The following guest article is written by Mariners Rants, who you can follow on Twitter @MarinersRants if so inclined. Be aware that the uncensored commentary below is not safe for work and certainly not for the faint of heart. The views and opinions expressed by Mariners Rants do not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of the Seattle Sportsnet staff.
What in the holy fuck are you motherfuckers doing out there? I mean, seriously. What in the complete and utter shit is this mess?
Here we are 54 fucking games into this godforsaken season and you assholes have somehow only managed to scratch together 24 fucking wins. Your own goddamn manager told us to be patient until the 50-game mark. Wait for 50 games, he advised, before you judge this ball club. THAT WAS FOUR GAMES AGO! And you guys are shit! It’s not hard to see. You. Are. Shit. You haven’t won shit, you can’t hit shit, your relievers pitch like shit, and everyone watching you play feels like shit because of the backasswards bullshit you’ve put us through. It’s a fucking monsoon of pure, unadulterated shit!
Where does anyone even begin when attempting to sift through all the flaws this team has displayed in the season’s first two months?
When I was a kid, I used to think I was the weird one. I imagine there’s a point in time when everyone sees themselves in that light. You figure that your peers are normal, adults are normal, everyone is normal but you. And when you grow up, you’re gonna be the one that stands out like a sore thumb because you’re so awkwardly different. Then one day you find yourself in your late-twenties and a lady in Zubaz and a head wrap doing lunges across the entire length of a gym floor runs smack dab into the weight you’re lifting in a tiny corner of the room that just happens to be along her path to health and wellness. Never mind the fact that there is a vast amount of floor space to utilize, or that lunges can be done in isolation without the need to traverse along a straight line forward. Never mind that you’ve quarantined yourself to an area no bigger than three-feet-by-three-feet or that this woman could have very easily stopped short of running into you. No, for some people weirdness is damn near inexplicable. I can’t explain why a run-down Erykah Badu lookalike collided with my personal space (as well as a barbell) when there was so much freakin’ space to be had, but it did occur and it was weird.