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?

Tinkering around the edges.

© Getty Images

Picking up where we left off last week, now that the roster is pretty much set, it's time to put on our size 8.5 hats and play inside Bochy's head a bit. Watch out, because it's kinda dark in here, and slippery...

The good news? There are a number of switch hitters on the 40-man, which means Bochy will get more length out of his roster on a day-to-day basis. This becomes important when your field manager treats every game like the Game 7 of the World Series and you'd like to be home in time to catch the late Sunday game on ESPN.

The bad news? There aren't a lot of lineup permutations where Angel Pagan isn't be featured in the leadoff role. While I like having someone to cement the position, I'm still not convinced he can pull it off every day in our yard. But he's what we have, so you have to use him. Right?

In the end, beyond the leadoff spot, there's a plethora of options at Bochy's fingertips. Let's survey just a handful of his potential lineups...

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...

Butch's 2011 Fantasy Draft Recap

Since I came back to fantasy baseball in 2007 after a twelve hear hiatus, I've had one semi-successful season and three straight clunkers. I've never been last, but I've never been first. I seem condemned to meddle in the middle. Why I find myself perpetually pursuing the prize is a matter of mere inertia as I truly don't have the time to mull over statistics and projections, let alone prepare a draft strategy contingent upon the rules and players in my particular league. But though I might lament my luck and I'm out more than a few hard-earned bucks, this little experiment has proven to be a healthy diversion from the more mundane aspects of my daily routine.

My preparation for this season's draft was virtually nonexistent and anecdotal at best. I watch enough of the MLB Network to have at least a peripheral knowledge of nearly every team in the league. I read enough Twitter posts to know who's out with a calf strain and who's suffering from mono. But mostly, I play it by feel. I like scrappy players, guys with a variety of talents, maybe not the best players on paper, but with the heart to make them stars. I also like players who fit the team name for the year. With that, I give you Team Tiger Blood:

Countdown to Scottsdale #1: Aubrey Huff, Baddass

I sing the song of Aubrey Huff, the last man in our countdown and the first Giant in our hearts. What can be said about a guy who spent nine years on last or second-to-last place teams only to find his niche and a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow in San Francisco, wearing a red thong for the Orange and Black? Sitting down and writing this, it seems fitting that Aubrey Huff should be rounding out this trip down Memory Lane. I think back a few years to when I first started hearing his name and the Giants paired in the same sentence. He was on Sabean's radar for a while, and it's not difficult to understand why. His red ass nature fits right in with the mentality of this entire organization. Right down to the very last one of us fans, the Giants are one bitter bunch, but a barrel of laughs nonetheless. So a lanky, goofy, aging country ballplayer makes perfect sense as the team spokesperson/motivational speaker/practical joker/heart and soul.

I didn't know what to think when we finally acquired Huff off the free agent wire. It wasn't a bad signing by our standards. One year, three mil. And it made sense for a guy his age with diminishing numbers. At the worst, he was a stop gap until either the market opened up or talent revealed itself in the farm system. And while Brandon Belt proved he's on the cusp of making an impact in the Show, it says a lot that the front office brought Huff back around for two more years (at least) and gave him a sizable raise in the process. He was the unquestioned Leader of the Misfit Pack, the King of the Red Asses, the Elder of the Tribe. On a team that's grown noticeably younger with every passing year, Aubrey Huff was a steadying fatherly influence, the guy who scraped rock bottom and only wanted to drink from the keg of glory. And he led not only in word but in deed.

Throughout the season, the Giants offense was anchored around Huff in the middle of the lineup. He bounced around a bit at the beginning and end of the season, as Bruce Bochy struggled to find the winning formula, but on this team, there was no one else with the power or consistency to fill that void at the heart of the order. He took a long time getting off the home run schnide, but when he did, it was in spectacular fashion. And when he hit taters, he hit them in bunches. When former U of Miami teammate Pat Burrell joined the Giants in June, you could see the lift that it gave Huff after months of carrying the team. Consequently, his July was one to remember, as the Giants went 19-9 and Huff hit .367 with a 1.115 OPS, 8 HR, 6 2B, and 23 RBI.

But he struggled mightily in August, and with his team on the ropes, the clubhouse clown knew he needed to inject some life into his teammates. So he did it the only way he knew how. By now, we're all well aware of the Giants little good luck charm that inspired a 20-10 record down the stretch that — combined with an epic Padres brain fart that, let's face it, was pretty much a regression to the mean for that bunch — led the San Francisco version of the New York Gothams to a National League West title and an eventual World Series Championship. If for the Rally Thong alone, Aubrey Huff deserves a place in Giants lore alongside Lefty O'Doul and the Crazy Crab. But for his comprehensive contributions to the Season Which Will Live In Infamy, I think he gets a statue. The only question is what he'll be wearing when he sits for the sculptor.

Thanks, Aubrey.
...

So that's it. 42 players in 28 days. My love letter to the Team of Destiny. Now, it's on to 2011 and the beginning of our title defense. Bring it, Philly...

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.

123 down. 39 to go.

I've said it before, but so much in baseball can hinge on one pitch. Last night, the pitch that stood out was the changeup low and out of the strike zone that Pablo Sandoval absolutely nutted into the Cardinals bullpen in right center. It didn't give the Giants a lead, but it did extend their lead. It was a solo shot, so Jake Westbrook avoided a crooked number. But in the context of the season, that pitch and the swing Sandoval put on it meant a whole heckuva lot. Baggs has already opined on the subject here, so I won't regurgitate his stats and observations. From the perspective of a fan who watches most of his games from the couch, it's clear that Pablo is slowly but surely becoming the Panda once again. In his last ten games, he's hitting over .300 with four jacks and five RBI. Two days ago, he laced his first homer from the right side of the plate since September '09. And last night, he fell behind 0-2, fought back to a full count, and crushed a pitcher's pitch outa the park. It's upsetting that his defense has seemingly waned as his offense has improved, but honestly, I'll take that trade off. The Giants have been among the best defensive teams in the league all year, and when they score four runs, they're virtually unbeatable. They're not a perfect team, so they have to distribute their resources as efficiently as possible. Am I ready to say that Kung Fu Pandamonium has returned? Not quite. Too small a sample size. But it's a nice sample nonetheless, and it's encouraging that it's happening at just the right time. As the pitching staff begins to tire in the season's final weeks, we'll need some offense to back them up. Sandoval, Sanchez, Burrell, Huff, Posey, and yes, even Guillen need to be on top of their respective games, because if we can't count on Timmy, we need to mash...

BTW...

> How freaking awesome was it to watch Madison Bumgarner go right after The Great Pujols? Albert progressively got a better look at MadBum's stuff, eventually blasting one out to deeeeeep left center after Andres Torres robbed him of a double at the centerfield wall. But Bumgarner stole the show tonight. I dare anyone to prove to me he's not the ace of the staff right now...

> Sergio Romo seems to have secured the eighth inning gig — for now. No telling if his mini-implosion last night will affect Bochy's late-inning choices, which are already due up for review with Jeremy Affeldt's return to a clean bill of health...

> The sequel to last night's Kung Fu Panda Redux was the Return of the Huff Daddy. Nice game for a guy who's my age yet looks twice as old. And according to Baggs, it was all my buddy Pat Burrell's fault. Be sure to check out the off-day story on these two and the blog that followed. Classic stuff...

> I don't know about you, but seeing Pedro Felíz in another uniform always makes me feel... grateful...

> I have no problem with José Guillen wearing the sacred No. 6, provided he produces with his bat and throws out at least a half a dozen guys trying to stretch singles into doubles. It's obvious his legs are not what they used to be, but that's nothing new for a Giant wearing the 6 jersey. I know I said some nasty things, but so far, so good for the newest Gigante...

117 down. 45 to go.

Nice one, Dirty. We stake you to a 2-run lead. You give it back. We put two runners on ahead of you. You bunt it back to the pitcher. A suggestion from a guy who still begrudges Dusty Baker for handing Russ Ortiz the game ball: You can't guarantee a win in team sports. But if you happen to get overanxious in the postgame presser and say something you should probably have kept to yourself, the least you can do is keep a clean sheet for your part in the contest. Failing to do that, you get my Razz of the Day. I will, however, note that your performance was much improved overall, and my fantasy team thanks you for it. Btw, #TeamHopeyChangey is still in the cellar of the middle of the league. Get that? Short post today because I have to run out the door and walk precincts. I think when this campaign is done, I'll get GOTV tattooed on my arm...

BTW...

> Seeing Aubrey Huff take Clayton Richard the opposite way for an RBI double in the first was like a vision of happiness. Defenses have been employing the "Barry" shift on Huff Daddy pretty much all year, but the guy can hit to all fields, so I don't really see the point. It's also striking to remember how rarely the man for whom I name the shift did this very thing, even in situations where a bleeder to the left side would score the winning run...

> As I said on the Twitter thingie, this is not the end of the world. We still have two games left in this series to jump back into the race for first. It's all about winning series from here on out. We do that, we'll be golden...

106 down. 56 to go.

FRIDAY: It's an adventure every night with this team, B-Weezy back spasms or not. But for some reason, this time, I wasn't worried. Even as the tying run moved into scoring position, I felt deep down in those places you don't talk about at parties that the boys were gonna pull this one out. I brought a kazoo to the game, an orange one. It debuted on Monday, but I really let it out on Orange Friday, blaring in the ears of unsuspecting Doyer fans. After a few innings, I began to recall the last time the Hated Ones came to town. I said some really awful things to some blue-clad fans that warm evening in late June. I eased off on the kazoo, stopped telling every other person in an Ethier shirt to "Go back to your smog-infested shell of a city." I let them be. And los Gigantes rewarded me with a W. How did I know they would pull it out? Because in the top of the 9th, I had my mouth hermetically sealed shut. BTW: War Juan U! RIBE! for still being a baddass, but this game belonged to Aubrey Huff. Two-run double, Arcade homer, two great plays from both corner outfield positions. Can you spell M-V-P? Buster Posey... 1-game hitting streak.

SATURDAY: When Pat Burrell connected on his eighth inning bolt of lightning into the glove of a lucky fan roaming the bleachers, the multitude of images, memories, thoughts, and feelings that splashed across my mind would have been enough to fill an entire volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica. My instincts told me to join the rest of my 42,000 friends in attendance and jump for joy, explode in a rage of happiness and inchoate ranting. But I had to keep all but the briefest of bleats tucked neatly inside my soul. Why? Because I had the honor of sharing a luxury suite for the final 2+ innings with a local VIP, and while he would not have cared if I'd screamed bloody murder, I had to respect the austerity of his guests. It hurt so much to hold it inside as my former high school classmate rounded the bases in a moment that all of us there knew instantly would be carved into the storied history of this rivalry, to be repeated to our sons and daughters, to their daughters and sons. It hurt so much  had to cry. And when I did, I was thinking of my father, and his father. It's a family thing, you see. BTW: I'd have to be a galdarned idiot not to realize the eerie symmetry between this game and the Sunday afternoon affair at Chavez Ravine following a bitter floor battle at the California Democratic Party Convention on April 18th. On that day, oh so long ago, Barry Zito threw seven scoreless, and he was dealing like he always does in that yard. But he was being matched pitch for pitch by Clayton Kershaw, until U-RIBE! shot one into the left field pavilion. Part of me wanted the game to end 1-0, but the other part — the dominant part — knew that it wouldn't. So when Zito walked Garrett Anderson and Romo came in to give up the ghost to ManRam, I sat there and laughed. To keep from crying. I could sit here and draw the parallels, but I'll just say that this was Zito's redemption, even though he didn't figure in the decision of either game.

SUNDAY: I'm going to try very hard not to get excited. I'm going to do my best not to fly off the handle and make bold but uneducated predictions. I'm going to bite my tongue. But this is getting to be pretty f***ing fun, and the fun's only beginning. I remember the last time we swept the Doyers at the Cove. I remember because at the time I was working as an usher in Sections 219 & 220 on the Club Level. Great view up the first base line out toward the archways. I got to watch J.T. Snow do his bizniss every day, and they paid me $11 an hour to do it. Good union work. On the day we completed the sweep, the Giants were absolutely blowing those pricks out of the water, and I had to deal with the one and only fight in my section the entire year. It was started by a Doyer fan who — as fate would have it — was from San José. I don't know what pissed me off more: his team of choice or that he could've been my neighbor. Or maybe it was having to stay an hour after the game to fill out a report, and then another, and then another. All because some Giants fan sprained his thumb in the altercation. I remember trying to get between them before it happened. My fans may have thought I was trying to protect them from drunken violence. Truthfully, I just wanted them to cool it so I could watch the game and get home on time. BTW: How does Edgar Renteria do it? Every time the fans — yours truly included — start calling for his head, he turns around and does something that makes it impossible for us to hate him (see: Opening Day, grand slam vs. Rockies in '09). War Matt Cain. He earned that W.

85 down. 77 to go.

One hour until the boys face off with rookie phenom Stephen Strasburg, so I'll make this a quick one... If anyone has any ideas for how to stop Buster Posey, they may want to forward them to the rest of the National League — particularly the Milwaukee club — because this kid is getting downright abusive. You can point out that the Brew Crew has hit a serious lull in their enthusiasm for the game of baseball, and that they did everything they could to give this series to the Giants. (Ken Macha had better be dusting off his résumé as I write this.) But like I said before, good teams take advantage when breaks come their way, and the cumulative series score of 36-7 is great news for the bats as well as the pitching staff, both of which abandoned ship during The Losing Streak. Some quick hits: The only person Zito should be pissed with is himself. That was one craptastic performance after being gifted a rare 6-0 advantage. Also, you can mark my words, Aubrey Huff will go down as one of the best moves of Brian Sabean's tenure with the Orange and Black.

Going off the grid to attend a friend's wedding in Humboldt this weekend, so you'll be without my witty asides for a few days. Hope you can find the strength to press on until Monday. If you're lucky, I may have enough 3G reception to update the ol' Twitter thingy, so stay tuned to @ArcadeDreams.

82 down. 80 to go.

A few more like that, and we'll get our legs back. For a long while, we were on the the wrong side of the great wave of karma. But just for one day, the waves of Lake Michigan were breaking our way. You can't say enough about what Aubrey Huff's meant for this team. I hope his teammates are taking notes. Was that Panda I saw driving Huff in from second to tie the game? Meanwhile, Buster Posey straight dekes everybody, including Dave Groeschner, and deposits one in the right field stands. Bum wrist, my bum. Dirty Sanchez can't seem to get through five innings in less than 261 pitches. So frustrating to see such good stuff in the hands of a guy with more mental hangups than yours truly. Someone needs to find him an ounce or two of whatever he smoked the night of his no-no. I hadn't bothered to look at the standings for more than a week, for obvious reasons. 7 games back. Jesus. Well, nothing like a thrilling pennant chase to keep the blood flowing!

P.S. Trying something new and cross-posting to Facebook via the ol' Blogspot. Hope your consumption of Under the Arcade is not inconvenienced by this change in format.

Butch's Hot Stove Report, Vol. 2

Now that’s what I call a deadline deal! I go to bed expecting to wake up to a perennial cycle that could have played out for four straight years: Tim Lincecum winning an arbitration hearing, then going out and winning another Cy Young, then winning another arbitration hearing, then going out and... well, you get the idea.

Point is, by the end of the four years he’s likely making somewhere in the neighborhood of $35 mil a year. Yeah, not pretty when you’re talking about team building and you have a hole in your offense so wide they could sail the goddamn Titanic through it, if they could get the blasted thing off the bottom of the ocean. Anyway, let’s roll...

Butch’s Top Ten Stories Between the Winter Meetings and Spring Training That Don’t Involve Unsubstantiated Rumors or Downright Lies

1. Lincecum signs 2-year, $23M deal on eve of arbitration hearing.

Okay, so I didn’t quite exhaust my thoughts on this in the intro. This deal works on so many levels. It reduces the Giants liability juuuuust in case Timmy, let’s say it gently, blows his freakin’ arm out. It also provides Tim with some job security and puts his mind at ease, at least for the 2010 season. And how could it get any better than $8M this year (the Giants arbitration offer) and $13M next year (Lincecum’s offer). The quick ones out there will do the math and realize there’s an extra $2M in the contract. To which I say, “Duh. You don’t think he’d sign without a fat guaranteed bonus.” That’s not to mention the incentives built in for when he goes out and wins another Cy Young, then goes out and wins another... well, yeah. Tim(e) will prove me right or wrong.

2. Sandoval not quite as... girthy... as everybody expected.

While I’ll never question the Kung Fu Panda’s dedication to the game, the jury’s still out for me on whether or not Pablo Sandoval can stay fit enough to compete at the extremely high level the one-and-a-half-year vet has already set for himself. That said, he did make it through Camp Panda, and he crossed continents to step up huge for the home town team, so I’m willing to give the big guy the benefit of the doubt. But in case you have any doubt as to why this is item Number 2 on my big freakin’ list, I invite you to have a gander at this video, then take a look at this stat sheet.

3. Giants somehow re-sign Molina, declare Buster will play other positions.

Another happy awakening: Bengie’s back. This had to happen. Don’t get me wrong, he’s slower than molasses in January snow, he’s not what he used to be with the glove behind the plate — if he ever really was — but he’s the only teacher this young pitching staff has known, and he’s always there with the big money hit at just the right time.

But now, you ask, what for with Buster? Well, we’ve heard a lot of things. We’ve heard he’d start in Triple-A and the team would pick up a vet to play backstop for one more year. Molina was considered long gone to the Mets when the market started to dry up, and word on the street was Buster might yet get the nod behind the dish on opening day. But in the midst of the darkest night, Sabes came through with a one-year deal for Bengie to sing a duet with the Kid, and the voices in the night were whispering that Buster would play a little first base, perchance...

4. Laroche rebuff.

Coulda called this one from a mile away, or maybe 421 feet. Getting any power bat to come out and play 81 games at Pac Bell must be a lot like trying to wrestle with a swordfish, only by the time you’re through, the fish either got away, or you signed him to a five year, $60M deal. So it should have come as no surprise when Adam Laroche, offered $17M over two years to hold down first base for the Giants, instead signed for one year at $6M with the D-Backs. I’m asked all the time why the Giants don’t make runs at the high-priced free agents anymore. “Why do they always settle for these middle-of-the-road drifters.” Because they’re the only ones who’ll come out and play in the notorious San Francisco summer for less than a song. And until we bring in the walls — which should never f***ing happen — we’ll have to live with developing top hitting talent in the minors and riding it for as long as we can before one-by-one they all slowly defect to parks with friendlier conditions for dingers.

5. Giants add some reliable offense, but wtf with Freddy?

The previous rant aside, I’m not here to rag on Mark DeRosa or Aubrey Huff, and you already know how I feel about Juan Uribe and Bengie Mo. I believe the Giants offense will be appreciably better this season than it was last season. That said, it’s not going to be the ’27 Yankees out there. We should expect a lot of 1-0 victories and 2-1 defeats, but I think with a little more consistency in the middle of the lineup, without relying on Panda and Bengie to carry the load, we could see a few more 4-3 and 5-4 victories. This team scored 4.05 runs per game last season. It doesn’t take a math major to figure out that even one more rpg puts us in the playoffs.

But it doesn’t take a baseball mastermind to see that this lineup rises and falls on the fate of its hinge, the glue, the guy in the two hole, the one they call Sanchez. I still believe his best says in the cream -colored home unis are yet to come, but he’s got a long way to go with the rest of you out there. Yeah, I read the comments on Extra Baggs, I check out McCovey Chronicles, I even read me some Haft Baked Ideas. Y’all just can’t help but hate on Freddy when all the guy wants to do is play. You think he likes being hurt? You think he likes gettin’ ragged on by someone eatin’ pork rinds and tossing them at the TV every time you don’t like the way a guy legged out or didn’t leg out a grounder? If you want someone to blame for the mess up to this point, blame modern science, because it’s not like these trainers don’t know what they’re doing. Alluvasudden, the guy became an injury magnet. Let’s just hope the bug doesn’t bite again, whenever he happens to return to the lineup.

In the meantime, Franny, anybody?

6. Sabean says MadBum will probably start 2010 in the rotation.

More of an update than news, actually. Once they, ahem, broke the bank to bring back Bengie, we were pretty sure to see the human bean stalk stalking the mound this season as the fifth member of the fearsome Orange and Black rotation that’s about to form like Voltron and annihilate National League West hitting. With Timmy as the head, Matt and J-Sanch as the arms, Zito as the heart, and MadBum as the legs, this ship cannot help but sail deep into games. Expect to see some hot dog wrappers collecting around the left field bullpen this season, ‘cause that mound ain’t gettin’ a lot of use.

7. Nasty Nate ready for prime time.

Nate Schierholtz has been my boy since 2007, which means I’ve been waiting for his moment just about as long as he has. And now, it appears to have come. A smoking hot run in the Puerto Rican league, triggered in part by some tweaks to his approach, has got his bat all caught up with his glove. Nasty Nate has become a complete player, and it’s going to be awful hard to knock him out of the opening day lineup unless Eugenio Velez learns how to crank Splash Hits or nail guys trying to stretch a double into a triple from a football field away all while playing the most dangerous right field in baseball like it’s his hometown sandlot in San Ramon Valley.

8. Lincecum beats the rap.

The photo at the top of this story is just too classic. The guy looks like something out of a Robert Redford movie, walking into a courtroom where the entire course of his life will be determined. In reality, he was facing a bulls**t pot charge, and he got off with community service, what with it being his first offense and him winning two consecutive Cy Young Awards and all. There was never any danger of this becoming an issue in the long term. I mean, seriously, when was the last time an athlete was convicted of anything that didn’t involve cruelty to animals? But it does bring up one serious question: If pot is such an abomination, how the hell can this kid smoke it and pitch like that 32 times a year? I s’pose we’ll get the chance to answer that question at the polls this November. Looks like Timmy could be in the clear, as long as he keeps it in Cali.

9. Dodgers owner enters divorce hearings.
Lmfao.

10. ¿Franny se va?

Will he be traded? Will he be relegated to the minors? Will he end up in the opening day lineup subbing for an injured Freddy Sanchez? The questions persist for our most quixotic prospect. The pride of Willow Glen may well end up plying his trade for a competing corporate baseball entity, but he will always be a Giant.