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Cleveland stumbles into July on losing end of doubleheader sweep

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I know you’re not actually reading this at 12:45 a.m. because who in their right mind would be doing that right now?

Detroit Tigers v Cleveland Indians - Game Two Photo by Ron Schwane/Getty Images

Good morning, sleepyhead. Your favorite baseball team lost last night. I’m sorry. It was 7-1, a horrendous night capped by sleepy baseball and prolonged camera shots of a sparse crowd doing whatever they could to stay awake as the calendar rolled over to July.

Don’t let his ugly line fool you — Logan Allen didn’t look too bad, all things considered. Sure, he gave up two earned runs in 3.2 inningsand was pulled after it was clear he was slipping after 70 pitches. And he didn’t miss many bats, but he induced a lot of weak contact and located well, with his four-seamer inducing six called strikes, and his curveball adding another four. All of this after being sent down to the minors, getting absolutely rocked in a few starts, being sidelined with shoulder inflammation, and not pitching for over two weeks. He’s back and he’s adequate. I’ll take it.

Nick Sandlin got himself into trouble by loading the bases with a hit and a pair of walks, but he got out of it. In general, the reliever usage in this game seemed more in line with a normal game. Sandlin, followed by Nick Wittgren, Emmanuel Clase, and James Karinchak to close it out. Not sure why they weren’t used in that order in a much closer Game 1 but hey whatever, man.

The offense mustered just three hits total, including a Bradley Zimmer triple — his second extra-base hit of the season and second in the last 24 hours. In contrast to slipping and falling in his first fielding attempt of Game 1, Zimmer also made an incredible catch.

This game sucked, this whole day sucked, and I’m ready to go to bed but at least José Ramírez doesn't appear to be seriously hurt after taking a foul ball to the face in Game 1. He returned in the fourth inning after a quick trip to the hospital to make sure his squishy head meat wasn’t ruined by the baseball.

Look those little cheeks, ever-so-slightly chubbier than before, roaming the dugout.