Yuck.
After a series in Florida where it seemed the Giants had put it all together, they rolled into New York and stunk the joint up like a whino whose first bath in four weeks was in the gutter outside the local meat packing plant.
Some truisms entered here earlier in the season contnued to manifest themsleves: (1) the bullpen is the biggest detriment to Lincecum's Cy Young three-peat bid; (2) Sergio Romo can't be trusted any more than a canibal visiting Jeffrey Dahmer's house, (3) Jose Uribe may be able to hit but couldn't catch lint with a velcro glove, (4) Dan Runzler is only slightly more ready for the bigs than my cat, and (5) and the supposed "versitility" of the Giants line-up just means they can find more ways to screw up.
"What's our record, Larry?
Eight and sixteen.
Eight... and sixteen. How'd we ever win eight?
It's a miracle.
This... is a simple game. You throw the ball. You hit the ball. You catch the ball. "
Okay, so it's not exactly Crash Davis time for those clowns, but Max Patkin isn't far from making the roster. If the Giants bullpen allows one more weak-hitting catcher to rip one off the (expletive) bull to end a game, said pitcher needs to be put back on the bus for Single A. Whatta we gotta do to break the curse, cut the head off a live rooster? Maybe Susan Sarandon can point these guys in the right direction because right now they couldn't find "good' with aid from Garmin.
There were some highlights. Kudos for Jonathan Sanchez for being a true team player. With Wellemeyer's spot being skipped the last time through the rotation, the Giants neeeded someone to fill the "suck" void. He did so admirably. Of course, not to be outdone, our boy Wellemeyer made his return a memorable one by managing to out-suck his kindred spirit. Together these guys served to remind us how, even on his worst day, these two coudn't carry Timmy's solid gold jock (the rose goes in the front, big guy) with white gloves and a velvet pillow.
Funny how a team that said offense is irrelevant and portends to win with pitching and defense had such a hard time finding either. Hardly surprising when your starting left fielder is a second baseman, and his relief is another converted infielder and a career minor leaguer. Of course, that's the Sabean way. We could have gotten a quality ride, but why buy the Vette when the same price will get you a fleet of Civics? Yeah, you'll get great gas mileage but it's the guy in the Vette who's getting laid.
Speaking of which, Lincecum's luck is so bad he's must feel like the only guy who couldn't score at Plato's Retreat. By all rights this guy should be 7-0 and the odds-on favorite for post-season honors. Think about it, Timmy has never left a game tied or behind but in each of his last three starts the call to the bullpen has resulted in more devestation that the calamity brought by Mrs. O'Leary's cow. Has favorite whipping boy Medders so fundamentally fouled the waters that now his mere presence causes a meltdown? He doesn't even have to warm up. Just a shot of him in the dugout is enough to cause enemy hitters to began salivating.
Of course, it's not hard to improve your average when all that is required is to put the ball in play. Uribe found himself involved in four horrendous plays on Sunday, yet his exploits paled in comparison to the outfield shenanigans on the two balls hit by Jason Bay. How in the !#%% can a team that plays in San Francisco so totally disregard the wind? Torres breaks back on a ball hit to deep short on which Uribe gave up. Two innings later on a similar ball, Uribe runs Rowand off a makeable catch only to watch the sphere fall untouched. The result, two gift doubles for Bay and the need for me to collect a double of another kind (thank you Jack Daniel).
"This... is a simple game. You throw the ball. You hit the ball. You catch the ball. "
Unless you wear orange and black.
Praise be to the Mighty Brian Wilson, who was able, in fact to announce his presence with authority. At least someone figured out how to pitch to this, uh, defense. Sunday's effort was a five-out save on five strikeouts. The one ball hit in play was Bay's second wind-blown double. The defense can't hurt you if you make them eat their gloves -- which is about all they were good for this weekend.
So the Giants now come home for a showdown with the division-leading Padres -- a phrase that has me reaching for the bottle again. Zito on the hill Tuesday. Can he record 27 strikeouts? Let's hope so, because this group of heores doesn't presently seem capable of backing him up.
"Charlie, here comes the deuce. And when you speak of me, speak well."
After a series in Florida where it seemed the Giants had put it all together, they rolled into New York and stunk the joint up like a whino whose first bath in four weeks was in the gutter outside the local meat packing plant.
Some truisms entered here earlier in the season contnued to manifest themsleves: (1) the bullpen is the biggest detriment to Lincecum's Cy Young three-peat bid; (2) Sergio Romo can't be trusted any more than a canibal visiting Jeffrey Dahmer's house, (3) Jose Uribe may be able to hit but couldn't catch lint with a velcro glove, (4) Dan Runzler is only slightly more ready for the bigs than my cat, and (5) and the supposed "versitility" of the Giants line-up just means they can find more ways to screw up.
"What's our record, Larry?
Eight and sixteen.
Eight... and sixteen. How'd we ever win eight?
It's a miracle.
This... is a simple game. You throw the ball. You hit the ball. You catch the ball. "
Okay, so it's not exactly Crash Davis time for those clowns, but Max Patkin isn't far from making the roster. If the Giants bullpen allows one more weak-hitting catcher to rip one off the (expletive) bull to end a game, said pitcher needs to be put back on the bus for Single A. Whatta we gotta do to break the curse, cut the head off a live rooster? Maybe Susan Sarandon can point these guys in the right direction because right now they couldn't find "good' with aid from Garmin.
There were some highlights. Kudos for Jonathan Sanchez for being a true team player. With Wellemeyer's spot being skipped the last time through the rotation, the Giants neeeded someone to fill the "suck" void. He did so admirably. Of course, not to be outdone, our boy Wellemeyer made his return a memorable one by managing to out-suck his kindred spirit. Together these guys served to remind us how, even on his worst day, these two coudn't carry Timmy's solid gold jock (the rose goes in the front, big guy) with white gloves and a velvet pillow.
Funny how a team that said offense is irrelevant and portends to win with pitching and defense had such a hard time finding either. Hardly surprising when your starting left fielder is a second baseman, and his relief is another converted infielder and a career minor leaguer. Of course, that's the Sabean way. We could have gotten a quality ride, but why buy the Vette when the same price will get you a fleet of Civics? Yeah, you'll get great gas mileage but it's the guy in the Vette who's getting laid.
Speaking of which, Lincecum's luck is so bad he's must feel like the only guy who couldn't score at Plato's Retreat. By all rights this guy should be 7-0 and the odds-on favorite for post-season honors. Think about it, Timmy has never left a game tied or behind but in each of his last three starts the call to the bullpen has resulted in more devestation that the calamity brought by Mrs. O'Leary's cow. Has favorite whipping boy Medders so fundamentally fouled the waters that now his mere presence causes a meltdown? He doesn't even have to warm up. Just a shot of him in the dugout is enough to cause enemy hitters to began salivating.
Of course, it's not hard to improve your average when all that is required is to put the ball in play. Uribe found himself involved in four horrendous plays on Sunday, yet his exploits paled in comparison to the outfield shenanigans on the two balls hit by Jason Bay. How in the !#%% can a team that plays in San Francisco so totally disregard the wind? Torres breaks back on a ball hit to deep short on which Uribe gave up. Two innings later on a similar ball, Uribe runs Rowand off a makeable catch only to watch the sphere fall untouched. The result, two gift doubles for Bay and the need for me to collect a double of another kind (thank you Jack Daniel).
"This... is a simple game. You throw the ball. You hit the ball. You catch the ball. "
Unless you wear orange and black.
Praise be to the Mighty Brian Wilson, who was able, in fact to announce his presence with authority. At least someone figured out how to pitch to this, uh, defense. Sunday's effort was a five-out save on five strikeouts. The one ball hit in play was Bay's second wind-blown double. The defense can't hurt you if you make them eat their gloves -- which is about all they were good for this weekend.
So the Giants now come home for a showdown with the division-leading Padres -- a phrase that has me reaching for the bottle again. Zito on the hill Tuesday. Can he record 27 strikeouts? Let's hope so, because this group of heores doesn't presently seem capable of backing him up.
"Charlie, here comes the deuce. And when you speak of me, speak well."
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