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.

Catching up.

As I've said before, the hardest part of being a part-time blogger is keeping on a schedule, especially if you spread your passion across a wide swath of industries, hobbies, and pastimes. Which I do. But that's really another way of saying I'm lazy. I have no problem admitting that sometimes baseball is the furthest thing from my mind, and sometimes I don't feel like I have anything to add to the conversation.

So if you're looking for a daily dish, go to the big boys like MCC or BASG. Me, I don't really do this for page views. You won't see any Google ads on this Google site. I come here to vent, to let loose, to get a healthy dose of catharsis. If somebody actually reads what I write and likes what they read, that's just the all-natural whipped cream on top of my gelato.

With that disclaimer out of the way, let's dig into some recent news and notes before we dig into our turducken...

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...

Countdown to Scottsdale #25: Cody Ross, OF

I sing the song of Cody Ross, the best waiver claim in the history of Major League Baseball. Who woulda thunk it that one of those Giant killers we love to hate would suddenly be thrust into the role of messianic October hero? Yet there he was, popping a pair of jacks off Roy Halladay to lead the Orange and Black to a Game 1 victory in the National League Championship Series. (Btw, as reported in many other reputable news outlets, Cody Ross spelled backwards is Ssory Doc.) And now it seems he's here to stay — at least for another year. But seeing as how we've only had the guy in the fold for a couple months of ball, who's to know what he could do over a full season with this Band of Misfits? (Hardcover out soon — pay Baggs his money!) And what a couple of months it was...

After being plucked off the Marlins' roster — primarily to keep the West-leading Padres from improving their chances down the stretch, it took #RossIsBoss a good little while to crack into the regular outfield rotation. Fans will recall that over the first three weeks of September, Jose Guillen was getting the majority of reps in right despite his gimpy legs and inconsistent bat. But Cody proved that patience is a virtue, contributing in key situations and waiting for his chance to shine. That chance came when Bruce Bochy and Brian Sabean decided it was in the team's best interests to keep Guillen off the postseason roster and plant Ross in right field. Permanently.

That's how it came to be that Cody Ross hit .294/.390/.686 for the postseason, that he was crowned NLCS MVP, that he lifted the trophy with all the little flags on it into the night on November the 1st in the year of the Giants. A-freaking-men for waiver claims!

Thanks, Cody.

A Week at the Cove

Cody Ross is human. This much we know. We also know the history of the Giants on the road with a chance to close out a seven games series. Hint for the uninitiated: It's not good. In 1987, the Giants left for St. Louis up 3-2 and brimming with confidence. They had One Flap Down. They had Will the Thrill. They had Kevin Mitchell. And then came Jose Oquendo. In 2002, the Giants won Game 5 at Pac Bell 16-4 and went back to Anaheim up 3-2. They had Rich Aurilia. They had Jeff Kent. They had Barry Bonds. The Angels had a Rally Monkey and Scott Spezio. We all know what happened there. So what, if anything, sets Gigantes v.2010 apart from those two tragically flawed teams? Pitching. Lots of it. From the first out to the 27th, this is the best staff in the league. Philly has the horses at the top, but our 'pen and the critical 4th starter set us apart. They can throw Baby Roy and Cole Hamels. We can counter with Dirty Sanchez and Shotgun Cain. Timmy and Big Roy split their starts. MadBum stepped up with the relief corps and Juan U-RIBE! to best Blanton's Boys in Game 4. If the other two parts of the Big Three split again, we win this series, and we'll look back on that triumphant sac fly bat flip from Uribe as the defining moment. We won the game that was set up for us to win. The rest is a crap shoot. Let's hope Dirty's rolling 7's tonight...

Game 3

Tuesday's game is still a blur. I got the day off work but had to bang out a PowerPoint before I left from San Jo in the morning, so brunch with my season ticket partner was out the window. We just started drinking. There was a funky haze lingering over the entire Bay Area that gave me pangs of fear... The daytime start meant the extra tickets we'd purchased and put up on StubHub were virtually worthless. Ducats were going for less than face online, and the lot was no better. We ended up selling low and eating $30. But at least we know some real fans got in. We don't mess with the scalpers. This town is full of vultures, vultures everywhere... We entered just as the jet fighters were buzzing the yard and settled in right along with Matt Cain, who looked his usual stoic self. When Babe Ross broke the ice with an RBI knock in the fourth, a sort of calm settled over the Cove — a thunderous orange calm, to be sure, but a calm nonetheless. Funny, a guy on the mound who'd never beaten Philly facing a lineup stacked with power, and we were one confident bunch with a 1-0 lead. Huff Daddy and Freddy Sanchez upped that to 3-0 — with an assist from Chase Utley, who's become quite the reliable adventure at second base — Javy Lopez shut down the big bats, and Weezy sent the kids home happy. The postgame was marked with two dinners, three bars, old friends, new friends, and an assortment of adult beverages that conspired to send me home with a silly smile stuck on my face...

Game 4 (with a Game 3 flashback)

How classic was that? 21-year old rookie pitches his heart out. Offense scrapes out a lead. Bullpen squanders the lead. The bats come screaming back. The Phils punch in a run to tie it late. Walk off win in the ninth. Too many storylines for a team of reporters to cover... It started for me with the National Anthem. The previous day, I'd regretted for the first time my regular bathroom trip during "God Bless America". I'll be honest, I'm as patriotic as the next guy, but songs where the separation of church and state is so blatantly ignored only serve to aggravate my sensibilities. So I use the opportunity to relieve myself and try to make it back to my seat in time for "Take Me Out To The Ballgame". But on Tuesday, as I was letting it out, I heard a familiar crooning pumped through the PA. When I got back to my seat, my lady friend had a silly grin on her face. I'd missed Zooey Deschanel. Fudgcicle. Oh well, the result of the game made me forget my regret real quick. But later that night over dinner, some newbies to the scene wondered aloud who would do the anthem the next day. I told them I would be shocked not to see Huey Lewis and the News before this playoff run was done. The next day, around 4:50, I sent one of the newbies a tweet: Called it. Long story short, I had a good feeling about this game the whole way... Of course, the wives in the Phillies family section in front of us did everything they could to kill my buzz. As I've mentioned before in this space, our season tickets are perched at the top of Section 104, which just happens to be where the opposing team reserves tickets for their loved ones, friends, and hangers on. My ticket partner and I have been known to do a good amount of what you might call "ragging" on this section. But we always keep it clean, and we try to keep it intelligent. This being the NLCS, we had a lot of immediate family members below us, so tensions were already pretty high before a pitch was even thrown. The team had flown in bodyguards to watch over the section during the series, and San Francisco's Finest were flanking the aisles at all times. For three games, we sat in the safest section in the park. And we didn't get the boot once. A miracle, really. Course, it helps to know your usher and make nice with the bodyguards during the game. But nothing could've prevented one of the wives from losing her shit around the bottom of the fourth and turning to us with her middle finger in the air and the f-bombs flying. After that, it was on. I felt bad about it later, especially since we kinda made her cry, but we kept it clean, we kept it intelligent, and most importantly, we kept it loud. You simply don't make it personal with the fans in a hostile environment. They're lucky we didn't puke on them...

Anyway, some thoughts on the game: Guess Buster Posey didn't get the memo that Cody Ross is supposed to drive in the first run of every game in this series. Okay, seriously, how crucial was it for somebody to step up and have a game whose name does not spell Ssory Doc backwards? Four hits, two doubles, and the play of the game, receiving a short-hop seed from Aaron Rowand to tag out Carlos Ruiz and preserve the Giants' lead — for another moment at least. The kid has been pressing through his first postseason, but he looked like the Buster we know and love on this night, particularly in the ninth, when he stroked a single down the right field line to send Huff Daddy to third and set up the heroics from U-RIBE! Speaking of clutch, how about getting down 0-2 and fighting off a bunch of nasty s*** before reaching out to somehow pull a low-and-away changeup deep enough to left to plate the winner? Uribe's pretty much penthouse or outhouse, all or nothing, titanic whiff or jazz hands. So a sac fly is not the first thing you'd expect in this situation. I, for one, called a home run, but after he got to two strikes, I'd pretty much given up on the AB. Good thing he hadn't. On the way out of the park, I stopped on the Portwalk and lit up an American Spirit. The crowds spilling out of the Lefty O'Doul gate were still caught up in the glow. "UUU!" went the call. "RI-BE!" went the response. And it carried on into the dark of night. No time to party hearty this evening. Save it for tomorrow. Giants on the verge, and it's gotta happen in five, right?

Game 5

We were late getting in. That's where it started. Yes, we scored early and Timmy looked possessed, but something was just not right. Maybe it was the rain, a strange October drizzle that seemed to hang around like an unwelcome house guest planted on your couch and eating all your food. Then came the third inning. Timmy plunked Ruiz with two strikes, and that empty feeling that had been building all day in my stomach bubbled over. I knew we were going to lose. Even as we staged a comeback. Even as we put together chance after chance, I knew it was a futile effort. We were going back to Philly. Even the wives in front of us knew it to be true, and though we chanted for them to "Go back to Philly!" the night previous, now that seemed the embodiment of our worst nightmares. I sunk inside myself and got very quiet, came alive at the appropriate moments, but mostly tried to let the game, the moment, the season sink in. After all, that could be the last time I saw that field in 2010. That could be the last time I saw that team. I wanted to remember the fun times. I didn't want to think about this latest round of torture. As the Philly bullpen cruised through the final innings, I took it all in, and I made a pact with myself: if we screwed the pooch in the City of Brotherly Love, I would not allow it to dictate my mood for the next six months. I would take it like a man and brush it off my shoulder like Jay-Z. We'll see in the next couple days whether or not I have to live up to my end of this bargain with myself, and if I can...

BTW...

>  I'm loathe to pick apart losses, especially when shoddy defense was the key contributor to the defeat, but a lot of people harped on it, so I wanted to point out one thing from Game 5. Cody "Superman" Ross got nailed at third base trying to move up on a Panda flyout in the fourth, after he'd just knocked in the Giants second run with a double. It was the third out of the inning, a fundamental error on the basepaths, and with seemingly little upside should he have succeeded. But at the risk of sounding like a Cody apologist, here was my take on the spot: Uribe's up next. With two outs, Halladay either walks him to get to Lincecum or throws him nothing but 55-foot sliders until he strikes out. I'm thinking Cody Ross bet on the latter and figured he might score from third on a passed ball. So he took a chance, and Jayson Werth uncorked a perfect throw — the only way to ring up a fairly quick runner. Again, I can't excuse, I'm just trying to explain. The double play certainly sucked some momentum away from the home team, but I don't believe it affected the outcome...

>  Fact: The Giants are 0-2 this postseason in games when orange pom poms are the free giveaway.

>  So, how are the Giants doing on fulfilling my series prediction? Well, let's just say that baseball loves to obfuscate, which is precisely why I don't believe in attempting to predict it. I still hold to my call that the best scenario for a San Francisco victory was a five-game series, but I have to admit defeat nearly across the board. I was fairly spot-on in my call for Game 1. The boys "kicked the ball around" — as Marty Lurie would say — and made my Game 2 pick look like wishful thinking... which it was. Matt Cain did not disappoint my prognostication, but the offense did, and Game 3 kept me on course for an all-around win. Game 4 didn't play out quite like I expected, but then again, it didn't turn out like anybody expected. Game 5, well, f**k. So it's back to Philly. And since I didn't make a call for Games 6 or 7 because I didn't want them to happen, Here's my take:

Dirty has to win it tonight. The offense will get him three or four runs off Oswalt, who I don't believe can shut down the Giants three starts in a row (going back to August), but he's got to hold the Phillies in check. If he can keep them off the board through the first turn of the batting order — which is normally not too difficult for him — the bats can put some wind in his lungs and confidence in his heart, and we can run out the clock. If they get on him early and he s***s the bed, the bats are going to have to light up the night. But even J.T. Snow hit three homers in one game at the Bank, so maybe a shootout wouldn't be as lopsided as everybody thinks. If we go down tonight, I'd usually say we didn't have a chance in Game 7, but this Teflon Team has surprised me all year. Why should they stop now? It would be up to Matt Cain to get away from his flyball pitcher M.O. and keep these guys on the ground. If he can do that, we've proven we can get to Hamels. But in the end, I think this will all come down to the bullpens. And if it does, we've got a fighting chance...

>  Watching the game at home today. Probably alone. I don't know what it is, but something about going to a bar and watching with a bunch of rowdy fans has always turned me off. Probably because both times I did that during the '02 series, we lost the freakin' game...

Enjoy the torture, everybody.

The Last Tweet... (A new feature)

Oct. 20th, 2:19 PM
@ArcadeDreams The Sun wasn't going to come out today, but Cody Ross was cold. #sfgiants #NLCS

4 down. 7 to go.

It's getting lost in all the talk about "Babe" Ross and the whistling for Timmy, but my personal favorite Mr. Clutch had what was probably the hit of the night. The Giants had just gone up 3-1 when Raul Ibañez misplayed Pat the Bat's double to the wall. Bochy predictably inserted "Nasty" Nate Schierholtz to run for Burrell. And Juan U-RIBE! stepped to the plate against a struggling Roy Halladay. He promptly mashed a seed up the middle to drive in Nate and adroitly took second on an ill-advised throw home. A timely hit, and even more timely hustle. If Fontenot finds a way to bleed one into left off the Doc, the game is suddenly approaching out of reach territory, and Charlie Manuel is likely gesticulating toward the bullpen. He's had a rough postseason thus far, but I shouldn't be the only Giants fan hoping that one AB can resurrect U's bat. No doubt he's a streaky hitter, but when he's streaking right, this team streaks right along with him. Don't be surprised if he puts a couple in the bleachers before this series is through, and definitely don't be shocked if they tie the game or put the G's ahead. That seems to be how he rolls. After all, while his RBI in Game 1 only served to pad the lead at the time, it proved to be the winning run...

BTW...

> So, my Game 1 prediction wasn't bang on, though I'll take full credit for nailing the end result: a W for los Gigantes. Neither starter got "lit up", but the G's made me look good by rapping 8 hits off the un-hittable Halladay, including the incessantly replayed identical twin doinks from Cody Ross. Didn't get the boost I was expecting from Aubrey Huff, but it's only a matter of time before that sleeping giant awakes. Big Time Timmy Jim punched the clock and gave us seven solid innings with only two real mistakes. (Honestly, in that park, giving up a couple first-row homers to right is par for the course.) And the combo of Javy Lopez and B-Weezy shut the door over the final six outs...

> I still stand by my call for Game 2. It's time for the Giants to make like Gordon Gekko and get greedy. I'm looking for Dirty Sanchez to come out hard and keep the place quiet long enough for his compadres to make a few dents in Oswalt's armor...

Best. Waiver. Claim. Ever.

Cody Ross was an afterthought. Cody Ross was a cast-off. Cody Ross was a Giant killer. Cody Ross has never been tagged on this blog. Cody Ross was the last guy you'd ever expect to be the Giants' NLDS MVP. But he was. And that's kinda how this series went. Brooks Conrad had become a household name in Hot-lanta with an epic debut after a decade in the minors. Dude hit two grand slams in like a week and was on the verge of becoming a local god. Then he made three errors in one game, and his highlight reel got boos from a less-than-full house in his home park. That's kinda how this series went. Matt Cain and Dirty Sanchez pitched absolute gems and came away with workouts, yet Sergio Romo has an unblemished postseason record of 1-0. The Braves were a virtual MASH unit for the better part of the series, yet they fought to make every game a one-run sphincter shrinker. Los Gigantes couldn't score with one out and the bases loaded, yet they could and did score twice with a runner at first, down to their final strike. That's kinda how this series went. And now, it's on to the next one. The next round of torture. The next chance for greater glory...

BTW...

> Can we get a "Hallelujah!" for Madison Bumgarner? Talk about full circle. Remember last year, and even Spring Training, when everyone was wondering, "What happened to MadBum?" What happened to that heat we've all heard about? What happened to that bulldog intensity? I hope y'all got your answer last night. Kid was off the chains good in a pressure situation on the road in front of 45,000 red foam tomahawks and an equal number of motivated hometown fans. If there were any doubts about holding my fellow Trojan Barry Zito off the roster, I think they've been answered. And then some...

> I freaking love Javier Lopez, but I love him for what he is: a LOOGY. For the uninitiated, that's a Lefty One-Out Guy. His two K's of Jason Heyward in Games 3 & 4 were the highlights of my week. Yet a postgame show does not pass my ears without a caller begging for Javy to see extended use against righthanders, even pitching full innings of setup. Of course, none of these yokels comes armed with the facts. And when I say "facts", I mean statistics: In the 2010 regular season, Javy Lopez (the pitcher) posted a .162/.250/.242 against lefties and a — wait for it — .306/.361/.405 against righties. I rest my case...

> Santiago Casilla. What the f***? Where did that come from? And where did Bochy get the brass balls to keep him out there for more than one inning? I think it's safe to say our manager has found himself in the postseason. There have been some serious head scratchers (more in a moment), but for the most part, he's rolling 7's, and he couldn't have expected Romo to wet the bed so brazenly...

> Okay, enough Bochy love. Let's indulge in a little second-guessing. It started with replacing Sandoval with Fontenot in Game 2, only to turn around and pinch hit Renteria for Fontenot an inning later. Didn't come back to haunt him because RIck Ankiel mercifully ended things before either bench was exhausted. But it surfaced again yesterday, when Bochy inexplicably pinch hit an ice cold Aaron Rowand for Fontenot against the Braves flamethrowing bullpen, knowing full well he'd have to burn another player to replace Fontenot on the infield. Enter Edgar Renteria, who made what could have been a game-changing error in the bottom of the 8th, shortly after entering the game. If Lopez hadn't woven his magic on Heyward, we could be talking about Game 5 tomorrow. My point is, it seems like Bochy's managing a 25-man roster like he would a 40-man September squad, burning through position players like Republicans spew fear and lies. So far, it hasn't bit him in the a**, but when you get away from yourself in the heat of the postseason, it's only a matter of time before it does. Just ask Dusty...

> Hats off to Bobby Cox. Dude was, is, and always will be a class act, and I was very proud to see our boys take a step back from their dance on Ted's infield to honor a man who's been managing longer than most of them have been alive. I resented the result of our '93 slugfest, so I was gratified by our LDS victories '02 and again this time around, but I'll never take a swipe at an honorable competitor. Enjoy your retirement, Bobby. Here's hoping you don't go crazy next April...

War Giants. Beat the Phillies. NLCS preview coming soon...