Countdown to Scottsdale #3: Juan Uribe, IF

I sing the song of Juan Uribe, second cousin of José, also known as UUU! RIBE!, the only man I've ever seen do a bat flip after connecting on a sacrifice fly, a good Giant once, but a Giant no more. Remember the looks on the faces of Philly phans when Juan's lawn dart eeked over the right field wall for an Oppo Taco? Like somebody ralphed on their cheesesteaks. Like they just shat themselves thinking about the season of their dreams being undone by this career reserve infielder who'd rediscovered himself with the Orange and Black. I really had to feel for them. We all should feel for them. You and me, we've been there, right? But there are two truths to this situation: 1. Philly got their title in 2008, everything else this decade will be gravy from a long-term perspective; and 2. Juan Uribe was preordained to hit that dinger.

"Jazz Hands" was an anomaly. He was a freak of nature. There won't be any way of knowing before Opening Day if the uniform gave him a lift. But I like to think that Jose's spirit seeped into the No. 5 jersey over the past two years, and found its way into Juan. His overall numbers won't show it, but every one of his 24 homers and 24 doubles in 2010 seemed to come in a clutch situation, and each of his 85 RBI seemed to win a game. He filled the void left by Pablo Sandoval's regression (and expansion), which could have sunk a lesser team with a shallower bench. Brian Sabean assembled quite the ragtag band of misfits, but he didn't splurge in any one area — beyond the obvious, ahem, Zito, ahem. He spread the payroll and built a very deep team around a killer pitching staff. And when it was time for them to shine, they all did, each in his own way.

Juan Uribe's entire raison d'etre as a Giant seemed to be to disrupt the confidence of the other team, to discourage the opposition with tomahawk chop, yuckadoo swings that either sent balls flying into the bleachers or into the stands directly behind the plate. He truly has no two-strike adjustment, swinging just as hard 0-2 as he does 2-0. And we may never know if he's allowed to swing away at 3-0 because he hardly ever gets that deep into an at bat. If there's any one thing that Miguel Tejada can replicate for the 2011 Post-Uribe Giants, it's that intensity. But his impeccable timing may prove difficult to match. We can only hope Juan doesn't come around to stick his jazz hands up our behinds like Rick Vaughn in the heat of a pennant race.

The day Uribe signed with the Hated Ones for just a few dollars more than the Giants were willing to offer over a slightly longer time period, I tweeted a good baseball friend: "I'm going to miss is our call and response." See, whenever Juan yanked one into the cheap seats, I'd unleash a joyous @ tweet to him: "UUUUUU!" and he'd respond in kind with "RIBE!". It started around mid-season and became a little tradition. A few minutes later, my friend tweeted back: "I guess we'll have to find another player to obsess over." Brandon Belt, anyone?

Thanks, UUU! RIBE!!!

Full Circle

Hang in there. This is gonna be a long one...

If you've been following this blog since I cranked up the squeeze box last season, you understand how I feel about Juan U-RIBE! Most of my love for the man can be traced to a cool evening at Safeco Field in May of 2009. The Giants had lost 8 of 9 to fall below .500 for the first time and managed just five runs while dropping the first four games of a roadie to San Diego and the Great Northwest. I arrived on the shores of Puget Sound late Friday night with tickets for the remaining weekend contests. My girlfriend at the time and I were sitting along the right field line Saturday night, marveling at the Japanese tourists and locals incessantly snapping photos of Ichiro — Ichiro stretching, Ichiro running, Ichiro stretching, Ichiro catching a fly ball... "Shotgun" Matt Cain gave up an early run but otherwise shut down the Mariners offense on a modicum of pitches, but as per usual, he received none run support, and we entered the eighth down 1-Love. In the seventh, los Gigantes had loaded the bases with one out and — surprise — failed to score, so when Bengie Molina singled with two out in the eighth, Randy Winn followed with a single, and Emmanuel Burriss walked to load the bases again, I wasn't exactly perched on the edge of my seat. This is where Juan Uribe comes up and whiffs on three straight sliders in the dirt, I thought to myself. But he got ahead 1-0, and the Seattle reliever threw him something he could elevate. He took it the other way into the right-centerfield gap to clear the bases, and I went absolutely ballistic. I don't often act the fool in another team's park. I like to show some respect. But this was no time for professional courtesy. I was giddy with delight, jumping around like a madman, probably scaring the bejeebus out of my g.f. And when Fred Lewis jacked one to right in the very next AB, I practically had a cow come shooting out of my ass. The Giants had just scored as many runs in one inning as they'd posted in their four previous games. Bolstered by the love from his bats, Matty breezed through the eighth and ninth to finish off a complete game 10-hitter. Seven Ks. No walks. Giants back in gear. Season pulled back from the brink. And even though we fell the next day on some late homers off Barry Zito, 2009 would never be the same. The Giants surged to September and were on the verge of a playoff spot before running out of gas, and I can't help but think the momentum from that night in Seattle is still elevating their game, driving them to greater and greater heights than anyone in their right mind deemed possible. This is a tremendous team, no doubt, with pitching to match any staff in postseason history. But like the cheesy advertising slogan says: There may just be some magic inside this place...

So why do I bother telling you this long-winded story? Well, my friends, baseball is a very cyclical game, down to its very core. And in the eighth inning of Game 2 of the World Series, the Giants led off with a pair of strikeouts, and my season ticket partner leans over and says, "We're gonna see U-RIBE! bat this inning." Never mind that he was five batters away with two outs. Never mind that this could very well be the last at bat the Giants take in this park in this magical season. Never mind that none of us wanted the dream to end. So when Buster Posey squeaked a single and the walk parade began, we just sat back and let it all sink in. Then, sure enough, Juan U-RIBE! was standing at the plate, and who should enter the game but the same reliever who toed the rubber for the Mariners on that cool night in May some 18 months ago. Mark Lowe came over to the Rangers in the Cliff Lee trade, and I have to believe it was fate that these teams should meet on this stage, that these two souls should face each other in an identical situation under vastly different circumstances. Did they remember the at bat that tied them together in Giants lore, if only in my mind? Was Lowe thinking about getting ahead, keeping the ball off the plate? Was U-RIBE! thinking of taking one the other way? I'll probably never know, and none of the other beat guys or bloggers seemed to grasp the significance, especially in the context of the insanity that was the bottom of the eighth. But it was a moment I'll never forget, and when U-RIBE! coaxed a rare walk to force in a run, I had to grin and shake my head. Some game. Some game...
 
BTW...

> U-RIBE! was a clutch player before he came to the Giants. He will continue to be clutch after he leaves. But he will never be forgotten in this town. From the sac fly in Game 4 against the Phils to the home run that won the National League pennant to the 3-run bomb to open up Game 1 with the Rangers to the RBI single that gave Matt Cain room to breathe late in Game 2... This guy doesn't get a ton of hits, but he gets them at absolutely the right time. It's something you can't teach, and even though he's a free swinger, you don't want him to change a thing, because when he runs into one, it usually goes a long way...

> Speaking of clutch, there's a reason you don't see me rag on Edgar Renteria very often, and the whole damn country got a fine example of it on Thursday night. Dude is playing with a partially torn bicep, and he still managed to get out in front of a fastball and drive it out to left to break a 0-0 tie, and he did it off a pitcher who'd given up 10 jacks all year. You might remember an even better example from late last season. On a Sunday, with the Giants needing a sweep at home against the Rockies to pull even in the Wild Card race, Edgar crushed a grand slam to left, bringing the Giants back from a late 3-run deficit and seemingly propelling them into the final stretch. Of course, we all know how last season turned out, but I'll remember that AB for quite some time. So when Edgar hit his dong off C.J. Wilson, it seemed to fit right into place...

> Enough has been written about Ian Kinsler's near-home run in the top of that ominous fifth inning, and I don't need to jump on the dog pile. Suffice it to say that the Giants blew a good opportunity to score in the bottom of the fourth, and that's usually when guys like Kinsler hit drives like that just to stick it up your you-know-where. But this one came back. Miraculously so. And you got the feeling that all the tears of the past had led to this moment of joy. We shall see if everything pans out in the end, but for now, the water feels fine...

> Somebody on the Twitter thing said the last 11 teams to win the first two games of a World Series at home have gone on to win the series. I love those kinda stats because they leave out the most important information, such as the average number of games it took for the eventual winners to finish off their opponents. Much as I'd love to see more baseball by the Cove this season, I won't be broken up if the Giants finish this off in short order under the big and bright starry nights of Arlington. In fact, there's part of me that would take a certain pleasure in watching our boys dance in front of both Bush 41 and 43 while Nolan Ryan hangs his head. But if it has to come back to China Basin, I'll be there, and so will 43,000 of my friends, and we will have a parade when it's done. And if our luck runs out between now and then, we'll go back to our lives, no better or worse, just another notch on the bedpost of our discontent...

> There's a reason I don't have much to say about Game 1, and that's because I got me a little bit drunky on Racer 5 and PBR and have very few distinct memories that stand out beyond the game, which you all saw. I can tell you that I crossed the line with the Rangers families pretty early on, and once the boys rebounded from an early deficit and knocked Lee out of the game, I had a damn good time racking up a stack of World Series commemorative cups. The big bummer of the evening came outside on the Portwalk after the game, when I lost my season ticket holder card while chatting up the mother of a Rangers' reliever who hadn't made the World Series roster. Hopefully, it ended up in the Cove where all Giants relics belong... As you can tell from this post, I made it home safely thanks to a animal-style stop at In-N-Out, but I vowed that I'd be a good boy the next night...

> Here's what I will say about Game 1: Before the series started, I'm on record as saying if the Giants beat Cliff Lee, they win the series. I wasn't alone in that prediction, but I was certainly one of the few who thought they could actually do it. Sure enough, dreams can come true. But not without a little luck, and not without a little mojo. Everyone in the park for these two games could feel it. Something in the air, something in the water, something in the garlic fries... Something is percolating by the Bay, and it feels an awful lot like destiny. But we'll see where the gods take things from here...

> When we got inside on Thursday, Bengie Molina's mom was sitting in my seat. It's not uncommon for people with SRO tickets to wind up crashing until we arrive, but this was a VIP, and we couldn't just give her the ol' heave ho, especially since her knees wouldn't allow her to get down to the family seats below us. They offered me her seat in exchange for mine, but as a man of superstition with a strong distaste for sitting amongst the enemy in my own park, I couldn't give up my post. So we compromised. They pulled over a loose chair and plopped her down next to me in the open space reserved for wheelchairs. I was honestly a little hungover from the night before, and as such in less of a mood for obnoxious taunting, so the timing of this encounter actually worked out pretty well. She didn't speak any English, so I got to dust off my Spanish, and did okay, mas o menos. I told her to tell Bengie that he was a great Giant and that we all still love him. I really hope he gets the message. That b.s. Sabean dropped about having plans to trade him all along really rubbed me the wrong way. Not very professional. but whatever, the guy's usually a class act. Anyway, we took a picture with Bengie's mom which I'll post here at some point. Really cool to kick back and enjoy a game with a woman who's got some great baseball genes, though I can't say she cared much for our renditions of "Lights" or "Livin' On A Prayer"...

In response to all of your queries, I have no idea where I'm watching Game 3. I guess it all depends on whether or not I want to be around people when Dirty does his dirty thing. He and I have this kinda love-hate thing goin' on, and it makes me a little weird. Anyway, enjoy the proceedings from wherever your perch might be...

The Last Tweet...

Oct. 28th, 10:20 p.m.

@ArcadeDreams If you didn't know Matt Cain before tonight, now you know. #sfgiants #WorldSeries #YesWeCain

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...

119 down. 43 to go.

Four games is nothing. We can make up four games, but not if we can't do one very simple thing: Beat the f**king Padres! Seriously. This is not hard. The Diamondbacks do it, the Dodgers do it, even the Rockies do it. Why can't the Giants? Are they in our heads? Do they know better than us how to win in our own park? Do they put some sort of voodoo curse on the visiting clubhouse whenever we visit their Dog Park? Is this some kind of cosmic joke on Giants fans? Or is it karma for all those years of walking in and flat out owning Jack Murphy nee Qualcomm Stadium — both on the field and in the stands? Probably all of the above. But it doesn't matter. We have to beat these guys, or we're not going anywhere this season. Seven games left, three in our house to close the season, and every one of those games is HUGE. I'm calling it right now: The Orange and Black MUST win at least five of these seven remaining games with the Friars to have a chance to win the West. We can drop six of seven and still back into the Wild Card. But that scenario is too dependent on the performance of other teams, and I don't know about you, but I couldn't stand making the playoffs without having proven that we can (at least) compete with the best team in our division. Plus, it's incredibly possible that we meet them in the NLCS. (Let's call that scenario "Butch's Worst Nightmare.") So the long, short, and in-between of it all is this: Beat the f**king Padres. Of course, it'd be nice to win at least a couple games on this roadie to the hot-and-humid infernos of Philly at St. Lou, but let's not ask too much of the Mudville Nine. They've already got enough to worry about...

BTW...

> As Mychael Urban said on Sunday afternoon's Sportsphone, it is officially time to start the worry meter on Big Time Timmy Jim. Whether or not he snaps out of this funk could determine the course of these final 43 games. My worst fear that will likely prove true: The kid slacked on his conditioning during the offseason — "Puff, puff, give..." — and has already run out of gas. If that's true, he's done for the year, and we may as well not make the postseason. I have to imagine if it truly was a mechanical problem as Tim suggests, Big Daddy Chris would've pulled a Father Knows Best and corrected his ultimate creation by now. To be continued after Saturday's start in the St. Louis heat...

> Much I love his defense and have his career numbers memorized, I have to say Freddy Sanchez looks like absolute garbage right now, and he's said as much as well. Good thing someone went and got this Fontenot guy to shore up the middle infield, especially with Edgar back on the mend. And I have to give a shoutout to the Chron's John Shea, who tweeted his ideal lineup following the Guillen acquisition with Buster in the two-hole. Nice call @JohnSheaHey...

> In the midst of this crushing series loss to the Fathers and a 12-game winless streak for the starting staff, I'd be remiss to ignore the fine work of the Giants bullpen of late. These guys have really plugged the leaks and kept us in this hunt, and it's due in no small part to the reinforcements brought in my Sabes and the brass before the deadline...

> Good to see Bochy's been reading my Twitter feed. Anyone else think U-RIBE! should've bunted in the bottom of the 11th on Saturday?

> Would've meant more in terms of momentum if they'd closed out the series with a W, but Saturday's win was absolutely crucial. Without it, we're staring at a 6-game deficit and probably thinking Wild Card. And the crown jewel of Saturday's comeback was that it happened against the vaunted San Diego bullpen. There ain't nobody gonna tell me our boys lack heart, perseverance, and determination. Unlike years past, we are never out of a game, no matter the deficit, because the 2010 Giants just don't quit...

¡Vamos Gigantes!

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.

101 down. 61 to go.

And then, it was 20... Kinda felt like a playoff game as opposed to a weeknight tilt against one of the league's younger teams. The heated atmosphere even came through in HD. So much to praise from this one: we held our own against the hottest pitcher in the game; we hung three runs on his line for the first time in three months; Juan U-RIBE and Edgar "Dude, where's my bat speed?" Rentería came up huge against the Florida bullpen;  Buster stayed hot and is fast approaching Stretch McCovey's San Francisco hit streak record; Aaron "Automatic 0-2" Rowand picked up another pair of hits; Serg and B-Weezy held it down in relief of a hit-and-miss Shotgun Cain... I could go on, but let's just say this: Good win, boys. Didn't hurt that the Hated Ones shut out the Fathers in San Diego, putting the Orange and Black just 2.5 back in the West, the closest they've been in months. That's not to say Butch was thinking blue. It's still far too early in this race to start rooting for the Doyers. Besides, we're leading the Wild Card Division, so who cares about the West, right? BTW: If you're lovin' Weezy's new bright orange kicks, check out this item from Henry Schulman's Splash blog on SFGate.com. According to the Twitter feed of CSN's Amy G, Wilson received the questionable cleats unsolicited from Nike. Apparently, they magically appeared in his locker at the All-Star Game in Anaheim. This makes me wish Phil Knight would visit in the middle of the night and leave a pair of Jordans in my closet. How 'bout it, Phil?

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.

The Sun's Anvil

82 wins. No matter what, remember that this team truly was greater than the sum of its parts.

Monday, September 21st
Giants 5, Diamondbacks 4
WP: Romo (5-2); LP: E. Vasquez (3-3); S: Wilson (35)
HR: AZ - Reynolds (43)

I went to the Valley of the Sun for a September series back in aught-3. I remember thinking Downtown Phoenix looked pretty dead at one in the afternoon on a weekday. If I had to guess, I’d say it had something to do with the triple-digit temps. But modern engineering is somethin’ else. You walk through two sets of glass doors — past the ubiquitous 2001 World Series trophy — and you’re hit with a glorious blast of 72° air. When you make it to your seat, you marvel at how open and spacious a domed stadium can be. That sensation definitely does not come through on TV.

What does come through is that Giants starters are not getting it done. This marked the fourth game in a row in which they didn’t make it through five and the seventh consecutive contest without our starter collecting a W. Tonight’s victim was Barry Zito, who coughed up not one but two leads to a team playing far south of .500 and appears to have rediscovered that inconsistent streak with which we’ve all grown so familiar.

You’ve got to give it up to the ‘pen for another boffo performance — particularly Brian Wilson, who’s certainly found his groove down the stretch. Over the past few games, this band of brothers has effectively stolen the show from the best rotation in baseball. Luckily, Fred Lewis’ speed made their efforts worthwhile.

Franny Watch

God help me, I want to be happy that Franny’s getting some action, but there’s no positive way to spin this. UPDATE: Even worse news.

Regardless, K-Fran took an 0-fer in three trips.

Stat of the Night

The Giants scored an above-average five runs while going 1-for-11 with RISP.

Quote of the Night

"It was Fred Lewis running. That's why I hit him. He's tougher to double up than Frandsen. Thank goodness for speed." - Bruce “The Shaman” Bochy, obviously not a man to mince words

Tuesday, September 22nd
Diamondbacks 10, Giants 8
WP: Davis (8-13); LP: Cain (13-7)
HR: AZ - Ryal (3)

Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, or at least that’s what my mother used to say when I told her I was close to finishing my chores. I’ve got another maxim I like to live by: When you’re up by four, you must win that game... especially when you get that lead against Doug Davis! The Giants experienced an epic fail in this situation thanks in no small part to a lack of stuff from my fantasy stud and permanent player of the second fiddle, Matt Cain.

To say that he looked terrible would not even begin to do justice to his performance. It was, quite simply, the worst you’ll ever see him. But you know what? He’s gonna come back in five days against the Cubs and show us how quickly he regains his focus and competitive edge. He’s been doing it as a Giant for four years, but it’s one of those things you can’t teach. It’s something you’re born with and nurture over a lifetime.

It’s safe to say Matt Cain has passed the trials of youth and emerged on the other side as a true craftsman. But tonight, he crafted a pretty ugly defeat for the Orange and Black, which took on an added frustration when the Rockies rallied (again) to beat the Fathers in Denver.

Once again, the bullpen was called upon to chow down on some innings as the Giants failed to get five out of a starter for the fifth straight game, and aside from a brain fart from starry-eyed rook Waldis Joaquin and a dong off Randy Johnson — likely making his final career appearance in ‘Zona — they rocked the house: 6.2 IP, 3 R, 3 BB, 7 K.

Consider it another benefit of having the second-least-used bullpen in the bigs coming into September that the Giants have survived this bleak stretch with any victories at all.

Butch’s BTW

Props to the umps for getting it right on the replay of Gerardo Parra’s blast to right-center. I thought it was gone until I watched the extreme slo-mo replay twice.

Franny Watch

OMG, grab your socks and hose and pull: Franny got a start! Unfortunately, the hits just aren’t finding K-Fran’s bat this season. He went 0-for-2 but worked a walk and scored on Matt Cain’s triple. (You did not mis-read that.) As of this game, his BA stands at a robust .149 with an OBP of .216, which shows that even though he can’t hit his way out of a wet paper bag, he might be able to walk out of it.

Stat of the Night

Merkin Valdez’s scoreless inning marked the first time since August 17th that he retired three batters without allowing an earned run.

Oh yeah, and Baggs points out the Giants were 22-0 before tonight when scoring eight or more runs. Yeah, I had to read that twice, too.

Quote of the Night

"He just left a lot of balls over the plate. If you look at our hits, they are catching a lot of white. Normally he is on the corners with his fastball and slider." - Mark Reynolds, who took a hat trick with three Ks to break his own year-old MLB record and at some point doubled to knock in his 100th RBI. Talk about feast or famine.

Wednesday, September 23rd
Giants 5, Diamondbacks 2
WP: J. Sanchez (7-12); LP: Mulvey (0-2); S: Wilson (36)
HR: SF - Uribe (14)

Leave it to Jonathan Sanchez to snap the starting staff out of a funk that saw Timmy and Matty lose in the same rotation turn for only the second time all year. Granted, he only made it through five and an out, but Bochy is quite obviously playing his cards every night like it’s Game 7 of the World Series. There’s no time to see if Sanchy works out his kinks in the sixth. The inning must end. The lead must be preserved. The game must be won, or the season is over, for reals, and we mean it this time. This cavalier attitude quite likely contributed to the now-snapped streak of five starts short of five innings.

It’s not hyperbole to say that Juan Uribe was the Giants offense prior to the seventh inning. The man had the team’s only two hits, and those hits drove in all the runs we needed off D-Backs’ young starter, Kevin Mulvey, who otherwise befuddled our bats in a re-run of a program we’ve seen before this year. If there is an improbable — and virtually impossible — run left in this team, it will be made on the back of the beloved nephew of a beloved Giant. Say it with me: “U! RIBE!”

Now, I’m not gonna bitch and moan about the Freddy Sanchez deal and what a jackass Brian Sabean is and how the entire front office needs an enema. I’m not gonna criticize that deal because the same front office went out and got Juan Uribe off the scrap heap for a cool $1M. The same front office drafted Tim Lincecum, Matt Cain, Brian Wilson, Pablo Sandoval, and yes, Buster Posey. The same front office gave this franchise its most prolonged streak of success in my lifetime. And the same front office has built a seven-team organization that posted the best overall win percentage in baseball this year. So I’m not gonna knock the Sanchez deal.

I am gonna knock Freddy for not being honest and forthright up front. If he’d told the truth about his knee, he might still be in Pittsburgh, where he claims he was so happy. But I guess you can’t blame him when the Giants were offering him a chance to play on the first winning team of his career.

Butch’s BTW

Reliever Jeremy Affeldt picked up his league-leading 33rd hold with a perfect eighth, prompting the question: What the hell is a hold?

Oh yeah, and tonight, the umps had it right the first time. But what is it about disputed home run calls in Phoenix?

Stat of the Night

Merkin Valdez’s scoreless inning marked the first time since August 17th that he retired three batters without allowing an earned run.

Quote of the Night

"Hopefully, Penny can come back tomorrow and go even deeper." - J. Sanchez, apparently unaware of the double entendre his choice of words invoked

Series debrief

How often do the Giants score 18 runs in a three-game series? Okay, not as infrequently as I suspected when first scrawling down the question, but not all that often either. To be precise, it’s happened seven times in 37 three-gamers this season — twice against the Astros. (It also happened over three games of the July four-gamer with the Pads that featured Sanchy’s no-no.) The last occurrence came in Houston at the beginning of August, when the G-Men notched a whopping 21 runs at one of the high points of their season.

Regardless, it’s good to see at least a little consistency from the O-fence. Granted, they’re still not getting hits with RISP, but at least they’ve stopped getting all single-happy and started making their hits count. One run-scoring hit in a 5-4 victory Monday, and tonight, five runs on four hits. On Saturday in Los Angeles, the G-men scored one run on 10 hits in a 12-1 defeat. I don’t know about you, but the latter circumstance is much more frustrating from the fan perspective.

——

Editor’s note

You may have already noticed a delay with some of my recent posts. Obviously, as the season winds down and playoff hopes begin to dim, the sense of urgency to blog my every thought wanes. That and work’s been kinda busy lately, and I don’t exactly get paid for sharing these little insights with you, my (three) loyal readers. Regardless, I will push on through and finish out the season right alongside our boys.

We’ve already passed the 81-win mark, ensuring a .500 season or better. But with a four-game gap and ten to play, it’s all over but the crying. In the season’s final posts, I’ll try to blend remorse for the passing of the 2009 campaign with optimism for the years ahead. God knows, there’s a lot of it to go around. I’ll also make a few bold predictions and add my own two cents as to where the Giants should look to improve (um, offense?) and where they should just stop tinkering (um, pitching?).

So stay tuned. The fat lady might be singing for the G-Men, but Butch is still fired up and ready to go.

A Run is a Run is a Run

There’s winning ugly, and then, there’s just winning, by any means necessary...

Friday, September 4th
Giants 3, Brewers 2
WP: Medders (4-1); Coffey (4-4); S: Wilson (33)
HR: SF - Molina (17)

How did we win this game? No, really, how did we win this game? I went into a political potluck in the bottom of the fifth. Barry Zito had just struggled through four rough innings, but the Giants were still in the game. Of course, they were finding new and exciting ways to keep off the scoreboard, and another chance went squandered in the top of the fifth. Then, Justin Miller came out and walked the first two guys he faced. I shut off the radio and went inside.

Two hours later, after snacking on garbanzo salad and egg rolls, I came back out to my car and turned the radio on. The boys were in the middle of the postgame wrap, and it took me a few seconds before I figured out they were celebrating a victory. I pounded the steering wheel in disbelieving jubilation. By the time I watched the highlights, I already knew the tale, and it made perfect sense. After all, any improbably victory always begins with a break. This break, as with the best of them, had history.

I’d go into all the juicy details, but before I could put my thoughts down on virtual paper, Andy Baggarly went and beat me to it (see second note). I suppose I could tell you it was the first thing that flashed across my mind’s eye when I saw the replay of Cameron’s Jose Cruzian drop, and I could hope you’d believe me. But it just goes to show that great minds think alike.

Kudos to Bengie Molina for keeping his focus after the Buster Posey call-up and subsequent heartwarming chat with Bochy. He’s taken a lot of flak for a guy who’s been the most valuable player on the team since 2006, but he goes out there and does his job — and does it well — day after day, night after night. This is the second go-ahead jack he’s launched in a little more than a week. The last one he hit on one leg. If there’s anybody out there who questions Big Money’s determination and intensity, you’d be wise to start paying attention. He’s going to earn his keep in September.

In the end, all thanks are due to the ‘pen, which recovered from Miller’s dubious entrance to shut down the Brew Crew over the final five frames, paving the way for the unlikeliest victory of the season.

Stat of the Night

The Giants won despite their pitchers combining for 10 walks, a season high.

Quote of the Night

“When I saw the first one had a lot of movement, I for sure didn’t want the kid to lose the game in a slider or changeup.” - Bengie Molina, on the fastball-heavy debut of rookie ladder-climber Dan Runzler

Saturday, September 5th
Giants 3, Brewers 2
WP: Cain (13-4); LP: Gallardo (12-11); S: Wilson (34)
HR: SF - Uribe (10)

Well, that took long enough. Seven winless starts must’ve been enough for Matt Cain, who gave everything he had over seven-plus, and it must’ve been enough for the rest of the Giants, who scratched out three runs and held on for dear life as the spry but powerful arms of Ryan Braun and the sheer girth of Prince Fielder sought to crush the dreams of our unassuming ace, who finally equaled his career high for Ws. After that six-week ordeal, No. 14 should be a breeze.

I can’t tell you how much it would’ve hurt to lose this one. When you’re playing in a yard with as many ghosts as Miller Park has for the Giants, you’ll take every break, every hit, every run, every win you can get. And this one was surely gettable. But that didn’t prevent our heart attack boys from nearly letting another one get away.

You can’t say enough about Brian Wilson’s guts. To come out and shut the door the past two nights, especially after the goings on during the Giants’ last visit here, takes a short memory and a whole lot of swagger. It’s pretty obvious Big Weezy has both. That said, there’s not a day goes by without me wishing he hadn’t made this the Year of the Mohawk in the Giants’ clubhouse. Pretty soon, Bochy’s gonna be rockin’ one, and then we’ll know the rapture is near.

Like many of the Giants, Juan Uribe has no two strike adjustment. He’s got no adjustment at all, really. No matter the count, the situation, the score, this guuy goes up there thinking one thing and one thing only: Yuck-a-doo! His swings are so violent, I sometimes worry he might hurt himself one of these days and not be able to run out another monster home run. (Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to the Giants this season.)

Tonight’s blast from “U-RIBE!” was an instant classic. One pitch after fouling one deep into the left field stands, the Heart of the Giants straightened one out and drove it deep into the seats in fair territory. The sequence was so ridiculous that Fox national play-by-play man Dick Stockton sounds comically surprised by the actual home run. (Eric Karros, meanwhile is his usual Giants-hating self, abandoning all pretense of objectivity the minute he sits down in the booth.)

The broadcasting combinations regurgitated upon the American people by Fox Sports are enough to make even the most casual fan want to puke.

Stat of the Night

Not all that quietly, Uribe is hitting .321 over his last 17 games, with five homers and seven RBI.

Quote of the Night

"He's bull strong.” - Bochy on Cain

Sunday, September 6th
Brewers 2, Giants 1 (12)
WP: Stetter (4-1); LP: Valdez (2-1)
HR: MIL - Fielder (37)

Prince Fielder had better not show his face in San Francisco until the Brewers return here in 2010. If he does, the fat f**k may not make it out in one piece.

This all started out so well. Three batters, two hits, run. How hard is that? Well, I probably should’ve taken Renteria’s inability to lay down a bunt as a bad omen. But when this team scores, you tend to overlook the whys and the wherefores. The run is the end. The means matter not... Eleven innings later, I was creaming for a sacrifice bunt, a sacrifice fly, a grounder to the right side, a ground ball with eyes, anything but more of the same futility.

Anyone who got up on a soap box earlier this season and demanded that Jonathan Sanchez be traded for a bucket of warm beer and a bat should be prepared to eat a whole face full of crow if the kid can maintain this level of composure and excellence. I saw this stat in Baggs’ notes, and I had to read it again to make sure I wasn’t having an acid flashback:

Over his first nine road starts, Sanchez went 0-8 with a 6.60 ERA. Since his first road win at Houston on August 4th, he's 2-1 with a 1.16 ERA and .154 opponent's average in five starts away from the Cove. That, my friends, is unreal.

Many more props are due to the ‘pen for another gargantuan effort, especially to habitual tough-luck loser Bob Howry, who was saved from yet another L by the soft hands of a Panda. So hats off to Medders, Runzler, Romo, Howry, and Valdez. The game may never have seen a more dominant starting staff, but they’re backed up game after game by the most relieving relief core in the bigs.

As for Fielder the Younger... I understand his daddy didn’t treat him right and he’s got some maturity issues, but someone has got to check this guy before his attitude gets out of hand. Anyone who follows the A’s knows that someone won’t be Ken Macha, who has to be the most uninspiring field general in the history of professional sports. (This guy looks lost down there in the dugout, looking to the heavens for answers as his team collapses in the summertime heat — yet again.) I say Bob Uecker should get up in the big fatty’s grill and give him a lesson in respect.

It’s a lesson he sorely needs to learn before his health — and the health of his teammates — is put in jeopardy by his endless antics. Of course, his love of the postgame buffet table could be more hazardous to his health than the next pitch thrown his way by a Giants pitcher.

Butch’s Btw

Lost is all of this, a-way back in the first inning, Gino Velez made the defensive play of the year. Rowand’s catch to preserve the no-hitter was an instant classic, but this was an impossible play, and Count Chocula made it look easy.

Oh yeah, and Aaron Rowand became the first Giant to hit into a triple play since J.T. Snow on August 5, 1998.

Stat of the Night

The Giants are an even 19-19 in one-run games this season. In those 38 games they've scored 97 runs... and allowed 97 (2.5 per game).

Quote of the Night (Wise Opponent Edition)

"Everybody out there throws a gazillion mph. Their whole pitching staff is good. I think that's why they're in the race, because they have good hitters over there who aren't hitting right now. Every game they win or lose is by one run." - Brewers second baseman Felipe Lopez

Series debrief

You can’t be upset about the last one when you probably should’ve lost the first one and you won the one in between by the slimmest of margins. It was a microcosm of a road trip that saw the Giants hold two of the highest-scoring clubs in the league to nine runs and find a way to split six games. But you can’t be upset. You can’t be upset because this is the team we have to work with. Nothing has changed all season and nothing projects to change between now and October 4th. This team is going to have to find a way to be two games better than the Rockies down the stretch. With 16 of 25 remaining games at home, where they enjoy the best record in the NL and seem to play with a bit more spring in their step, I like their chances.

They’ll have to put another rough one in the rearview and focus on today, but they’ve done it all season long. By now, it should be old hat. (Need I mention an 8-4 record post-Spilborghs?)

Wear your orange and bring your game face. It’s officially crunch time.

Hangovers & Hated Ones

It’s okay, Chicken Little! You can put away the noose! The sky isn’t really falling... yet.

Monday, August 10th
Hated Ones 4, Giants 2
WP: Kuroda (5-5); LP: J. Sanchez (5-10); S: Broxton (25)
HR: SF - Ishikawa (8); Molina (14)

One pitch. That’s all it takes to ruin a pitcher’s day.

Jonathan Sanchez threw that pitch to Matt Kemp in the top of the fourth, and Kemp cleared the sacks. That J. Sanchez survived to pitch a stellar fifth is testament to his newfound confidence. But for one inning, it was the Sanchy we all know and try to love: teetering on the brink of a full-on physical and mental breakdown.

One inning. That’s all it takes.

To all the squakboxes who like to quack about the Giants’ lack of pop: They’ve been putting on a power display of late, and how much do they have to show for it? I love watching Ishi and Bengie go deep as much as the next guy — a bit more seeing as how they’re on my fantasy team. But if Fred Lewis — or anybody, for that matter — is on base at the time, a home run is a lot more effective.

In a bit of news that’s hard to categorize, the Hated Ones announced No. 1 starter Chad “Barbara” Billingsley will miss at least one start with a sore leggy-poo and be replaced this turn by journeyman a-hole Jeff Weaver. Here’s hoping Chad’s got some good painkillers and that he’s out for a wee bit longer than anticipated, and also that someone talks a little s**t to Weaver during Wednesday’s game.

Oh yeah, stay hot Eugenio Velez.

Stat of the Night (Road team edition)

The Dodgers’ 31-12 record against the N.L. West this season is the best intra-division mark in the Show.

Quote of the Night

"This is not the way you want to start a series but it's not desperation time. We need to relax and play our game." - Bruce Bochy, Zen Master

Tuesday, August 11th
Hated Ones 9, Giants 1
WP: Wolf (6-6); LP: Martinez (2-1)
HR: LA - Ramirez (13); Kemp (16)

One play. That’s all it takes to turn the momentum of a game.

I’m sitting here, still thinking about it. If he’d let it go through, Velez would’ve grabbed the ball right on the bag and had an easy turn of two. Instead, he made a circus play that would’ve made it to the top of the Web Gems... had he not knuckled one to Gino, who conveniently dropped the dime. And the Boys of Summer were off and rolling again.

You have to feel for Joe Martinez. He was acting on instinct, and he made a tremendous play. But as he knows all too well, the game can be cruel. And so can Manny Ramirez. Seriously, when Casey Blake is “defending” him in the five hole, why would anyone pitch to this guy?

Speaking of ManRam... Don’t know if anyone else noticed, but there was a pretty thick cloud hanging over the Cove on Tuesday night, and it wasn’t the “marine layer”. For years, we learned to live with our own embarrassment of a left fielder because he was our embarrassment and when you strip away all the hype and the dope, he was still the greatest hitter many of us have ever seen live. We heard the Think Blue Mafia chant “Bar-roid” and “Barry Sucks” — even when Bonds wasn’t playing! They booed him, they taunted him, and through it all, we defended him because he was electric.

Pot, meet kettle.

Btw, I have to admit, I couldn’t deal in the 7th. The mediocrity was simply too much to take. The fact that it was coming from Brandon Medders made less sense than the endless string of hits he allowed. This guy has dealt all year, but for one inning, he looked like garbage. But one inning is all it takes, sometimes.

Stat of the Night

Eugenio “Babe” Velez’s 16-game hitting streak ended with an 0-for-3, but he made the most productive of the Giants 27 outs, driving in Fred Lewis with a 3rd-inning groundout. He had one last chance to collect a knock in the 8th, but he was hit by a pitch that first bounced in the dirt. During the streak, Velez hit .420 (29-for-69) with three homers and 11 RBIs. It was the Giants' second-longest streak of the season, trailing only a 17-game run by Aaron Rowand.

Wednesday, August 12th
Giants 4, Hated Ones 2 (10)
WP: Wilson (4-5); LP: Mota (3-4)
HR: SF - Uribe (5)

You always hear the cliché when someone’s talking about another sport: “You don’t want the refs deciding the game.” Kobe says it about basketball. Mike Nolan used to bitch about it in (American) football. And just this week, Tiger mouthed off about the officials at a golf tournament. Read that last sentence again, and bear in mind Mr. Woods won the match.

My point is, you don’t often hear that excuse in baseball. Because 99.9% of the time, umpires effectively render themselves invisible. Think about the sheer number of calls made by a four-man crew over the course of a single game. Now think about how often you actually see a call worth questioning, even after rewinding and replaying your DVR recording of the play at least fifty times at six different speeds.

That said, the umpires almost gave this one to the Hated Ones, and luckily I’m not an employee of MLB or any of its franchises, so I can say that without getting fined. On no less than three separate occasions, this crew absolutely and unequivocally blew the call.

The first time, it cost the Giants a rally. The final time, it cost Tim Lincecum a complete game victory and on any given Wednesday could have cost the Giants the game. The time in between, it added insult to injury after one of the scrappier tiffs this rivalry has produced of late. It got so bad out there, the Giants had their manager ejected... twice. (That has to be a first for Ron Wotus. I’ll have the research team check it out.)

A quick note on the bench-clearing petting zoo: Russell Martin doesn’t have to prove how hard he is. He’s a Major League catcher. That should be enough. Instead, he had to wave his d**k around in Panda’s face, and Panda didn’t do nothin’ to nobody. So back off, Junior, or you’re goin’ on the list right under Casey Blake.

And now a note or two about the baseball:

Redemption, like revenge, is a dish that is best served cold, and it tasted awfully sweet when Juan Uribe lit up Guillermo Mota on an 10th inning 0-2 mistake to send everybody home googly eyed and grinning. In a lot of ways, it had to be Juan Uribe.

This is the same Juan Uribe who left seven men on base earlier in the game. The same Juan Uribe who fouled off a hanging Mota breaking ball earlier in the same AB. The same Juan Uribe who made what could have been a costly an error on an easy bloop in the top of the inning.

Looking back at this semi-disastrous homestand and taking into account the Giants’ position in the playoff race, this was a huge moment. Biggest of the season. The lead was blown, but the Giants were still alive. Still alive in the Wild Card. Still alive in the West. Brian Wilson just laid down the law with four strikeouts. If something was going to happen, it had to happen soon. As in now.

This was a must-win game before the first pitch, but it became an absolutely positively have to win or you can kiss your season goodbye kinduva game right around the time Uribe rounded third and everybody took a moment to think about what we would’ve been facing if the Hated Ones prevailed... Swept by the rivals at home, headed on a brutal 11-game trip, to the East Coast, in the dog days.

I felt these same emotions surging through my bloodstream once before this season. It was a warm May night in Seattle. Call this movie Unlikely Hero Redux.

P.S. Anybody get goose bumps when Wilson struck out Casey Blake to start the 10th? Much better revenge than plunking him. And just think, if they’d won this in nine, we would’ve missed a classic AB.

Stat of the Day

Before Freddy Sanchez’s RBI single in the fifth, the Giants had been 0-for-14 with RISP in the series. They were a whopping 1-for-18 by the end of it.

Quote of the Day

"I was worried about running out of managers today." - Bruce Bochy, who was ejected in the second inning (Interim manager and Bench Coach Ron Wotus was ejected in the ninth.)

Series debrief

Giants pitching shut down their rivals’ offense for 22 innings over the three-game series. In the other five innings, the San Francisco staff allowed 15 runs — 13 in three innings through the first two games.

The big inning has been a Giant killer all year, and the Hated Ones are built for crooked numbers. Their lineup is solid from top to bottom, and they jump on every mistake you make and every gift you hand out.

The Giants were far too generous with their charity in the opening two games, but no one can fault their valiant performance against a 13-man squad on Wednesday. Sure, you need to score with the bases loaded and nobody out, but it’s hard to complain about some good ol’ fashioned drama as evidenced at 24 Willie Mays Plaza this week.

I could tell you guys were into it. Wanna know how? Because I still heard you cheering in the bottom of the ninth on Tuesday night:

“Beat L-A! Beat L-A!”