Elderly Pitcher Blows the Save

Presented by: The Top of the 10th — Your Drive-Home Recap with Cigarettes, Cynicism, and the Cold Hard Box Score

[Cue vintage organ jingle]

David Gibraltar here, folks — and you’re listening to Top of the 10th, the only postgame radio show sponsored by Lucky Strike, Eisenhower’s ghost, and a slowly unraveling democracy. With me, as always, is my co-host, the Flaying Dishman himself — Horus Whanger.

Horus, what did we just witness out there?

HORUS WHANGER (gravelly, as if gargling gravel and bourbon):
Well, Dave, the ballgame’s in the refrigerator. The door’s closed. The lights are off. The cheese has molded, and the milk’s sour. But what stinks worst of all is that President Joe Biden blew the save harder than a Pop Warner closer on Red Bull and daddy issues.

GIBRALTAR:
That’s right, Horus. For those just tuning in — and shame on you for missing what might be the last regulation political ballgame of our lifetimes — here’s the recap:

We were up by 2. Trump had been benched. The field was muddy, sure, but morale was high. The crowd was still chanting “Yes We Can” with one hoarse lung. And then… out came Biden.

FIRST PITCH: A VINTAGE VIBE

He took the field like a man who’s played this game since they used mitts made of cowhide and aspirin. The stadium rose. The crowd clapped. Even Fox News held its sneer for a full seven seconds.

And for a hot minute, he had it.
Couple of clean pitches. A relief bill here. A jab rollout there.
He looked like he might close it.

But then, folks… the limp started.

HORUS:
Now, Dave, I ain’t a doctor, but I’ve seen enough failed ACLs and Thanksgiving bloats to recognize a man walking like the ghost of his own lumbar support. That wasn’t a stride. That was a geriatric waddle into national decline.

GIBRALTAR:
Couldn’t agree more, Horus. Each pitch got softer. The wind-up turned into a whimper. Between every throw, he’d wander the mound like he was looking for the Declaration of Independence behind second base.

And then the crowd noticed — the grimace.

That unmistakable “there’s something going wrong back there” look. Not pain from the game. No, folks. That was tailbone betrayal. A gluteal mutiny. A signal flare from the rear.

SECOND PITCH: THE BASES LOAD

Republicans loaded the bases without swinging. Roe overturned. Climate bills stalled. Student debt forgiveness delayed like your drunk uncle’s Uber.

And Joe?

He checked his notes. He had a cheat sheet to remind him who was at bat.

You can’t close a game with a crib sheet and a chiropractor. That’s not strategy. That’s cosplaying functionality.

HORUS:
And Dave, don’t forget — Kamala Harris was in the dugout, cracking sunflower seeds with her teeth and watching her chances die in real-time. She wasn’t allowed to warm up. She couldn’t even look at the mound too long without being accused of sedition.

THE BOOK DROP: THE REAL KICKER

GIBRALTAR:
And just when you thought the game couldn’t end with more disgrace — they dropped the stage four cancer reveal in a pre-release for his memoir.

Not from the White House.
Not in a press conference.
In a goddamn book club email blast.

Horus, they hid his medical reality the way you hide bourbon in the choir room. And they waited until after the loss to tell the American people, “Hey, by the way, he had a terminal condition the whole time. Wanna read about it?”

HORUS:
It’s like finding out your team’s closer was pitching with a cracked rib and three scorpions in his jockstrap — after he walked in the winning run.

CLOSING THOUGHTS FROM THE BOOTH

GIBRALTAR:
Folks, here’s the reality. The game’s over. The Democrats lost in extra innings because they trotted out a pitcher who should’ve been on the Injured Reserved list with a Netflix password and a rocking chair.

And now? Trump’s back on the field with a flamethrower and a new haircut. He’s pitching to the Supreme Court from center field and the scoreboard’s just showing a middle finger and a countdown to martial law.

HORUS:
And the real tragedy?
We had the game in the bag.
All they had to do was pull the guy when his foot dragged. But they left him out there.
They watched him hobble and mutter and squint into the sun like a Civil War reenactor with sciatica.

BROUGHT TO YOU BY...

GIBRALTAR:
This postgame breakdown was brought to you by Chesterfield Cigarettes — now with 17% more lung regret. And by the National Democratic Committee, who remind you: “When in doubt, double down on denial.”

HORUS:
Join us next week when we cover the first 100 days of Trump’s second term, currently being drafted by QAnon influencers and hedge fund managers in a Miami Applebee’s.

GIBRALTAR:
Until then, keep your gloves oiled, your expectations low, and your passports valid.

This has been Top of the 10th with David Gibraltar and Horus Whanger. Biden blew the save. And America’s bullpen is full of dust.