Smells Like Padres in Here - Tuesday Edition
Smells Like Padres in Here - Tuesday Edition
Bell likes cookies. We call him Cookie Monster from now on, right?
Here's a news flash. Marcus is struggling.
There was some mention of Shawn Estes yesterday. He'll be pitching in Lake Elsinore on Friday.
This is pretty much exactly how I feel about the Chicken.
Jake vs. Hernandez tonight.
This FanPost was written by a member of the Gaslamp Ball community and does not necessarily reflect the views of the Gaslamp Ball managers or SB Nation.
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On the Padres.com post-cap
I don't mind a knuckleball here and there.
That makes Barrett's night even more remarkable! I like this guy.
For all the talk about Bradley and Barrett being bad clubhouse guys, we sure got two guys that hustle and play the game hard.
Great Chicken Story
Yeah, the Chicken is good times
by matthewverygood on Jul 17, 2007 9:33 AM PDT reply actions
the chicken...
can we get an interview with your dad?
I'll certainly ask...
I asked him, "why don't you just sue him for the money? You are a lawyer after all."
And he explained that as soon as you try to collect, the client will slap you with a malpractice lawsuit, which, no matter how frivolous, were a lot more trouble than 10 grand.
Plus, it's also highly likely that he'll respond, "what's a blog?"
Plus
by Winfield's Ghost on Jul 17, 2007 8:46 PM PDT up reply actions
the chicken is great
I can get the chicken to pay
I love
by TheThirdGonzalez on Jul 17, 2007 10:18 AM PDT reply actions
I love that too
by padresgirlforlife44 on Jul 17, 2007 10:51 AM PDT up reply actions
Bowen's been traded again
He went like 2 for 32 as a Cub, and was designated for assignment before this deal. Wish him continued success as he's reunited with Piazza.
I'd heard of this chicken...
I got my little bobble-head chicken pin which had the gas "76" sign on the card it was attached to.
Around the third inning I saw the "76" sign come up on the scoreboard and I stood up, leaning over the railing, yelling... "the chicken is coming, the chicken is coming" as I scoured the ballpark looking for his entrance. I turned around, shit-eating grin on my face, to a sea of blank stares and I remembered I had come to the ballgame alone. I pointed and, much quieter this time "the chicken is coming...".
Despite their nonchalance and "who's-that-weirdo-faces" in minutes they too were laughing hysterically.

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