There is a comfortable inevitability to a Tuesday night game against the A’s. Sometimes we get lucky, and it is transcendent. Other times it’s awful. Sometimes Tuesday night matters to the A’s, other times to the Mariners. Rarely does it matter to both. More often than not, a Tuesday night game against the A’s is simply a trickle from the tap into our sink of memory.
George Kirby stood atop the ramshackle pitcher’s mound for five innings tonight. Ramshackle because, despite its regulation size and shape, it still manages to bedraggled on screen, the uneven sandiness and clods scattered about seeming to absorb the franchise ownership’s malignant apathy.