Wham! Biff! Sock! Pow!
Wright. Reyes. Jacobs. Castro. Matsui. (Matsui? Yes, Matsui.) Seo.
As Willie Randolph indicated with his finger to his lips at the end, nobody wake up this team. Nobody rouse David Wright to express their admiration of his march into the elite precincts of the National League. Nobody stop to discuss how much they're enjoying Jose Reyes's wild abandon, sudden power and continuing education in pitch selection. Nobody have a heart-to-heart with Ramon Castro about if he'll soon have more RBIs than hits. Nobody — this means you, Ed Coleman — suggest to young Mike Jacobs that he's Roy Hobbs. Nobody ask Jae Seo how he learned to channel Bob Gibson. Nobody tell Kaz Matsui that hey, we've missed you. And nobody wake anybody else up to marvel that we're clubbing with practically no contributions from Beltran or Floyd. Everybody just keep on rolling. Don't think, Meat, just throw. And hit. And field. And cheer, or boo, or sleep, or whatever it is you're doing at home.
On the flipside, I imagine the Diamondbacks' part of the blogosphere ain't exactly a happy place right now. If any D-Backs bloggers stuck around for the whole thing, in fact, my hat's off. (And hey, we know the feeling.) That second inning was the worst frame of defensive baseball I can remember in years: It included a wild pitch, the right fielder stumbling and turning a fly ball into a double, the center fielder breaking the wrong way and allowing a bloop single, and then — as if that weren't enough for a week of muttering — Jackson and Clayton somehow allowing two runs to score on an inning-ending double play. Two runs! I've never seen that. It never occurred to me that I might see that.
Nor did I ever imagine going to a seventh inning with three different guys in the lineup missing one hit for the cycle. Baseball being baseball, of course, Reyes didn't get his double and neither Wright nor Jacobs got their triple. 18-4 demolitions being 18-4 demolitions, Wright and Jacobs hit home runs instead. I guess it would have been silly to stop at third and refuse to go any farther.
The only fly in the ointment was whatever the hell it was Victor Diaz thought he was doing tagging up from second in a 17-0 game. An inexcusable move, and I held my breath at the thought of all the self-destructive macho dominoes that could have started falling there, and I suppose still might. Here's hoping Willie gives Victor a thorough dressing-down, and/or sends Pedro, Ice or one of the vets to discuss not showing up the opposition, letting sleeping dogs lie, and all the other cliches Victor should know by now. I'm kind of a fan of brawls, but here's hoping Pedro doesn't feel the need to defend Met honor (even though poor Kaz hardly deserved being the plunkee, on the best night he's had in an age). The possible consequences range from suspensions to brawl-related injuries, and we can't afford either. Victor was in the wrong; it shouldn't have been Kaz that got hit, but for the sake of the team and what we're trying to accomplish, best to walk away.
Besides, when you score 18 runs on 20 hits, your honor's pretty unassailable.
P.S. Kudos to MSG for some very nice TV work tonight, from Pedro showing Zambrano the circle change (Victor! Listen to this man!) to spying on Willie's attempts to stay stone-faced to the footage of Mike Lowell catching Luis Terrero with the hidden-ball trick to the late shot of the D-Backs president sitting by himself looking rumpled and mournful. Excellent work all around.