bastard country ballads, captured live on Canada's own Ronnie Prophet Show.