I still haven't decided if the Giants are a team I love to hate or a team I hate to love. I am, for certain, grateful I'm not an Astros fan. Watching the weekend series the phrase that kept running through my head: "There, but for the grace of God (and Tim Lincecum), go I." The Astros are the Giants without pitching.
The similarities are striking. The Astros, who a few short years ago made a World Series appearance, rode the Killer B's (Bagwell, Biggio and Berkman) the way the Giants rode the Barry Bonds gravy train. In both cases the team got old in a hurry and management was ill prepared for the demise. But where they part company is this: the Astros had very little in the farm system to replace their aging stars, so they started to rebuild. The Giants decided to replace declining vets with (wait for it), more declining vets. The Astros groomed Hunter Pence and Michael Bourn. The Giants signed Ryan Klesko and Edgar Renteria. Neither pulled off their rebuild/reload strategy very well. The Giants' decade-long obsession with pitching has lended them a substantial edge in that category, but neither team can hit worth a lick.
How sad is it when your analysis of your team includes a comparison to the Astros? I just lost my lunch.
But, you take your wins where you can get them. The Giants own the 'Stros like the Padres own the Giants, and since the Giants contiue to get pummelled within their own division (they're 3-9) they need to find some patsies in the other divisions to help fatten up the resume. Thank you, Houston, for your volunteer spirit.
I'm still trying to figure out how the Giants captured Game One behind Todd Wellemeyer, who was the author of the loudest five-hit win you'll ever see. Rocket after rocket found a glove, with the ball catching defenders more than the other way around. Wellemeyer left the park immediately, bought a lottery ticket, then hopped the red eye to Vegas. No one should be able to regularly fall into feces and come up smelling like Channel, but that's the kind of night TW enjoyed. It helps when the team behind you takes advantage of Pony League pitching and finally scores some runs -- a development that no doubt placed Matt Cain and Jonathan Sanchez in the players' parking area dumping sand in Wellemeyer's gas tank.
The punchless offense retuned again in Game Two, and it almost did Lincecum in again. Brian Wilson's high-wire act literally used up every bit of the margin for error he'd been given, which wasn't much. The Giants seem to thrive on chaos, and if there isn't any they're sure to create it. Wilson these days seems to be more Mr. Hyde than Dr. Jekyl, reverting to his more pleasant counterpart only when Scotland Yard is pounding at the door.
Wilson's outing was made more difficult by a grounder to third that Rohlinger should have converted, but Wilson still has to shoulder the bulk of the blame. Both of his walks came after he had 0-2 leads on the batters. Matsui likewise was 0-2 before fouling off the entire day's allotment from Rawlings in working the count full. More than one of those fouls came on pitches that had "ball four" written all over them, so you'd have to say Matsui also contributed to his own demise.
Dude, when you throw 97 mph you don't screw around in that situation. Nibbling at the corners is for the Kirk Rueters of the world. If you throw triple digit gas, all you try to do is miss the center of the plate. Wilson, like the Giants, is often his own worst enemy. Don't think, just throw. Thinking only hurts the ball club. When you're 0-2 and can't put a guy away, that's mental. If you're there, you have some kind of talent (unless you're Brandon Medders). Trust it.
Did anyone notice Oswalt's new mystery pitch? Rowand and Moolina (not a typo) saw it first hand -- or at least they'll read about it in the Sporting Green. It's an amazing, heretofore unimaginable piece of mystical pitching chicanery. Aaron, Bengie, it's called a S-L-I-D-E-R. It runs down and away from you -- generally into the dirt. You couldn't hit the damn thing from a fox hole with a nine iron. Flailing away like a drowning drunk probably isn't the best method of attack. Lay off.
Game Three? See above. The Giants' starting pitcher didn't have his best command but gutted it out, with the now 6-1 Barry Zito standing in for Lincecum. The offense hit just enough, wasted coutless scoring opportunities, then the defense subjected a fan base in servere need of a prozac fix to yet another nail-biter of a ninth inning.
Again the drama started with a grounder to third, as Sandoval took a bite out of the would-be third out like it was the strip cheese sandwich at Hooters (two of my favorites -- the sandwich and Hooters: or is that three things?). Which brings me to another point: when your defensive replacement at third (see Rohlinger in Game Two) needs a defensive replacement, what then? On most days, you can't count on Wilson throwing a 1-2-3 frame. That grounder would have done it. Instead you've got a runner on base, then Wilson gives up the obligatory base hit, and 57 pitches later the cardiac wards are filled to overflowing.
Rowand got a certain measure of redemption with a go-ahead homer -- something he needed after being thrown out at the plate 24 hours earlier when he rounded the bases looking like a turtle going up a 45-percent grade. Then the Astros gave away the eventual game winner on a wild pitch -- made necesary by some God-awful situational at-bats (shame on the Panda).
So now it's back to that Hell Hole known as San Diego, where the Giants last won when Shamu was a guppy. Cain goes against Richard Clayton, who will see the Giants for the third time this year (1-0, 13.1 IP, 2 ER vesus the G-men). It's Cain's thrird outing against the Friars, and he got blasted last time out thanks to his part in a team-wide, week-long boycott on throwing strikes.
The Giants find themselves in exactly the same position they were in one week ago, half a game behind the Padres heading into a three-game showdown -- but now with The Hated Dodgers sudenly breathing down their necks. Last week they were gunned down without getting off so much as a shot. Hopefully a better result awaits.
You can't win a division flag in May, but the Giants have proven before that you can certainly lose one. To have a chance, they have to do better within the division, and that needs to start tonight.
The similarities are striking. The Astros, who a few short years ago made a World Series appearance, rode the Killer B's (Bagwell, Biggio and Berkman) the way the Giants rode the Barry Bonds gravy train. In both cases the team got old in a hurry and management was ill prepared for the demise. But where they part company is this: the Astros had very little in the farm system to replace their aging stars, so they started to rebuild. The Giants decided to replace declining vets with (wait for it), more declining vets. The Astros groomed Hunter Pence and Michael Bourn. The Giants signed Ryan Klesko and Edgar Renteria. Neither pulled off their rebuild/reload strategy very well. The Giants' decade-long obsession with pitching has lended them a substantial edge in that category, but neither team can hit worth a lick.
How sad is it when your analysis of your team includes a comparison to the Astros? I just lost my lunch.
But, you take your wins where you can get them. The Giants own the 'Stros like the Padres own the Giants, and since the Giants contiue to get pummelled within their own division (they're 3-9) they need to find some patsies in the other divisions to help fatten up the resume. Thank you, Houston, for your volunteer spirit.
I'm still trying to figure out how the Giants captured Game One behind Todd Wellemeyer, who was the author of the loudest five-hit win you'll ever see. Rocket after rocket found a glove, with the ball catching defenders more than the other way around. Wellemeyer left the park immediately, bought a lottery ticket, then hopped the red eye to Vegas. No one should be able to regularly fall into feces and come up smelling like Channel, but that's the kind of night TW enjoyed. It helps when the team behind you takes advantage of Pony League pitching and finally scores some runs -- a development that no doubt placed Matt Cain and Jonathan Sanchez in the players' parking area dumping sand in Wellemeyer's gas tank.
The punchless offense retuned again in Game Two, and it almost did Lincecum in again. Brian Wilson's high-wire act literally used up every bit of the margin for error he'd been given, which wasn't much. The Giants seem to thrive on chaos, and if there isn't any they're sure to create it. Wilson these days seems to be more Mr. Hyde than Dr. Jekyl, reverting to his more pleasant counterpart only when Scotland Yard is pounding at the door.
Wilson's outing was made more difficult by a grounder to third that Rohlinger should have converted, but Wilson still has to shoulder the bulk of the blame. Both of his walks came after he had 0-2 leads on the batters. Matsui likewise was 0-2 before fouling off the entire day's allotment from Rawlings in working the count full. More than one of those fouls came on pitches that had "ball four" written all over them, so you'd have to say Matsui also contributed to his own demise.
Dude, when you throw 97 mph you don't screw around in that situation. Nibbling at the corners is for the Kirk Rueters of the world. If you throw triple digit gas, all you try to do is miss the center of the plate. Wilson, like the Giants, is often his own worst enemy. Don't think, just throw. Thinking only hurts the ball club. When you're 0-2 and can't put a guy away, that's mental. If you're there, you have some kind of talent (unless you're Brandon Medders). Trust it.
Did anyone notice Oswalt's new mystery pitch? Rowand and Moolina (not a typo) saw it first hand -- or at least they'll read about it in the Sporting Green. It's an amazing, heretofore unimaginable piece of mystical pitching chicanery. Aaron, Bengie, it's called a S-L-I-D-E-R. It runs down and away from you -- generally into the dirt. You couldn't hit the damn thing from a fox hole with a nine iron. Flailing away like a drowning drunk probably isn't the best method of attack. Lay off.
Game Three? See above. The Giants' starting pitcher didn't have his best command but gutted it out, with the now 6-1 Barry Zito standing in for Lincecum. The offense hit just enough, wasted coutless scoring opportunities, then the defense subjected a fan base in servere need of a prozac fix to yet another nail-biter of a ninth inning.
Again the drama started with a grounder to third, as Sandoval took a bite out of the would-be third out like it was the strip cheese sandwich at Hooters (two of my favorites -- the sandwich and Hooters: or is that three things?). Which brings me to another point: when your defensive replacement at third (see Rohlinger in Game Two) needs a defensive replacement, what then? On most days, you can't count on Wilson throwing a 1-2-3 frame. That grounder would have done it. Instead you've got a runner on base, then Wilson gives up the obligatory base hit, and 57 pitches later the cardiac wards are filled to overflowing.
Rowand got a certain measure of redemption with a go-ahead homer -- something he needed after being thrown out at the plate 24 hours earlier when he rounded the bases looking like a turtle going up a 45-percent grade. Then the Astros gave away the eventual game winner on a wild pitch -- made necesary by some God-awful situational at-bats (shame on the Panda).
So now it's back to that Hell Hole known as San Diego, where the Giants last won when Shamu was a guppy. Cain goes against Richard Clayton, who will see the Giants for the third time this year (1-0, 13.1 IP, 2 ER vesus the G-men). It's Cain's thrird outing against the Friars, and he got blasted last time out thanks to his part in a team-wide, week-long boycott on throwing strikes.
The Giants find themselves in exactly the same position they were in one week ago, half a game behind the Padres heading into a three-game showdown -- but now with The Hated Dodgers sudenly breathing down their necks. Last week they were gunned down without getting off so much as a shot. Hopefully a better result awaits.
You can't win a division flag in May, but the Giants have proven before that you can certainly lose one. To have a chance, they have to do better within the division, and that needs to start tonight.
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