The Mash finish the Philadelphia phlog

Torres (72) just beats Francoeur to the pad after Murphy (28) caught the ricochet off Torres's foot and shoveled it to the hustling pitcher.

Torres (72) just beats Francoeur to the pad after Murphy (28) caught the ricochet off Torres’s foot and shoveled it to the hustling pitcher.

It got this bad for the Phillies this week when the New York Mash (er, Mets) came to town and blew them away in a four-game sweep: interim manager Pete Mackinin came to the postgame press conference after Thursday night’s thrashing armed with numbers. And, with the baleful conclusion, “We’re giving up way too many runs.”

Four days, forty-nine runs—these are the good old days for the New York Mash (er, Mets)

First Show swing in 133 days, and that ball's ticketed for the second deck . . .

First Show swing in 133 days, and that ball’s ticketed for the second deck . . .

If Jacob deGrom ever had a speck of doubt that his teammates could and would have his back, that speck was obliterated Monday night. It’s not every pitcher—at his level or otherwise—who can have a rare putrid start, leave his team in the hole by five, and then watch with his own jaw joining every other one hitting the floor in Citizens Bank Park as his Mets did to the Phillies what, not so long ago, the Phillies did to their opposition with long-since-gone aplomb.

These days make a fellow proud to be an Astro

Altuve got to abuse one of his favourite patsies over the weekend . . .

Altuve got to abuse one of his favourite patsies over the weekend . . .

How good does it get for the Astros these days? Good enough, apparently, that a slowly swelling cabal of analysts think they—not the Yankees, not the Blue Jays, not the Royals—are the American League’s team to beat. They didn’t say that about the Astros in their best years in the National League.

Now, the Astros are a team that likes to go out on the town
We like to drink and fight and f@ck till curfew comes around
Then it’s time to make the trek
We’d better be back to buddy’s check
It makes a fellow proud to be an Astro.

Ben Cherington’s strange Red Sox tenure ends

Cherington, who misread the Red Sox's biggest offseason needs, wouldn't stay aboard Dombrowski's ship to be.

Cherington, who misread the Red Sox’s biggest offseason needs, wouldn’t stay aboard Dombrowski’s ship to be.

With their season looking lost for long enough, it didn’t exactly kill the Red Sox to make a big move. Going nowhere fast enough in 2015, then given the body blow of manager John Farrell’s battle with lymphoma and president Larry Lucchino saying he’d leave at season’s end, the Red Sox could go nowhere but forward in making any big change.

Dosvedanya, Dombrowski

Dombrowski hoisting one of the Tigers' AL pennant trophies.

Dombrowski hoisting one of the Tigers’ AL pennant trophies.

First, the Tigers all but threw the proverbial towel in on 2015 when they unloaded three otherwise key parts at the non-waiver trade deadline. Then, they showed they weren’t kidding by letting general manager Dave Dombrowski go just months before his current contract would expire.

“They basically told me they decided to change direction of leadership in the organization,” Dombrowski told the Detroit Free Press a day later. ”It’s kind of like an end of an era. You never like to see it end.” But he said he saw it end when his assistant GM Al Avila showed up at the ballpark Tuesday and looked as though something just wasn’t right.

The Royals need their diapers changed

Boys will be boys, but little by little, piece by piece, the Kansas City Royals seem determined to prove they can set a record for going from Cinderella boys one season (2014) to public enemy number one with their dirty diapers the next. If their weekend in Toronto is any suggestion, losing two of three to the Jays won’t prove half as significant as will the Royals finishing 2015 as either the single most hated team in baseball or one of the top three.

The NL East race tightens up, Du-da, Du-da . . .

Duda doesn't mind making you pay one bit for your skipper's brain farts . . .

Duda doesn’t mind making you pay one bit for your skipper’s brain farts . . .

All the Mets had to do to get power hitting but often inconsistent Lucas Duda back in gear was bring aboard Kelly Johnson and Juan Uribe and have manager Terry Collins let Duda know, no questions asked, that it was time to produce runs now or the Mets, somehow, would get someone else. And all Duda did was look the boss right in the eye and say, “I got it.”

. . . And, there’s a little ill-placed ill-will in a certain clubhouse

Is Wilson's elbow spurring a little internal Angel friction?

Is Wilson’s elbow spurring a little internal Angel friction?

Unless you’re Mike Trout, even on a day during which you got iced by Clayton Kershaw sustaining a scoreless inning streak, it must suck to be a Los Angeles Angel these days. Even when you’re in the thick of the American League West races despite being swept by the now-first-place Astros before dropping the first two against the Dodgers.