116 down. 46 to go.

So it begins: Showdown Series, Guarantee Weekend, How The West Was Won... Doesn't matter what you call it, this visit from the Fathers is freaking HUGE. But it wouldn't mean quite as much were it not for one man: Pat Burrell. At the risk of turning this blog into a Pat the Bat lovefest, there is now officially no way to deny the positive impact this scrap heap signing has had on your 2010 San Francisco Giants. Let's talk about the GWRBI in three of the last four Gigantes victories — and it woulda been all four had the over-taxed bullpen not blown the 4-run lead provided by my high school classmate's emphatic fifth-inning grand slam. Let's talk about clutch late-inning home runs to beat the Hated Ones, and then the Cubs on Wednesday night — with Butch in the house! Let's talk about critical sac flies (the most underrated stat in all of baseball) to beat the Braves last week and those same Cubbies on Monday — again, with yours truly cheering him on from Section 104. Let's talk about professional at bats, a strong arm in left field, and a winning attitude. Let's talk about how Pat's signing jacked up Aubrey Huff, his former teammate at The U. Most importantly, let's talk about how Brian Sabean continues to confound his critics by pulling players like Pat out of his ass and watching them turn into difference makers. I'm talking about Kenny Lofton, Randy Winn, Juan Uribe, and now Burrell. Much as I abhor the acquisition of Jose "Cancer" Guillen, I have to stop short of bashing the move until we've seen what it yields. Hell, for all we know, Guillen will have a game winner down the stretch that proves to be the difference between playing baseball or golf in October. So put away your Lunatic Fringe membership cards for one day and do what our good buddy Jeff Kent says: "Watch the game." Who knows? You might see something special...

BTW...

> War Pablo Sandoval. First homer since mid-June. A splash hit, no less. Match that with a pair of shots to Triples Alley in the final two games of this series that would have been out of any other park, and you've got the makings of a possible re-birth. But I'm gonna stop right there, because we've heard it, seen it, felt it before, and Panda version '09 has yet to make an appearance...

> I'd love to sit here and bitch out the 'pen for "blowing" Matt Cain's 10th victory and "wasting" Pat's granny, but how can you hate after the week they've had? Relievers have taken the decision in each of the last 9 games, and between a pair of extra inning contests and a bevy of abbreviated outings from the starters, these guys are taxed. Ironic that Bochy went to a 7-man 'pen to add some bench depth right before this tenuous stretch. But it looks like reinforcements are on the way in the form of Jeremy Affeldt and "Big" Dan Runzler — both tossing for the Baby Giants this weekend...

> Amidst all this Pat the Bat insanity, I'd be remiss if I didn't check in on another Bellarmine alum — and fellow Willow Glen native — who once wore the orange and black of his hometown team. I'm referring, of course, to Kevin "Franny" Frandsen. Unfortunately, Franny is currently plying his trade at the AAA level for the hated Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim in Orange County Near the Airport (A Huuuuuuuuuge Toilet Bowl). Before his demotion, he was hitting .288 in 139 ABs for the big league club, with 11 doubles and 13 RBI. Also of note: 9 BB and only 6 Ks. Right now, he's batting .266 for the Salt Lake Bees. I will keep you posted on his movements...

> Can't say I was all that geeked up by Jonathan Sanchez's bulletin board quotes following his shellacking in Atlanta on Sunday. I've never been one for guaranteed victories because there are too many variables in sports to make these guarantees anything more than sheer bravado, especially in baseball. IMHO, you take care of your business and leave the talking for the broadcasters and beat writers. Let's hope Dirty didn't light too big of a fire under the Padres' collective ass...

See you at the Cove...

114 down. 48 to go.

I know what's on your mind, but I'm not getting into it. I've already expended far too much energy, used far too many words, and wasted far too much space on the frankly frightening subject of the Amazing Disappearing Back-to-Back Cy Young Award Winner. Mediocre Merc sub Carl Steward already blogged about the need for Big Time Timmy Jim to consult his own personal Dr. Frankenstein. And Timmy himself has already addressed the issue of his rapidly waning success with the media types. So why bother? It's just gonna rile me up anyway, and I've got tickets for tonight's contest, so I need to be in positive spirits for Section 104. I will say that I called yesterday as the one game the Giants would likely lose in a series against one of the most pathetically struggling teams in professional ball right this minute. Long story short: Tim is the only G's starter in whom I do not have innate confidence, and Ryan Dempster has always given us hives. While I truly hate it when I'm right sometimes, there's a reason they call me #Butchtrodamus. Late-inning rallies and lucky breaks aside, this game was over the moment Team Hopey Changey 29th-round draft pick Kosuke Fukudome (pronounced Fuk-u-dome in Section 104) got wet off former THC teammate Timmy. (There was no pun intended there. The abbreviation of my fantasy team's name is THC. Purely coincidental. Swear to god.) I would have been remotely excited by that development had I not dumped Fukudome like a dirty diaper back in May. That's the best contact this guy's made in months, and that fact that it came off the Franchise should be another red flag — but I'm not gonna talk about that. Of course, there's not much else to talk about, so who the hell am I kidding? We need Timmy straight in the head and sound in the body. Right now, he's neither, and it scares the living piss out of me because that means Barry Zito is our de facto "ace". And while Baked Zitti looks like his usual second-half self, I'm not convinced he could lead off a short series against an Adam Wainwright or Tim Hudson — or Roy Halladay...

BTW...

> Buster's back, and Pablo didn't look too shabby either. Good to see some production from both of these guys after recent struggles — albeit Panda's a bit more pronounced and extended than Gerald's...

> Not to rag on the 'pen because they've been freaking stout lately, particularly former Hated One Guillermo Mota. But those two Cub runs with two out in the eighth were freaking back breakers and made the 9th inning rally by los Gigantes that much more bittersweet. Imagine if Panda's infield hit had tied the game...

113 down. 49 to go.

Go Bells. Seriously, I don't think I've taken full advantage of this space to express the sheer joy I get from watching a former Bellarmine classmate light it up for the team we both grew up idolizing. And now, three times in nine days, Pat Burrell has won a game for los Gigangtes de San Francisco — first with his epic 8th inning blast against the Hated Ones, then on a pair of desperately needed sac flies. One of those SF's produced the only win that SF picked up in the ATL. The other ended an 11-inning contest on Jerry Garcia Tribute Night yesterday at the Cove. My avid Tweeps will recall that I called for the Giants to sign Pat the Bat the very day he was DFA'd by the Rays, and I lobbied for the move over the week that followed before a deal was finally struck. To a one, the beat writers — I'm looking at you @HankSchulman — said it would be a pointless endeavor considering the team's apparent outfield logjam and the apparent decline of Burrell's career arc. What a difference a couple months make. His numbers over 170 plate appearances since joining the Orange and Black? .291/.388/.511, 10 2B, 7 HR, 20 RBI — and 4 sacrifice flies. And just yesterday, Bochy says Pat's the de facto everyday LF. So go eat another donut, Henry, and let the big boys like #Butchtrodamus do the prognosticating. When this season is said and done, I hope we can all look back and be happy that Sabes and the brass took a chance on that kid who used to sit behind me in Counterculture Lit with Mr. Benson. But even if he never swung a bat after that homer against the Doyers, he would've held a special place in the hearts of Giants fans for years to come. Go Bells, indeed...

BTW...

> This [lack of] offense is really starting to piss me off. I mean, for crying out loud, 7 BBs in 5 IP from Carlos "I Can't Help That I'm A Total Douche" Zambrano, and we score 2 whole runs — one of them on a WP? Yeah, it's odd to have a rookie catcher batting cleanup, but when you've only got three guys out of nine you can trust not to strike out feebly or bounce a two-hopper to short with runners on base, you've got to put them where they can make an impact. The good news? The boys picked up twice as many hits with RISP on Monday night as they did all weekend in Atlanta. The bad news? They still almost lost to a lesser team. Ah, the dog days...

> I'm certainly not the biggest Deadhead in the world, but I'm enough of a fan to appreciate last night's tribute to Jerry. As always, the team put on a wonderful pre- and in-game show, highlighted — for me anyway — by Mickey Hart, Bill Kreutzmann, and Bill Walton leading 8,500 strong in a kazoo chorus version of "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" during the stretch. There were plenty of heads in the crowd, and the lot before the game was reminiscent of my weekend with Phish at the Greek. I think I heard someone asking for a miracle for tonight's game...

> War Giants bullpen for coming home hard. Five and a third of shutout ball from six of seven available relievers, but I sure as hell didn't want this game getting to Santiago Casilla. Yikes! Thankfully, it ended with Chris Ray on the bump, as it has three times since he was acquired for Bengie Mo. Pretty good deal that...

Where the Wild Things Are

I conceived of this post about a week and a half ago as an off-day story to lead into the crucial 11-game trip that got off to a smashing start yesterday...

The G-Men were coming off a clutch road series victory in Houston, returning home to face the thoroughly incompetent Reds in a weekender before the Hated Ones came to town for a series that could have put the squad from the City right back in the Western Division mix. They had regained their Wild Card advantage over the Rocks and were flying high with new addition Freddy Sanchez off to a thrilling start in the orange and black.

I was going to tell you how the N.L. Wild Card race would come down to the two teams from the West. How the Cubs and Brewers would beat each other senseless in their attempts to chase down eventual Central Division champ St. Louis. How the Marlins don't have enough pitching consistency. How the Braves lack depth on either side of the ball. Why that didn't matter because the strength of the East from top to bottom — including the lowly Nats who shocked the world by reeling off eight W's in a row — would do in both Florida and Atlanta down the stretch anyway. How the Giants and Rockies were uniquely positioned to duke it out over the season's final weeks thanks to the weakness of 'Zona and the Pads and the overall strength of their respective pitching staffs full of young studs. And how the Giants would eventually prevail thanks to six games against Colorado in the friendly confines of 24 Willie Mays Plaza (where they still enjoy a 39-20 record despite a pitiful 2-4 homestand).

I started writing on the travel day after the Houston series. I attached links to multimedia, stat graphs, articles and blogs. I wrote prose poems in honor of Freddy Sanchez's club foot. I sang the praises of the soon-to-return "Nasty" Nate Schierholtz. Satisfied, I set the piece to post yesterday morning. I figured the only reason I'd have to scrap it would be if the G's managed to sweep the struggling Hated Ones and jump right back in the division race...

Then, this happened.

Now, our team is reeling at the absolute worst time imaginable. I said before that if they managed to hold on through this trip, they would make the postseason. While that's still a very manageable goal to aim for given they trail the Colorado team by only 1 1/2 games in the WC standings and sit 6 1/2 behind the Hated Ones — despite dropping two out of three to them earlier this week in atrociously mediocre fashion — a reasonable appraisal of this team would tell you they need the offense back in its late-June, early-July mode if they're to have any shot at all. (They certainly need to figure things out in time for the four-gamer in Denver that closes this little jaunt.)

So I scrapped my story and banged this out instead. Now, the boys have gone and dropped the first game of the trip with little more than a whimper, leaving Barry Zito hanging on the bump without a run of support for the eighth time this season — that's a full third of his starts, people (eat your heart out, Matt Cain) — and I have a hard time getting up the will to posit my theory, which still holds water, though it's leaking from numerous tiny fissures that could very quickly become gushers if the ship is not righted in short order.

I still believe the Central teams —aside from the Cards, who are suddenly running away thanks to the addition of .493 hitter and resident jackass Matt Holliday — will beat each other into bloody pulps by the time the season winds down and finish at or around .500. I still believe the East is too tough a division to produce two playoff teams. (The Phils are running away there as well, with Clifford Lee dominating N.L. batters, even in the band box that is Citizens Bank Park.) I still believe the Giants have a chance to make this a two-team race with the Rockpile. But if they're going to turn my faith into reality, they need to wake up the bats. Now.

The Giants have failed to rack up any prolonged stretches of brilliance this season. The five- and six- and seven-game winning streaks that mark well-crafted and durable teams. The kind of runs that could have put them back in the division race long ago or put some distance between them and the rest of the Wild Card pack. That deficiency has nothing to do with a pitching staff that still boasts the best team ERA in the majors (3.51). It has more to do with an offense that has never clicked on all cylinders at once.

Every player in the lineup has flashed their bat for weeks at a time, but not once have all the bats come together to put on the displays that generate sustained success. Pablo Sandoval has been a revelation, but even he has been prone to slumping thanks to his free-swinging, Vlad Guerrero-esque style at the plate. Bengie Molina's bat has only now started to come alive, but was truly needed in the season's opening months, when young talents like Panda and Schierholtz had yet to make an impact and the team was floundering around .500. Eugenio Velez was a pleasant surprise, but the shine is starting to wear off his cleats. And then there's Randy Winn, Aaron Rowand, and Edgar Renteria, a triumvirate of overpaid veterans hitting a collective .262 — and a weak .262 at that. F. Sanchez has certainly provided a spark at the top of the lineup, but without professional hitting lower in the order, there's nobody to knock him in.

Callers to the 50K-Watt juggernaut and commenters on local blogs regularly deride the team for failing to make a competetive offer for the likes of Holliday, as if one power bat would solve all of our problems. Let's not forget, the Cards already had a superstar in their lineup when they added the ass-head former Denver-ite — some kid by the name of Pujols. If Marvin Benard hit next to that guy in a lineup, he'd be a superstar, with or without the cream and the clear.

At this juncture, there's no point to constructive criticism of the Giants deadline deals. That's the past. This is the team we have now. And it's not a bad team. We're still ahead of schedule, still loaded with talent down on the Farm, still stacked with the finest pitching staff in the majors, and still within reach of the final playoff spot, the spot that propelled them to an N.L. pennant in 2002, the spot we all wish were available to them in 1993.

But games like last night's have a tendency to leave a sour taste in the mouth of the faithful, those of us who race home from work to catch the final innings of an East Coast roadie, who make the 45-minute trek up the Peninsula to stand in the bitter cold under the Arcade for three and a half hours (two and a half when Timmy or Matty pitch), who defend their boys against all enemies, foreign and domestic, who wear their orange to family functions and business meetings alike, and always with a sense of pride.

Here's hoping today's nationally-televised contest is the worm-turner that gets the Giants' season back on track. If not, it's time to start salivating for Madison Bumgarner's first start of Spring Training 2010.

¡Vamos Gigantes!