My father-in-law pointed out to me that Jayson Werth was injured last week
. Even though the competitive spirit in me would much rather beat down a healthy Dodgers team, the little demon in me had a good laugh at Werth's expense.
There's two reasons why I dislike Werth. First, and this is a childish one, as Jess said to me the other day, "I know I shouldn't say this, but that's a really gay way to spell Jason. And I don't mean homosexual." I know what she means. More like "gay" when Eminem says it. I apologize if any of our readers spell their names Eminem gay.
Second requires a little story: I was at a game with my wife and my in-laws. We were playing the Dodgers. Werth was having a notably unspectacular game. He'd been struck out 3 times already and the fans in the left field bleachers were giving him the business. There were some loudmouths nearby yelling about this and that. Difficult to tell who they were even rooting for, but I mostly kept to myself.
Some time, late in the game, the Dodgers take the lead. I believe it was on a devastatingly long Shawn Green homerun. Maybe it was Bradley. I don't quite remember, but in the Padres half of the inning, Werth runs out to his spot in left field and holds his finger up to his mouth like saying, "SShhhhh" to everybody in the left field stands.
Well, let me tell you... I nearly shit my pants. I jumped up from my seat in section 122.. Left field's foul territory... And I proceeded to tear into Werth. I think I said something along the lines of "YOU CAN'T TALK BUSHLEAGUER! YOU GOT THREE K'S ON THE DAY! YOU'VE DONE NOTHING YOU WORTHLESS JACKASS!" I don't think I cursed, but who knows. Later, Jess said that the girl sitting next to her mentioned that I was so angry, my entire body was trembling.
Werth hears me, turns and I just give him hell till I turn blue in the face, to which he promptly brushes his shoulders off in that cocky Jay-Z kinda way, then takes off his hat and looks at it and nods. Like saying, hey I'm a Dodger... aint' that something? So I freak out, foaming at the mouth, and I give it to him a little bit more. The loudmouths nearby were shocked at my sudden display. Even they were a little embarrassed for me.
Fast forward to bottom of the twelfth. We got a man on. Khalil is up to bat. Two down. A rookie with class, unlike this prick, Werth, in left field. Khalil can win it right here with a homerun. We've fallen behind by one run thanks to old man Ventura. Pitch comes in. He crushes it. Everybody's on their feet. Werth sprints back to the wall. He's got his hand on the wall. He's going to try to time a jump. He's waiting... waiting... He steps forward slowly and catches it in the middle of the warning track. The air goes right out of the stadium. Werth turns to the left field stands and takes a bow. Then as he runs off he gives me a toodle-loo wave.
By then, I was exhausted and too weak to respond. I was probably dehydrated from all the shouting and crapping of my pants with rage. We went home defeated.
So... Even though I wouldn't go so far as to actually have wished injury on somebody, I do have to say that I hope it hurt like hell when he broke his arm, and I can't wait to watch him strike out three more times against us during the season. I just better make sure to wear some old pants.
Updated: Just read Kev's update
. I had completely forgotten it was extra innings. And old man Ventura was the one who hit the shot. It's coming back to me now. Those monster blasts by Green and Bradley must've happened some other time. It was a shot by pinch hitting Ventura. I even remember saying, "easy out". Baseball karma I guess.
Updated: Fixed the story to coincide my poor memory with reality.