* Just watched Mariners lose to the (
sh!tty lowly) Washington Nationals 4-2.
Fix Ty France.
Yah, I've never had a diary. Maybe I don't know how this works. But surely, Diary, you're more than just some endless dumping ground for misplaced emotion. Please, Diary, tell me that you have more power than being some papery shoulder to cry on.
You got any wishing-well qualities about you? Cuz I got a wish. The Mariners need their guy back. The dude that exactly one month ago was slashing 312/382/485/867. The dimpled tater-tot of a hit machine that evidently left his bat at the All-Star game.
Fix him, Diary, and fix him fast.
How does one wake up August 1st hitting .308 and goes to bed August 24th hitting .278? ONE extra-base hit this month, Diary!!
Of all the Mariners built to avoid such a drought, it's Ty France. Balance at the plate, knowledge of the strike zone, uses the whole field, delivers in the clutch, God & Tony Gwynn made him impervious to prolonged slumps. Didn't they?
The thing is: the team needs him, Diary. This Wild Card race isn't exactly blessed with wiggle room, and the Mariners offense isn't exactly drunk with consistent hitters. Ty is supposed to be that guy. And yet, he slumps. At the worst time, he flails. He swings at balls & takes strikes. If he's not grounding out, he's popping up. He's off. He's lost. He's not our Ty, Diary.
Fix him. You got any diary dust you can sprinkle? Got one of them pipelines directly to God? If you have access to one of them Aladdin's lamps, here's my three...
1) Unlimited wealth
2) Peace on earth
3) F*cking Fix Ty France.