Benitez Watch 2008
                                                        Benitez Bests Struggling Vlad

                                    By: Patrick Crawley

June 1, 2008 - Congrats, Blow-nitez, You Got Vlad At His Worst

Cheers, Armando Benitez fans. Your day has finally arrived. For the first time in a long time, the esteemed ex-closer (the man known throughout the National League merely as "Blow-nitez") has given you a moment of joy. So, what's the reason for the celebration you ask? The reason is a bottom of the ninth performance by El Husky Pants, with runners on base and two outs, that didn't end with a big fly, a hard-hit ball up the middle, or a balk to bring the losing run to the plate.

That's right, friends, on Saturday, May 31, 2008 Armando "The Human Implosion" Benitez made history. For once, he didn't blow the game.

You may never see a moment like this again, so let me set the scene for you.

It's the ninth inning of the second game in a late-May series between Benitez's Toronto Blue Jays and "Bad Vlad" Guerrero's Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. The two teams are deadlocked in a 2-2 tie, with two runners on and two outs. Toronto reliever Scott Downs has just bit the bullet, having allowed two singles in the inning. Toronto manager John Gibbons, sensing that Downs doesn't have what it takes to retire the hard-swinging Guerrero, looks anxiously to the 'pen. Who is the right pitcher for the job? Who has the resolve to get the Blue Jays out of the inning? Who has the hunger to close the door on the Angels?

When Gibbons thinks of hunger, he immediately thinks of Benitez. And before his rationale can square itself, he is calling to the bullpen for the hearty righty.

Realizing his mistake immediately, Gibbons starts sweating like Richard Simmons on crack and reaches over for a pull of Canada's best: Molson Light. What in the world made me think of Blow-nitez? he wonders aloud as starter Shaun Marcum continues to bash his head against the dugout wall. Meanwhile, Blue Jays fans everywhere immediately change the channel. They're all too horrified to watch.

Following his usual 18 warm-up pitches, Benitez comes set and delivers the first pitch, a ball, to Bad Vlad. Gibbons starts hyperventilating, but calms down once the pitching coach reminds him that Vlad hit .219 in the month of May. For the moment, The Impaler is merely a shell of his slugging self.

As if on cue, Benitez reinforces this thought by forcing Vlad to pop up weakly to third base. That's three outs! Gibbons thinks, letting his mind wander off to his happy place: a momentary vision of himself coaching the Boston Red Sox.

Crisis averted, El Husky Pants waddle jogs off the field and flags down a concessionier for a handful of Nestle ice cream sandwiches. Gibbons quickly hides the Molson behind a stack of unused Frank Thomas baseball cards and congratulates Benitez with a five-step handshake. Hunkering down on the bench, Benitez throws an eff-you smirk at Marcum and gorges himself with the delicious cookies n' cream treats.

After a scoreless top of the tenth, Gibbons wonders whether to keep Benitez in the game to face Torii Hunter. Having tempted fate once, he is scared to roll the dice again. The pitching coach turns to consult his manager. "If you leave him in the game, there's a 65% chance he'll surrender a home run," he tells Gibbons. "To hell with it," Gibbons replies and signals for Blow-nitez to take the field.

A bolt of lightning immediately shoots down from the sunny L.A. skyline and cracks the dugout roof. An omen.

Realizing his error, Gibbons instructs the bullpen catcher to begin warming up reliever Brian Tallet. Oh crap, I've angered the Baseball Gods, Gibbons thinks as fear wells up behind his eyes. He urges Tallet to hurry up and get warm already. Maybe the ump will let me make a switch before the inning starts, he muses.

But before Gibbons can make a last-ditch call to the 'pen, Benitez gathers himself and deals to Hunter. As the ball heads toward the plate on a course toward ill-fated destiny, Hunter surprises everyone by swinging and missing completely, then tipping the second pitch foul. Benitez grins ear-to-ear and smacks cookie crumbs from his hungry lips. A mad glint in his eye, he forces Hunter into a ground ball to first base to end the at-bat. No one is more surprised than Gibbons, who looks down at his road grey uniform pants. He has wet himself in the escalation of fear and anxiety.

As Gibbons continues to stare in disbelief, the pitching coach takes action. Realizing the horrible implications of leaving the Human Ticking Time Bomb in the game, he nealry trips over himself in the rush to get Tallet in from the 'pen. At the sight of the lefty reliever jogging across the field to the mound, Toronto's fielders fall to their knees in relief. Gibbons' breathing goes back to normal. He calmly uses his own saliva to erase the suicide hotline number penned to his palm. Never again, he thinks. Never again.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the Benitez Watch likes to imagine El Husky Pants' otherwise non-descript late-game appearance on Saturday night. It may seem dramaticized to you. But if you're a Giants fan, or a Mets fan, or a Yankees fan, or a new-generation Marlins fan, you know that this account is probably more truth than fiction.

And while we're predominantly anti-Benitez here in The Deli, we can certainly appreciate the good people who comprise the Blown-nitez fan club. Saturday's performance was for you, the troubled few. In true Benitez fashion, you must all celebrate by eating platefuls of meat and rich desserts until your stomach slumps over your belt like Peter Griffin.

Go ahead, let it all hang out. Benitez will be proud.

For the previous entry in the Benitez Watch 2008 gamelog, click here.

 

 

 

 

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For more info on Armando Benitez, check back later this week for more of Benitez Watch 2008.