April Showers Post Mortem

Reading through the fairly standard What-Have-We-Learned-After-One-Month blogs and off day stories, I was struck by this note in @stewardsfolly's Sunday postgamer:

OK, so April wound up 12-10. Not bad, considering an 0-3 start, a struggling ace, a lost closer, a projected starting second baseman who never played and Aubrey Huff’s ineffectual start and subsequent anxiety issues.

Makes you think, don't it? Wasn't this year supposed to be easier?

Hadn't Los Gigantes kicked the injury bug that plagued them throughout 2011 after successfully avoiding major trips to the trainer's table in the Year of Glory 2010?

Wasn't Aubrey Huff supposed to rebound with his typically inflated even-year production after stealing the Rally Thong back from the Hall of Fame?

Didn't Dave Groeschner find a magic potion to heal Freddy Sanchez of his San-Francisco-itis once and for all?

Devil or Angel?

There are trades that drive you nuts — like you just caught your girlfriend with another dude — and there are trades that give you perma-grin — like you just caught your girlfriend with another girl, and they asked you to join the party. But then there are trades that are necessary, trades that are surgical, trades that are so businesslike that they would fall under the radar if we weren't refreshing our Twitter feeds every five sec... Hold on... Okay, where was I? Right, let's call them "trades of convenience".

The Giants weren't bringing back Andres the Giant — much as we'll miss him. They would like to have kept Ramirez, but as has been noted in many other places on the interwebs, they're pretty deep as far as right-handed relief. And Angel Pagan fills a genuine need. Again, nothing to poop your pants over, but another solid move in an offseason where Brian Sabean has had to get creative. With the Care Baer in charge, it's back to brass tacks. The hangover is, well, over.

Second verse, same as the first...

Can't believe it's been two weeks since I last spoke to you in more than 140-character bursts. Oh, well, that's the life I lead. As everyone else begins to relax and take a little vacay, I tend to get busy keeping myself organized. Probably why I love baseball so much. It feeds right into my obsessive compulsions. There's no shortage of stats or highlights or sabermetrics to keep my mind occupied until the wee morning hours as I stare out the window wondering... "Do I dare to eat a peach?"

This, of course, is a very long-winded — Dickensian, if you will — manner of apologizing for leaving you hanging. But then again, I sincerely doubt you lacked for online entertainment in my absence from the blogosphere. There are, as I've discovered, other baseball blogs out there. Besides, the mini-hiatus gave me time to come to a few epiphanies about our 2011 San Francisco Giants, and damned if I don't feel a little lighter in the shoulder region. I'll share them with you now in the stead of another cookie-cutter midseason report...

A Tale of Two Bochys

Way back in September of '97, as the Giants were hurtling toward an eventual National League West pennant, two days after Brian Johnson's epic dance around the bases at the 'Stick, smack in the middle of taking three of four from the Fathers at ol' Jack Murphy Stadium — when that was still its name — the Giants played an absolute stinker. It was, for all intents and purposes, an all-too-common brain fart in an otherwise memorable season.

It's safe to say the '97 Giants took their share of beatings. 16 times they gave up 10 runs or more, including four 15-plus spots, two 11-0 losses to the Hated Ones, and a 19-3 shellacking by Felipe Alou's Expos. But the 12-2 drubbing they absorbed at the hands of Bruce Bochy's Padres on September 20th was significant for two reasons: 1. It was my first game in San Diego. 2. My favorite pitcher at the time, the great Shawn Estes... got lit the f*** up.

I'd driven down on my own after failing to convince any friends to join me. I was flying high on the Brian Johnson Kool-Aid, and cocky enough to think I could find a sports stadium without the help of, you know, a map. (Mind you, this was 10 years before the introduction of the Google Maps app.)  Needless to say, when I pulled off I-5 in Downtown San Diego, the game was just getting underway. As I stopped for directions and tuned in to the Padres flagship, Estes was already in trouble, Greg Vaughn was about to have a very good day, and I was about to embark on a journey through the Southern California suburban wilderness...

Countdown to Scottsdale #4: Andrés Torres, OF

I sing the song of Andrés Torres, who resurrected his career in the orange and black, and left it all on the field — including his appendix — as the Giants made their run to Left Coast immortality. I had a dream last night that the Giants hadn't re-signed the 2010 Willie Mac Award winner, and he'd just inked a two-year deal with the Mets. Needless to say, I had a panic attack and woke in a cold sweat to the comforting reality that Andrés is indeed on contract to play at McCovey Cove this season. Why do I bother to bring this up? I mean, this ain't no place for me to work out my personal affairs...

Well, the thing is, after I woke up and went to sit on the shitter for a minute, I got to wondering: would the same dream about any other player outside of the Golden Children of the starting rotation give me the same amount of willies? Truth is, I don't know. The common perception is that the 2010 Giants were greater than the sum of their parts, that everybody overachieved at the right time and all the pieces fell into place and whatever other cliché you can think of that basically says each player played an equal part in the team's success. Well, what if the magic juice the Giants drank right around September 1st of last year all came from the same cup? And what if that cup had a big ol' Mr. T necklace?

If you've ever seen Andrés Torres give a postgame interview, you know it's all about love. He loves his teammates. He loves the fans. Most of all, he loves baseball, and it shows on the field. Nobody works harder. Nobody runs harder. Nobody plays the field with more reckless abandon. He truly is the Gazelle in centerfield, gracefully gliding between the Water Buffaloes to the spot where he anticipates the ball will come down, stopping on a dime, and depositing every scorching liner in the webbing of his mitt. In 2010, he was the ultimate five-tooler at the top of the lineup — .268, .823 OPS, 56 BB, 26 SB in 570 PAs, 1 error and 7 assists in the field — and he started the year on the bench! Not only that, he's got one lovely wife. If I was him, I probably would've stolen the mic from Jon Miller at the championship rally, too. "Thank you for coming to Andrés Torres' wife's birthday party!"

When he went down with a ruptured appendix in September, I ragged on him a bit. I have a real problem with athletes taking the "tough guy" mentality way too far. Playing through pain is one thing when you've got a bruised rib or a hip pointer or any manner of injury you can't treat other than by getting all hopped up on pain meds. But to put off a trip to the ER when your gut is on fire for two weeks straight is sheer lunacy. Yes, it all worked out in the finish. Andres got better and came around just in time to help the Giants win a little thing called the World Series, but it could have been much, much worse... You can talk about "manning up" all you want. If it was me, and my life depended on my ability to play baseball at the height of my talent, I'd be getting every hang nail checked out. But hey, that's me.

Then again, if I were Andrés Torres, and I'd spent three years of my life out of Major League Baseball, kicking around god knows where in the Minor Leagues — well, thanks to B-R, we know he was in Oklahoma, Rochester, Erie, Toledo, Iowa, Arizona, and San Jose — I might be afraid to do anything that might change the roll I was on in 2010. Who knows what can happen when you go to the doctor? Maybe you find out something you didn't care to know, or maybe something you knew all along but couldn't define. I've got a fear of medical offices and hospitals. Had it all my life, really. So I understand where the dude's coming from. But even I'm know enough to recognize when the pain ain't going away... Oh well, what doesn't kill you makes you stranger, right?

Gracias, Andrés.

Announcing the 2010 Butchies

While everybody's talking, bitching, moaning, cheering, jeering, analyzing, prognosticating, writing, blogging, and tweeting surrounding this morning's release of the Giants' 25-man NLDS roster, let's take a minute to look back and recognize the heroes who brought us to this nerve-wracking and yet somewhat satisfying moment...

Most Valuable Offensive Player: Aubrey Huff

Yes, yes, I know. Some guy named Buster. Look, I hate the argument made by ROY voters that Jason Heyward put up strong numbers over a longer period of time — despite the fact that Buster's projected numbers blow Heyward's out of the park — but I have to give this to the guy who's been our most consistent contributor all season long. Dude led the team in ABs, home runs, and rally thongs, and his discerning eye at the plate yielded a higher OBP than our rookie backstop. That's not to mention he carried this offense in April and May. For a cast-off player making $3M on a team that made him their second or third choice, you cant deny the impact Huff Daddy has had on your 2010 Giants.

Most Valuable Defensive Player: Andres Torres

Not much internal debate on this one, though Buster should receive honorable mention for his stellar work behind the plate from July 1st on. Andres the Giant has been the gazelle of the Giants outfield, the perfect counterpoint to water buffaloes in the corners like Pat Burrell and Aubrey Huff. Even on an average, can-of-corn fly ball, he sprints to the spot where he thinks the ball will land and calmly puts it away with two hands. No showboating and unnecessary dives, no misjudged routes to balls, just pure, old fashioned, error-free play up the middle. On a team supposedly built around pitching and defense, the 2010 Willie Mac Award winner was the cornerstone of the latter.

Most Valuable Starting Pitcher: Matt Cain

You can't argue with this. Shotgun was quite simply the most consistent — and consistently dominant — of the Giants incomparable starters. He led the staff in IP as well as WHIP (beating out Dirty Sanchez), threw four complete games and two shutouts, and posted a 3.14 ERA doing it. While Big Time Timmy Jim was floundering with his mechanics over the Summer, Cain was the Giants' horse, regularly pitching deep into games, often with very little run support, and holding his own against some of the league's best starters. Yes, when the chips were down in the final series with the Fathers, he wet the bed and Dirty shined. But over 162 games, there's nobody I'd rather have next to me in the fox hole than Matty Cain.

Most Valuable Relief Pitcher: Brian Wilson

Weezy's the heart of the 'Pen, and he served as its anchor in a year of turmoil, turnover, and triumph, eventually tying Shooter's club record with his 48th save in an instant-classic Game 162. Whether sporting a faux hawk, a real hawk, or a jet black beard that could never — should never — grow on the face of a blonde surfer dude, Wilson is the epitome of what a closer should be: fearless, fearsome, and — at least from an outside perspective — totally bats**t insane. That's why we love him, and that's why he's the rock of the relief corps. Everyone down there had their doldrums this year, but Weezy held it down from start to finish. He can pitch my ninth inning any day, and I'll buy him a shot and a beer after.

Most Valuable Mid-Season Addition: (tie) Buster Posey & Pat Burrell

Okay, fine, I made this one up. But some credit for the success of the 2010 Giants must go to these two very different individuals. By now, we all know about Buster, and so much will be written about him in the weeks and months and years ahead that it seems redundant for me to write another word. Suffice it to say that this club and our chances this season would be nowhere near what they are were it not for Brian Sabean making a fortuitous call to Fresno on May 29th. As for "The Bat", there are no words to describe the emotions coursing through my veins while I watched Pat nearly choke up during Sunday's postgame locker room insanity. How would it feel to go from sitting on your couch, seemingly unwanted despite the talent you know still lurks in your body and soul, to hitting seven lead-changing home runs for your childhood team in its most successful season in seven years? I don't know about you, but that would make me cry too. The fact that we went to high school together has no bearing on this award. Pat earned this on the strength of his performance, and no matter how far the club goes this October, his heroic deeds will not soon be forgotten. (And he plays a pretty mean left field when the chips are down!)

Enjoy the game tonight everybody, from wherever you may be watching. As always, I'll be that obnoxious guy at the top of Section 104, tooting my kazoo and hoping Derek Lowe's sinker stays flat enough for Aaron Rowand to square it up. I don't plan to "enjoy" much of anything until this is all over, but I'll do my best to keep smilin'... even if I'm faking it.

156 down. 6 to go.

It comes to this. One week of desperately trying to avoid a heart attack and knowing it's a losing proposition. After all, it's been six years. How exactly is one supposed to react under these circumstances? I find myself pondering what life in September must be like for fans of teams like the Pirates, who haven't won diddly squat (or even bothered to post a winning record) in 18 years. Football season. That's what it feels like. Not here. The Niners are garbage. The Raiders are... the Raiders. The A's are playing out the string. And the W's and Sharks have yet to begin their respective marches toward inevitable heartache, regret, and mediocrity. (Just sayin'.) Yes, your San Francisco Giants have a unique opportunity to usurp the collective sports consciousness of the Bay Area for the next five weeks. The last team from these environs to play in their league's postseason was the Warriors. I know. Scary, right? It's been one sad state of affairs for jock junkies in this neck of the woods, and it's a shame. After all, we have everything else going for us: culture, diversity, climate, politics — why not a successful sports franchise, or hell, just one bloody season in the sun. That's all we ask. For Giants fans, it's the ultimate existential question: If our team can finally find a way to overcome the Ides of October and end up hoisting the cool trophy with all the pennants on it, will we be satisfied? Will we walk away into the sunset, never again to set foot in a major league baseball park, our wildest dreams fulfilled, ready to experience what life has to offer beyond the chalk lines and $8 brats? Will our family get to see us again at birthdays and holidays and graduations? Will our friends be able to discuss subjects with us that don't revolve around the designated hitter or the infield fly rule? Will we stop wearing our beat-down ball caps to weddings and high-fiving fellow fans at political fundraisers? Will we ever, truly, be sane? The answer, of course, is "No." Because we can never get enough, you see? One championship feeds the hunger for another. Take Red Sox fans as an example. Two championships in three years, and they're still the bitterest, saddest, most depressingly paranoid body of people on this planet — and anyone who came to the interleague series at the Cove in June knows exactly what I'm talking about. That's us, people. Two or three years removed from that mythical Giants championship, we'll be just the same: mumbling to ourselves about what could have been, should have been, would have been. If only... if only... But for that one October, it truly would be magic inside. Of course, this year, the World Series is scheduled to stretch into November, unless somebody sweeps. But you get the point. Don't you?

BTW...

> Everybody seems to be talking about the starting rotation. Urbs says "Let's push Tim Lincecum back so he starts the Padres series and Zito goes against the D'backs." Baggs says, "Let's move Timmy up so he's available to pitch Game 163 on regular rest." Chalk me up with the guys on the bench, who don't seem inclined to change a thing. Like Baggs concludes here, why mess with a staff that's held opponents to 3 or fewer runs in 19 of the last 20 games? Of course, Baggs later reported that Brian Sabean was on KNBR yesterday talking about the possibility of migrating Big Time Timmy Jim to have him rested for a one-game playoff. So who the hell knows what's going to happen? I can tell you this much: Whether the Giants are playing baseball or golf next week has more to do with one player than any other: Jonathan "Dirty" Sanchez, who will likely start two of the final six games, regardless of how the rotation shakes out. Would it be any Giants fan's ideal to have Dirty on the mound with the season on the line this Sunday afternoon at the Cove? No, but we may have to endure it anyway. And given his recent success and lifetime numbers against the Padres, we shouldn't be that worried. But we are. After all, this is the Giants we're talking about here...

> How hard is Andres Torres? Dude plays for two weeks with appendicitis, then sits for a grand total of 12 days before returning Friday night — and starting Saturday! He even blasted one into the Rockies bullpen to prove that our own private Roy Hobbs was back in the saddle again. Of course, he tweaked himself pretty good, playing hard like he always does, but I wouldn't expect anything less. Would I have preferred that he check himself into the hospital at the first twinge of pain? Yes. Would I prefer that he not retake the field until he's absolutely 100% without a doubt healthy as the day he was born? Por supuesto. Is there anything me or Bruce Bochy or the entire 40-man roster can do to keep him from playing? Not likely. So let it be, Butch. Let it be...

> How sweet was it to watch Matt Cain drive the final nail into the Rockies' coffin, in their own park, no less? Granted, we took our lumps in Saturday's roller coaster loss. But what would a trip to Denver be without some good ol' fashioned Coors Field anguish? And by the time we left town, the Purple People were a deflated bunch — I even heard Dinger was sobbing his eyes out in the clubhouse. Why does it feel good to beat these guys? I posit that the Rockies are becoming one of the Giants' most heated rivals. They'll never overtake Los Doyers for sheer spite and instinctive hatred, but the more Neifi Perez/Ryan Spilborghs/Troy Tulowitzki backbreakers we endure at the hands of these upstarts, the more I want to pulverize their hopes and dreams with every chance we get...

See you at the Cove. Don't forget to follow me on Twitter for live updates from Section 104...

135 down. 27 to go.

Chad Billingsley is not related to Barbara Billingsley, so far as I know, but Mrs. Cleaver's namesake certainly knows how to make mincemeat out of los Gigantes. Looking at it objectively, our boys got one-hit tonight, and they were lucky the hit came with two runners in scoring position, or they may have been shut out too. Another Friday night, another wasted Padres loss. We simply can't expect the Fathers to continue to deteriorate. We need to win some games in big chunks. Now is the time, if there ever were one. Would've been nice to start the roadie off with a W, but every now and again, each of us runs into our own personal Chad Billingsleys. For some of us, it's the DMV, for others, the IRS, and for some unlucky souls, it's a local parking attendant. For the Giants pitching staff, it's Rod Barajas. But the secret to success does not consist of regret. It requires a short memory, a stout spirit, and a hang loose attitude. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: this team has all of that in spades. And since I know that — win or lose — they have the heart of a champion, I believe the boys will rebound tonight and lay waste to Los Angeles, particularly Casey Blake, who is quite the douche bag. They better, 'cause I'm cutting my band rehearsal short to make it home in time for first pitch.

BTW...

> Andres Torres looked straight up lost out there last night, but he wasn't alone. Didn't seem like anybody had a clue aside from Busta Posey, who added to his ROY resume with a clutch two-run knock, and Pat Burrell, who walked twice. (It would've been thrice were it not for a few questionable strike calls.) Back to the point: A.T. is in a bit of a slump, and the offensive engine don't work without the spark plug...

>  Jose Guillen. Yikes. Dude got screwed on a called third strike that was, well, not a strike. But he may have been thinking about what could've been a shoestring catch on Billingsley's two-out, two-strike, two-run single in the 4th. Bottom line: even if Zito gets out of that inning — which he probably didn't deserve to do — the offense still had to get another run, and they looked woefully incapable of delivering.

> What's up, Barry? You usually start out like shit and go lights out in the second half. This year seems like you're going in reverse. Not cool, dude. We need you down the stretch. Nice effort from the bullpen. Four shutout innings with very little trouble, ahem, Santiago Casilla, ahem...

Round two. #BeatLA!

134 down. 28 to go.

Here's the thing about Monday's game...

It's irrelevant. Yeah, I know what I said on the Twitter thingie. I said a lot of things that night on the Twitter thingie. Another one of the things had something to do with not playing the Blame Game. So let's not play the blame game. Let's look objectively at what happened:

• Carlos Gonzales broke his bat after hitting a ball fairly square on a good part of the wood — he said himself after the game he was surprised the bat broke.

• Consequently, Cody Ross broke in — justifiably — before adjusting and in the end coming up short. Do I think Nasty Nate would have made the same gut read on the ball? Yes. Do I think he has better closing speed than Cody Ross? Maybe. Do I think he would have caught the ball? No.

• Of course, Freddy Sanchez compounded the weirdness by triple-hopping a throw that, had it not been right on line to Pablo Sandoval, would not have hit Gonzales in the arm and flown into the stands. But it was on line, just low. Game over.

These things happen. As my buddy Alex opined on his Twitter thingie: "It would be super if Freddy Sanchez could figure out how to hit and field at the same time." I'll take the hits any day, and especially on a day when we only give Dirty one run of support. What a workout.
—— 

On Tuesday's Giants-Rockies tilt:

You know, the local media seems to be picking up this narrative of the Giants as a team that lacks an identity. Personally, I think they're all on crack, and this game is a bright shining example as to why.

The 2010 Gigantes are the Teflon Team. They're as resilient as Silly Putty. If the 2010 Giants were an ice cream flavor, they would most certainly be Rocky Road, but the good kind, with just enough marshmallows to make you crave another bite.
—— 

Three cheers for Darren Ford! 

And cheers to Alex Pavlovic, one of the unsung heroes of the Giants beat, for his work in relief of Señor Extra Baggs. Check out his notes on Darren's debut. Am I trippin', or was that kid playing in San José last year? Wait... oh, right.

Critical win for the team. Existential victory for Big Time Timmy Jim. And a sleepless night's worth of "What if's" for one Ubaldo Jimenez. Seriously, if that kid don't win the Cy this year, there ain't no justice in baseball. Meaning he probably won't.

And me? I had to watch it all transpire on my iPhone. It's a cross I have to bear for being "engaged": MFTs* of events, networking, drinking, more networking, and occasionally getting things done that can, you know, help people. Oh snap, now I'm bitching. Back to the rawhide, shall we?
——

BTW...

> I freaking love Andres Torres, not in a man crush kinduva way, more like I want to buy him a case of whatever liquor he fancies. Dude is ripping it up out of the clear blue sky, both for my real team, and my fantasy team. I'd nominate him for Comeback Player of the Year, but he never really got a shot in the first place. Listen to me now: Take your kid to the park. Point out Andres Torres. Make sure they watch him the whole game. That's how you play this game — like there's a fire in your soul and ice in your veins.

> Speaking of #TeamHopeyChangey, we were well represented by los Gigantes in this series. Both Dirty and Timmy turned in fine performances above and beyond recently-lowered expectations, and A.T. went nuts at the plate and in the field. We're not exactly shaking up the standings, but we're steadily making a push for the money. Fingers crossed.

> Yeah, I know. We could "What if" ourselves to death. I think I said that, or maybe it was some other jackass blogger. Anyway... The Padres have lost seven straight games. Bolly for us. We've managed to claw back within 3 games of the West lead. Again, bolly for us. Could the G's have done a better job of dispatching the Reds last Wednesday and the D-backs over the weekend? Maybe so, maybe not. They're both lighting up all comers right now. All I'm sayin' is if our boys had TCOB, we'd be a lot closer to the promised land, and 3 games is a serious gap with 28 to play.

> Travel day, 3 @LAD, 3 @AZ,  4 @SD, Travel day, 3 vs. LAD, 3 vs. MIL, Travel Day, 3 @CHC, 3 @COL, Travel Day, 3 vs. AZ, 3 vs. SD, and that's your [regular] season, Giants fans. Enjoy! As for the irregular season, we shall see...


* Metric Fuck Tons

Live tweeting space filler

Instead of reflecting on Monday night's game while my head is still throbbing from beating it against the wall, I offer you the following history of Sunday's contest via my Twitter feed. Do check it out and give a brother a follow while you're there...

12:17 PM Aug 29th
Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Live tweeting from Section 104 to commence shortly. Stay tuned. #sfgiants

2:26 PM
Back up again after issues with AT&T Park WiFi. Ironic considering I rock an iPhone. Anyway, back to the game... #sfgiants

2:32 PM
Catching up on the game: Matt Cain = horse. Andres Torres = beast. Eli Whiteside = not Buster. Pablo Sandoval = Panda. #sfgiants

2:34 PM
@sfgiants Can we hear some "Good Vibrations" on the #SFGOrgan?

3:03 PM
Shotgun gave us just what the doctor ordered today. This rotation needs a leader. Cain might be the guy. #sfgiants

3:17 PM
Well, I always like to be there when the season ends. #sfgiants

3:22 PM
#sfgiants and #Padres with dueling four-game slides. G's could be on the verge of being 2 out. Could be.

3:26 PM
Guillen's had all kinds of chances to make up for beefing that 1st inning popup yesterday. He just came thru big time. #sfgiants #BeatAZ

3:28 PM
We. Will. Not. Lose. Today. RT @GSWJim  @ArcadeDreams Maybe spoken too soon.

3:32 PM
First time I've seen the McCovey Cove suite unoccupied. Might have to run a guerilla maneuver and bum rush the joint. #sfgiants

3:40 PM
Yeah. #thathappened #sfgiants

3:41 PM
Yeah. #thathappened too. #sfgiants

3:48 PM
SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING:  #sfgiants baseball may be bad for your health.

3:55 PM
Even my usher is ripping Bochy for his machinations. I usually cut him some slack, but why put Wilson in Nate's spot & not Ross'? #sfgiants

[Butch's note: That last one turned out to be a prophetic tweet.]

122 down. 40 to go.

So who the hell was that? The guy who took the ball tonight and climbed up on the bump. The guy who twirled a gem and got yanked before he's had enough. The guy who's been up and down so much over the past three seasons that his real nickname should be Yo-Yo. Was that really "Dirty" Sanchez? I'll be damned, it was. Where was this Dirty on Orange Friday against the Padres, after guaranteeing a sweep, after opening his big fat mouth like he's bloody Juan Marichal? He's not Juan Marichal. He's not even Juan Valdez. He's a tremendous pitcher with the best natural stuff of anybody on this staff, a guy who could be a legit Number One, an ace in the hole... if he could just keep his dome straight. You can see it in his eyes the moment it happens. Sometimes it starts with a foul ball. He rubs up the new one and stares off into the abyss of the crowd, wondering what they're thinking, knowing they're all watching him. He comes to and gets the sign from the catcher like he's glancing at an accident on the highway. And when it comes in, it's either way off the plate, in the dirt, or nice and juicy. Then, you have evenings like this. Evenings that make you want to scream "WTF? Where was this when we needed it?" Because he's on my fantasy team, I was having a look at Dirty's splits. In four April starts, he went 2-1 with a 1.85 ERA and a WHIP of 1.11. In May, he posted a WHIP of 1.09, but his ERA jumped to 3.58. He went 1-3 in six starts. So, what caused the ERA jump if his WHIP stayed virtually constant? In April, he didn't give up a home run. In May, gave up four. Here endeth the lesson...

BTW...

> I don't have anything interesting to say about Wednesday night. Andres Torres continued to impress for Team Hopey Changey with a leadoff bomb — his 12th! — but los Gigantes didn't muster much more beyond Pat the Bat's encore tater in his return to Philly. Funny as shit to see him get a standing O on Tuesday before his first at bat, only to be booed after putting one in the seats...

> I know I just spent some space on this blog lauding the bullpen's stalwart performance of late. Perhaps I should hold my jinxing tongue... :)

> Always great to see Matt Cain get some run support. [sarcasm] As rough as it's been for the Giants starters of late, you have to feel for guys who go out there sometimes thinking they're gonna have to throw a shutout just to have a chance to win. The tendency, I imagine, would be to take too fine an approach, to nibble, and nibbling never got anybody a Cy Young Award... or two...

> Ten bucks says Buster Posey loses another double and an RBI when the official scorer has a second look at the ball Shane Victorino misplayed in the third. Dude gets enough hits anyway, right?

> War Panda. Finally.

94 down. 68 to go.

What the hell can I say after that? Let's start at the end and work our way forward, shall we? First off, another strong outing from @JeremyAffeldt locking down his third (!) save of the year — and really, a tremendous job by the whole bullpen to keep the Doyers in check while the offense capitalized on some key breaks to overcome an early deficit. As for the ninth inning insanity, I don't know what to say. I suppose one could view this as karma coming back around after Sunday's umpiring debacle. It could also be attributed to the Doyers going through a stretch not unlike what the G's experienced earlier in the month when the Hated Ones invaded the Cove. Either way, the chain of events that began with Lincecum hitting Kemp and ended with Mattingly's little dance with the 18-foot circle would be too ridiculous to believe if I hadn't watched the game with my own two eyes. You truly do see something new every day in this here game of baseball. Btw: Wtf with Big Time Timmy Jim? He seemed like he had it all sorted last time out, then he throws up this dud. I can't possibly be the only one concerned about the lack of consistency from our staff ace. Meanwhile, the Panda has returned. God, please let him stay a while. Speaking of God, can I get an amen for Andres Torres? Bochy's eagle eye ends up turning him around to the right side — his weaker side — and he still crushes the game winner.

P.S. Buster F***ing Posey. (Just had to mention him since he does something routinely stupendous every day.)

Butch's LA-LA Road Trip

Just a quick jaunt down the ol' I-5. A run to Zankou, a calzone from Damiano's, apple caramel cheese pie from Claim Jumper, and a little place called Chavez Ravine, where the smog is thick, parking is terrible, and the hot dogs are overpriced.

Friday, September 18th
Giants 8, Hated Ones 4
WP: Howry (2-6); LP: Troncoso (4-4)
HR: SF - Velez (5), Sandoval (22), Rowand (15); LA - Ramirez (19), Furcal (8)

Around the eighth is when it happens. It could be any time after the Do-yers fail to score late in a game they’re trailing to their hated rivals at home, but usually, it’s the eighth when it happens. A crowd that’s been all too willing to sit idly by and let the Giants and their fans enjoy the run of the house suddenly turns into a rabid beast.

Perhaps they’ve been waiting patiently for the inevitable comeback by the hometown nine. After all, this is a club that leads the world in comeback victories, and Andre Ethier has been a one-man walk-off highlight reel — with multiple video testimonials to that effect playing throughout the game.

Perhaps alcohol has been accumulating in their bloodstream ever since they got to their buddy’s place after work and ripped into that 30-pack of Natty Light. They got lost on the way down Sunset and ended up parked in some godforsaken corner of the lot after getting ripped off for parking — which you can do for free if you know your way around. The walk to the stadium left them winded and their buzzes killed, so the first thing they did once they got inside was pound another beer.

Perhaps they only just got settled into their seats after arriving in the bottom of the sixth with over-hyped Dodger Dogs and whack knock-off garlic fries cradled in their arms. The argument over their seats with the family that’s been in them for the first six innings didn’t help their adjustment to the game’s tempo. They only managed to get their game faces on in time to see Man-Ram strike out for the second time.

That’s when I cheer on my team: “Yeah, Serg!”

They turn around and glare. “Who told this guy he could sit there and wear the wrong shirt and say the wrong things?”

Non-confrontation is my policy of choice, and it’s because of the history I have with the fans of the Hated Ones. For the most part, they’re like anyone else: they like baseball, they like their team, and they want them to win, and good for you if you come out to support the other team because that’s what makes America great! They may be slightly more ignorant than your average Giants fan, but that has more to do with them being from Los Angeles than it does with their baseball allegiances.

But there is an element out there that the team would be ashamed to call their fans. These are the most vile and putrid types who care nothing for the game or its rich history or things like common decency and honor in defeat. They are the ones who throw food, hurl unprovoked insults in your direction, threaten physical violence just for looking them in the eye, get up in your grill and scream F-bombs, tell you to “go back to Frisco with the rest of the gays,” and if you’re really unlucky, they’re the ones who stab you, take your money, and leave you to die in the parking lot. (This has actually happened twice, but one of those times, the Giants fan was shot.)

People wonder why I continue to return to this place of eternal damnation and filth, with no leg room for a man of my stature and no respect for the most basic tenets of our society’s rules of engagement, and more importantly, why I insist on going alone. First off, I go alone because the friends and fellow fans I used to drag along with me have long since been scared off by the treatment they receive by association — that or they’ve been scared off by one or more of my many baseball-triggered breakdowns, which have an uncommon knack for occurring at Chavez Ravine.

As for why I keep coming back, it’s because this is the gauntlet with which we are presented as Giants fans. This is our rivalry, and it’s played out in two houses. To know the struggle from only one perspective would diminish the experience. If I were a Red Sox fan, I would take pride in a sojourn to the Bronx for a showdown with the Yankees. If I were a North-sider from Chi-town, Busch Stadium would be a yearly destination. But I’m neither of those things. I’m a Giants fan. This is my battlefield.

Come get some.

Butch’s BTW

Today’s BTW is devoted to two superstars of the game:

Gino Velez stayed hot at the dish and continues to make a case for himself when the club starts to think about next year’s starting eight. As was noted elsewhere, he came within one Andre Ethier diving catch of the first cycle I’ve ever seen live, and he set the game off on the proper tone with a smash off Vicente Padilla, who’s given the G-Men fits in the past.

The Giants bullpen won this game. Entering a tie game in the fifth, the relief corps tossed 4.2 scoreless and struck out Manny Ramirez twice. Jeremy Affeldt picked up his Major-League-leading 31st hold — whatever a hold is — and “Beach Boy” Brian Wilson put the cherry on top with a mercifully quick ninth.

Quick shout out to the Kung Fu Panda, who went yard to give the club an early lead. His first-pitch jack was out of there faster than I could say, “Get up!”

Stat of the Night

Coming into tonight’s game, the Giants were hitting .247 and averaging 3.6 runs per game on the road. At the Cove? They’re at .267 and scoring 4.5 rpg. Thanks, Haft!

Quote of the Night

"I have to take him out to dinner, I guess.” - Fred Lewis, after Manny Ramirez grossly misplayed Lewis’ pinch-hit, game-winning double in the sixth

Saturday, September 19th
Hated Ones 12, Giants 1
WP: Garland (11-11); LP: Penny (3-1)
HR: LA - Belliard GS (9), Kemp (25), Loney (13), DeWitt (2)

I tried not to smile when Man-Ram straight dropped Gino’s well-struck drive in the top of the first. I tried not to smile, but I think I did anyway. I let the Devil in, and he paid me back ten fold, well, twelve fold really. The minute Ronnie Belliard’s slam settled into the Do-yer bullpen, I settled in to a long afternoon with my portable radio, listening in as my Trojan football team fumbled and threw away a gimme game a short 1140 miles away.

The abysmal second half combined with the events playing out on the field in front of me to create a ceaseless rain of body blows that on any other day would’ve filled me with rage to the point that I erupted, with bad consequences all around. But today, I was sedated by a force beyond my control. I went to my happy place and stayed there, and I avoided the worst of the doldrums.

It’s just not healthy to get too worked up over these things once they’re done. It’s all well and good to get hyped up before a game, during the game, up until the final play, but once the results are in, there’s nothing anybody can do about it, and no amount of pointless aggression is going to change the score, much as we wish it were so sometimes. Much as we wish it were so.

I got to watch and hear the seasons of my ball club and my alma mater go down in flames within the same three-hour span. But I’ve had worse days, days I’m loathe to recall, days I’ve considered doing worse things than cursing out a fan of The Other Team. I’d rather think of tomorrow. I’ll have a pretty good view of Timmy as he takes the bump for another round with our SoCal counterparts. I like our chances, even against Randy Wolf.

One thing I will get all Negative Nancy about is leg room. How is it that I could be so cramped last night, only to move one row back today and have a luxurious amount of space to maneuver my tree-stump knees? Is there some drastic difference between rows G and H of the Loge level? When they put the new seats in a few years back, did they get cheap with the limb space in favor of more seats, more money, more Manny?

Greedy bastards. I’d like to see them “enjoy” a game in my shoes. Size 13.5, btw.

Butch’s BTW

Once again, attention must be paid to the little silver linings, without which games like this would suck altogether way too much donkey knob.

So props to Buster “Parker” Posey for collecting your first big league hit. I hope one day I can be glad to say I was there to see it, cause it was the only thing worth sticking around for after the first inning, at least from the whole, you know, Giant perspective.

Comeback of the year honors go to Joe Martinez, but the runner-up is the man he replaced in today’s game. Randy Johnson got in his first live work since July 5th, and looked more than a little shaky. But he proved a point. He wasn’t done. You can talk all you want about disappointments and overpaid athletes, but the guy had 8 wins before he went on the trainer’s table, and I’ll gladly pay him $1M per. After all, that seems to be the going rate for W’s in MLB these days. Check this out and do the math yourself. (Note the Giants right smack dab in the middle of the pack, just in case anybody’s wondering if they could be spending more... They could. A lot more.)

Franny Watch

Kevin Frandsen should start every game against the Hated Ones. He obviously gets it up to play them, and it’s not hard to imagine why, seeing as how he’s a die hard fan of the Orange and Black from way back. Anyway, kid got his first AB since last week against this very same Other Team, when he collected his season’s first RBI with a ringing double.

Today’s appearance didn’t turn out quite as well, but the kid got himself an opposite field knock and lifted that average all the way up to .167. I’m sure it’s not the season he would have predicted and certainly not the season he could have hoped for going into spring training with a legit shot at the cornerstone, but such is baseball, and such is life.

I don’t know what will become of him after this season, but I truly hope he’s enjoying himself and not taking this all too seriously, ‘cause there are a billion and one kids out there who’d give their left nut to be where he’s standing. A lot of them are bigger, more athletic, and even more gifted than he is, but the one thing he has that no one can touch and no one can teach is drive. That tells me we haven’t seen the last of him, with the Giants, or without.

Stat(s) of the Day

In case you were wondering, this defeat marked the largest margin of victory for the Hated Ones over your San Francisco Giants since a 16-4 shellacking during the 100-win 2003 campaign.

We al remember his late-inning heroics in the 2001 World Series, but Randy Johnson's last regular-season relief appearance came on July 18 of that year at San Diego, when he struck out 16 in the completion of a suspended game.

Quote of the Day

"It starts right with me and this is where it stops, right here... I'm not doing a good enough job making points on how we win.” - Pete Carroll

Sunday, September 20th
Hated Ones 6, Giants 2
WP: Wolf (11-6); LP: Lincecum (14-6)
HR: SF - Torres 2 (5); LA - Ethier (31)

I don’t have the stat right in front of me, and I don’t expect to have the time to look it up, but I can’t recall the last time the Giants scored a first-inning run in all three games of a series. I also can’t remember the last time they opened two games in the same series with a leadoff home run. Furthermore, I can’t pinpoint in my memory the last time the Giants’ leadoff hitter collected two dongs in the same game. To put the icing on this bad boy, I’m willing to bet that a Giants leadoff hitter has never accounted for his team’s entire offensive output with two solo jacks — at least not since that leadoff hitter was Brett Butler. All of these things happened in Sunday’s game. None of them could prevent the meaningful portion of the 2009 season from finally, at long last, coming to a close.

A lot of that is due to the fact that the Do-yers are just plain good. They’ve got talented hitters up and down the lineup, a serviceable starting staff, and a stout bullpen that’s been the cornerstone of their success all year. (It’s the only pen in the majors with an ERA lower than the Giants’, but it’s also logged the second-most innings in the league.) They hit for power, they hit for average, they bunt guys over, they steal bases, they catch the ball... well, everyone but Manny... and they have that aura of knowing how to win whatever game you throw their way.

Unfortunately for the forces of good in the universe, the Giants didn’t throw much of any game at their hated rivals over the final two games of what could have been a season-salvaging series. After a strong finish to Game 1, our boys came out flat and lifeless, particularly the starters, who — including the first two games in Arizona — have failed to make it out of the fifth inning for an entire five-game rotation. Brad Penny looked like he was more concerned with his pitch count and the Do-yer faithful than actually, you know, getting guys out. And after a typically dominant couple innings, Timmy faded quickly in the mid-80s temps and grueling sun of the smog-infested L.A. basin.

Lincecum’s struggle to adapt in warm climes seems like a trend the club would have a vested interest in curtailing. I’d recommend a yearly trip to the tropics to build up his heat tolerance after spending his first 22 years in the chilly Pacific Northwest and pitching his home games at the Cove. If this team continues to score runs at this anemic pace, they’ll need every quality start they can get out of their rotation, and any weakness will be amplified tenfold.

Speaking of anemia... This had to be one of the most painful pair of games a Giants fan has ever had to sit through, but because the home team had both contests in hand by the third inning, we were spared the usual brunt of Chavez Ravine aggression toward anything orange (see Game 1 notes). There’s nothing like a blowout victory and a hapless opponent to turn 53,000 agitated Angelenos into putty for Nancy Bee and her Organ of Doom. The guy they have doing a karaoke version of “Don’t Stop Believing” in the middle of the eighth certainly helps to lighten the mood.

Of course, the kid-glove treatment I received could have more to do with the price of admission in my seating area than the general attitude of opposing fans. I s’pose when you pay $70 a ducket, it’s easier to keep your cool since that’s too much change to waste on getting tossed for being a jackass. It really is shocking how much tickets are going for these days at other parks. In case you ever find yourself bitching and moaning about Mr. Neukom and the cost of seeing baseball (COSB) at AT&T, have a look at the price points for Do-yer Stadium.

Stat of the Day

Randy Winn extended his career-best errorless streak to 200 games but also extended his career-worst homerless drought to 453 at-bats.

Quote of the Day

“You can tell by the look on my face I'm not really happy about my outing and the way I let the team down." - Lincecum, owning it like a ten-year vet

Series debrief

Driving back to my friend’s place after Friday night’s game, I did a little opp research and turned on the Do-yers AM affiliate for the postgame wrap. My first observation, and one that came within moments of flipping on the radio: These guys suck. Honestly, is this the best breakdown crew for a team with Vin Scully’s name on the press box? My second observation: The Hated Ones are going nowhere in the postseason.

I listened for about five minutes as the hosts of the show fielded questions from fans about their team’s postseason rotation. Who should go first? Who should go in Game Two? Do you play match-ups or do you go on gut instinct? What would Torre do?

It struck me that they don’t know. They don’t know who would start Game One of a postseason series! This is a team leading their division by five with twelve to play, the epitome of cruising, a team that can afford to align its rotation any way it likes, and they have no idea who their frontline starter would be.

I can’t say that I blame them. With Chad Billingsley quickly falling to pieces, this staff lacks a credible ace and even a serviceable two-man. Matched against a powerhouse like Philly and their one-two of Cliff Lee and Cole Hamels or the Cards and the deadly Adam Wainwright-Chris Carpenter combo, even a team with as many offensive threats as the Do-yers boast doesn’t stand a chance unless it can match the level of play at the center of attention.

It is truly a shame that the Giants lack the consistent offense to get them into a short series with one of those teams. I think they could hang with either one of them.