Tonight Vince Velasquez countenanced his eternal grimace against the samsonite shag flowing from the Unpronounceable Pentagrammaton (GSLMN). The duo captained a biblical battle between two minor tribes destined to be conquered by a greater regional empire, like the Cubs, eventually. But for now we poor peasants must slog through this wearying rivalry, worn down by equal parts frustration and contempt.
Velasquez was far from perfect tonight, but he gave us reason to hope. As you well know and I have carped for seemingly innumerable Vinnie-recaps, he tends to nibble with power pitches, get into deep count after deep count, rely heavily on walks and strikeouts, and fear contact.