So, honestly, do you want a recap of that game? Really? Okay. Fine.
Julio Teheran pitched pretty damned well. His only rough patch was the third inning, which never should have happened at all. He gave up a single, then Gerado Parra popped out to the infield, but no one thought “huh, I should catch that.” So instead, it was a “double.” Then some person whose parents actually named him “Didi Gregorius,” intentionally I suppose, singled in two runs.
The problem being, of course, that some child named Patrick Corbin, who is two years younger than Guns ‘n Roses’ Appetite for Destruction by the way, did essentially the same thing for the D-Backs. Only he was gritty and determined and Kirk Gibson taught him to know how to win or something, so he didn’t have that “hey, let’s not catch the popup to the mound” moment, and so the Braves lost 2-0.
So that was the game, really. Feel good about Teheran putting up another really good start. Feel bad about getting shut down by whomever the hell “Patrick Corbin” is. Mull over, in your spare time, the fact that the Braves are now essentially even stevens recordwise with the “need more grit, less Upton” Diamondbacks we’ve been mocking all offseason.
Now, let’s talk about something important instead.
Who the hell names a child Didi Gregorious? Is he the older sister from Dexter’s Lab or a 15th century monk? How can he be both? Does he wear pink bows in his tonsure? Is he creepily stalked by Mandark, but in a weirdly homoerotic manner now? Why would you do that to a child? I mean, you might be stuck with Gregorious as a last name, and I get the whole “we’re from the Dutch Antilles, we have really goofy, not-normal names down here! We’re crazy Kingdom of the Dutch out the wazzoo!” thing. But seriously. Didi? Didi Gregorious?!
I do not approve. Though, given that his full name is Mariekson Julius Gregorius… Why, parents? Why?!