I wrote this last night and I’ve cooled down a little bit. But I think it’s better to say what I meant without censoring myself so I'll present it as I wrote it fresh off of last night's heart-breaker.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt this angry about a baseball game before.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to disappointment, sadness, frustration, and, at times, utter destitution. I’m a Marlins fan. It’s kind of what we do. I’m prone to a good old Twitter rant when a Josh Simpson or Valente Bellozo type blows a game for us and I’ve definitely said some things about Brucey Boy that would make some of y’all shudder. But anger is different. It turns people into the worst versions of themselves, and I’m a family man. For as much as baseball is my favorite thing in the world, it’s never felt worth that kind of emotion- not in a truly genuine way.

But tonight, I’m angry.

I was born into Marlins fandom, swaddled in a Marlins towel in my parents’ apartment off Kendall in ’94. My only memories of my grandpa are of the two of us watching Boles’ boys at Joe Robbie in ’99. My mom’s inaugural season cola bottles sat on a high pantry shelf in every home we moved to, from Miami all the way to Austin, Texas. I take my daughters to a different city every year to watch the Marlins play. I'm flying to Kansas City in September just to watch the boys play. This team has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. As trivial as sports can seem, this means something to me.

So yeah, I have more than a little fondness for the franchise ace, Sandy Alcantara. That Cy Young season ignited something in a lot of us. It showed us the Marlins had a future when that felt very much in doubt. It showed us we could retain talent. It showed us we could have star power. When he went down with Tommy John, the future felt uncertain again. And when he came back, it was hard to watch. I’ll be the first to admit I was vocal about wanting to trade him. I didn’t think he’d bounce back. Looking back, I’m a little ashamed of that. I was so focused on the direction Bendix was taking the club that I convinced myself our old workhorse didn’t have a place anymore after a handful of bad starts. That feels foolish to write now, but that’s where I was.

The bounce-back that started in the second half of last season felt like a renaissance, like maybe the suffering was finally coming to an end. And sitting a few rows back on Opening Day this year, watching Sandy carve through the Rockies, it felt real. Following that up with a Maddux only reinforced it. Today, I sat my daughters on the couch and had them watch because they’ve never seen a complete game before and it felt like this might be their chance. Who better than El Caballo?

As the eighth inning wore on, I was biting my nails. When the first out of the ninth came, I was on my feet. Even after the double, I didn’t doubt him. Not for a second. But I knew Clayton was getting twitchy. My fear wasn’t “we might lose this game.” It was “he’s going to pull Sandy.”

One walk later, he did.

We all saw what happened next. Despite any logic or feel for the moment, Clayton went to Anthony Bender. The result was the worst-case scenario. Sandy gets a no-decision after a gem, gets charged with two runs he likely avoids if he stays in, and the bullpen blows it in humiliating fashion. Bender and Calvin Faucher failed spectacularly to have their ace’s back, continuing a weekend-long display of bullpen ineptitude. At this point, I’m just grateful John King exists to clean up everyone else’s mess. Sure, an Agustín Ramírez base hit could’ve walked it off and salvaged some dignity, but that’s not the point.

What makes me angrier than anything is this: Clayton McCullough disrespected Sandy.

I get the logic. Bender had a good year last season. On paper, he’s a ground-ball guy. One out, runner on first, tight game, Sandy nearing 100 pitches. I understand the reasoning. But this is one of those moments where you have to look up from the spreadsheet and watch the game in front of you. Your ace just opened the season with 24 scoreless innings across 3 starts. He’s rolling. Yes, there are runners on. But this is Sandy. If anyone can get out of that jam, it’s him. And honestly, I think a lot of us feel the same way: if we’re going to lose that game, I’d rather lose Sandy’s game by Sandy’s hand than hand it off in the name of process.

If your ace is on the mound in the ninth, you let him finish. Especially in April.

Pair that with Clayton’s complete lack of accountability postgame and it starts to feel like malpractice. It puts a real dent in the hope a lot of us had for this season. Because if this is how he treats Sandy in April, what are we in for in September? More Michael Petersen blown saves while we’re trying to stay in the race?

This is a rare moment of black-hole pessimism for me. There were good things in this game. I still believe in this team’s potential. But it’s hard not to feel like we might need someone else steering things in the dugout if this team is going to get where it should go.

If not for everything else, then for the worst sin of all:

Not trusting his guys when they’ve earned it.