Giants Win Series, Capture Flint Mega-Bowl

So, for what feels like the first time since Blondie was on the charts, the Giants have won a series. Of course, it would be too much to hope that such a milestone would come against a legitimate Major League contender rather than the "are we for real?" Washington Nationals, but given the sad state of affairs on the west side of The Bay we'll gladly accept the gift.

However (there's always a however with me), I'm certainly not thrilled about how the Giants went about it. How often can you count on a Todd Wellemeyer bloop single to key a four-run barrage, or depend on someone other than Brian Sabean to actually believe the large tub of goo known as Tyler Walker could be entrusted with a lead?

I fear what we may see much more of is the struggling squad evidenced behind a shaky Tim Lincecum in Game Two -- an outing that caused me to recall the wise and prophetic words of the immortal Jackie Moon:

"EVERYBODY PANIC!!!  It's like the Titanic, but it's full of bears!!!  There will be no refunds! Your refund will be escaping this deathtrap with your life! If you have a small child, use it as a shield! They love the tender meat! Cover your sodas! Dewie loves sugar! "

Lincecum was saddled with his first loss, but he hasn't won a game in nearly a month and has been shaky in each of his last three starts. And, quite honestly, I find it hard to place all of the blame on him. Four times he left a game with a lead, only to watch the bullpen play giveaway like Pac Mac Jones tossing out sawbucks in a strip club. On only one of those occasions did Timmmy Franchise get even modest run support. Going to the rubber every fifth day knowing he has to be perfect had to take more of a toll than the EZ Pass lane on the Bay Bridge.

You gotta feel for the pitching staff, even for that stiff Wellemeyer. Pitchers are rearely perfect, yet this group goes to the hill knowing each and every game is going to be a death struggle.

I was pleased to see the San Jose Mercury News finally call Sabean out this week. Some choice excerpts:

"Until offense arrives, there can be no satisfaction in San Francisco. When your job is to pitch and you're doing it well and your labor often goes to waste, words of encouragement get stale. They can become hollow, even irritating. And the postgame walk into the clubhouse is a test in anger management. When a team has a rotation capable of dominating a postseason, it's the GM's job to acquire an offense capable of delivering it to October."

and....

"Though Sabean signed an extension through 2011, it's on him to come up with something that can dazzle fans, wake up the lineup, fortify the pitchers and, ultimately, increase his own job security."

I still haven't figured out what Faustian bargain Sabean made to keep his job, although I believe that rather than selling his own soul he sold the club's. In the process, he sold every single Giants fan down the river.

The Giants proved again in Game Three that an Orange and Black rally needs a lot of help. Freddy Sanchez delivered the big hit, but it was Adam Dunn's stellar defense at first that set the table. The Nationals should send the guy out there with a fork and a boxing glove.

I want to be excited by a series win, I really do. But Affeldt is hurt, Renteria is hurt (again), Medders supposedly is on target to return (horrors!) and the Giants still haven't given any indication that they're looking for offense. Part of me wants the team to make a move, but another part is terrified that it'll involve dealing Posey and Downs for the next Shea Hillenbrand.

The Giants have a team batting average of .256 -- not awful but certainly not something that strikes fear into the hearts of enemy hurlers. But the way they hit is troubling. Most of the success came in the season's first three weeks, and the mark when it counts is about as frightening as a surf outing on the Louisiana Gulf Coast. When your offensive leader is Juan Uribe, you're totally screwed.

It was bound to happen sooner or later. The offense is finally dragging down the pitching. Most teams know that even their ace will slump upon occasion, but the trade-off is that there are days you can stink it up on the hill and know the offense will bail you out. The Giants entertain no such expectations.

Huff said it: the way the team is hitting, being down 1-0 feels like 10-0. When Timmy fell behind, I opted for watching Deadliest Catch. It's demoralizing -- even more so on the rare occasions when the Giants do hit and the pitchers fail to perform. There is no margin for error, and that's no way for fallable human beings to perform.

So we sit and wait for Sabean to do something smart -- to bring in someone who will actually make an impact. Until then?

"Corndogs, Jackie. Corndogs for all these people."

That Giant Sucking Sound? It's the Season Going Down the Drain

This post will be short because there isn't much to say beyond the numbers. The Giants' performance against Oakland isn't worth breaking down, although the word "breakdown" does sum it up nicely.

The facts: 14 hits, 1 run, 0-for-19 with runners in scoring position. Three losses to complete a 1-6 road trip. That was the Giants' weekend.

I've been a Giants fan since 1971. I've seen 100-loss seasons. I've seen epic collapses. I've even seen a World Series derailed by an act of God. But this may be the low point. You can use a lot of flowery language, but folks, they suck.

They hit early in the season, so now we hear the front office talking about a "slump". This isn't a slump. A slump implies that the team really can hit, that this is just a statistical aberration and soon eveything will return to normal. But what if April was the aberration? What if "normal" is "suck?"

It's hard to beleive that suddenly this team is going to hit. They are what they are, and what they are is wretched. It seems that every night some middle-of-the-road pitcher gets his letter at the expense of the Giants, who are becoming rather adept at making Walter Mitty look like Walter Johnson. There are pitchers all over the league with 5-plus ERAs whipping out their pocket schedules with breathless anticipation of their spot in the rotation coming up against the Giants. Wanna fatten up that resume? The Giants will oblige.

The Giants didn't hit last year, and they didn't hit the year before that (or the one before that, or...).  For 2010 they corrected that issue by adding Mark DeRosa and Aubrey Huff. Say what?

Forget the wishful thinking that permiates the San Francisco front office and look at the Giants line-up. Specifically, look at the top five spots in the line-up. Is there ANYONE on that slate who would be hitting in that spot on a contender? Rowand hits lead-off because he has been a failure everywhere else. Torres is a reserve for 75 percent of the teams in MLB. Huff, Molina? They have six hole written all over them (and Bengie has space for some big type). Only Panda belongs, and IMHO he's much better suited for the five spot.

The Giants do not possess a single elite bat. They have a plethora of guys made for the bottom half of the order, the bench, Triple A, or performing wet clean-ups in the dairy aisle. And I'm not hopeful they'll acquire a premiere stick anytime soon.

Look at the track record. Every year they field a team of B and C-level hitters. Evey year they claim to address the issue by acquiring more B and C-level hitters. Somewhere around the first of August, Sabean will have his annual session with the media where he'll acknowledge the weakenss without accepting any fault, something along the lines of "Yeah, we didn't hit as well as we expected, but no one could have anticipated Player X would (insert problem here)." Never mind that Player X invariably (a) was injured when he was acquired, (b) has never been an elite player, or (c) both.

The 2005 Giants couldn't hit. In 2006: enter Steve Finley, Mark Sweeney, Shea Hillenbrand and Jose Vizcaino (again). That team couldn't score either, so the 2007 Class of Heroes consisted of Ryan Klesko, Dave Roberts and Rich Aurilia (again). Fast forward to 2008 and add Rowand and Jose Castillo to the mix. Last year it was Renteria, Uribe, Whiteside and a flyer on Jesus Guzman, plus the in-season acquisition of Ryan Garko and a lame Freddy Sanchez.

Anyone detect a trend here?

Either the Giants don't know how to win or they aren't interested in doing so. The last impact bat this team acquired was one Mr. Barry Bonds, and that was in 1993 -- noticiably BEFORE Sabean took the helm. Notice I refuse to ackowldge Jeff Kent, because those with any kind of memory will recall Sabean crowing about the key to the deal being one Julian Tavares. Kent was a throw-in to cover the position at third base vacated by the loss of Matt Williams in that deal. It should be noted that Kent moved to second only because he was miserable failure at the hot corner, and in the process Sabean rid the Giants of the last impact positon player produced by the organization.

The solution is clear. Sabean must go, and anyone who subscribes to his theory of team building must go in the purge. This is not in infection, it's an infestation. You can't spray a little Black Flag and be rid of this pest. You have to tent the building and fumigate, or burn it to the ground and start with a clear lot.

That won't happen under current management. Sabean's response at season's end, for the humpteenth consecutive season, will be to supplement his team of also-rans with more of that same ilk, pronounce the problem solved, then sit back and feign shock and disappointment when the same pathetic drama unfolds once more.

'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." -- George Santayana.

Sabean is a one-trick pony. Given unlimited resources and oportunity, he would still assemble a team comprised of bench and role players. That preference was given full voice when he defended the signings of the likes of Michael Tucker over Vladamir Guerrero -- a move which he MUCH later admitted was a mistake yet conveniently has omitted from his learning curve. He also unzipped his fly in the matter of player evaluation when Nathan and Liriano departed in favor of a one-year rental of AJ Pierzynski, or when he dealt two top pitching prospects (Alderson, Barnes) for a gimpy second baseman (Sanchez) and a marginal first baseman (Garko) who didn't even survive until the next spring training.

Yes, the Giants are still above .500, but for how long? It seems only a day ago they were 17-10 and on top of the world. Now they are in freefall, and the bottom is nowhere in sight. This team cannot win, not as constructed.

The way to start the rebuilding process is to get a new architect.

A Steaming Pile of...Snakes

There are approximately 470,000 words in Webster's Dictionary. None aptly describe the current putrid state of the Giants.

The two-game trip into Phoenix, the abbreviated four-game swing before returning to the Bay Area (does Oakland really count as a road game?), the entire NL West campaign....pathetic. Losers of  three out of four on the trip and an abysmal failure in the division, the Giants can only do one thing to save the season: petition MLB for immediate realignment.

At 22-18 they're above water, but just barely. The Dodgers, who endured one of the worst downturns this side of Wall Street, righted their ship and passed our heroes while the Padres continue to execute what was supposed to be "The Giants Way" and lead the pack.

The Diamondbacks proved that the "pitching before offense" mantra espoused by the Giants is a bunch of third-rate hocum. As long as you can hit the ball out of the park, a part of the game the Giants lack, you've got a puncher's chance. Just one bad pitch can save (or ruin) your day. And when the opposition willfully aides your cause, well, we saw what happens.

I won't bore you, or myself, with details. Wellemeyer stunk. Lincecum struggled mightily but, for a change, had the offense pick him up. What that leaves is the bullpen, which proved it doesn't mater if the starter is awful or awesome, they're ready and willing to decide the game -- sometimes in the negative.

I could go on and on (and on and on and on) about my previous contention that the Giants have some good ptichers, but not a good staff. There are far too many holes for the anemic defense to overcome. There is nobody you'd hand the ball to with confidence.
What do Brandon Medders, Aaron Rowand and Jeremy Affeldt have in common? All got very nice deals form Giants management on the basis of one good season. Rowand was never a $60 million player. Affeldt has been passed around more than a potato bong at a junior college dorm.  Medders has always been, well, Medders (which is latin for "mediocre rag arm"). They could be nice complimentary parts but none is a year-in, year-out stalwart of any team, yet the Giants chose to overlook that and pay/sign based on a performance the player was statisitcally unlikely to repeat.

And it's not the first time we've seen this particular malfunction. Randy Winn, anybody?

Any explanation regarding Wellemeyer still eludes me. We've now listened to the Giants talk about the great young arms in the system for a full decade. Tell me, when was the last off-season the Giants didn't load up the roster with retreads from other teams? Morris, Benitez, Hermanson, Stanton, Howry, Worrell, Walker, Fassero (come back in two hours, I'll still be pulling out names)... the Giants are more frequent visitors to the bargain bin that a Yenta in Queens with a penchant for Bloomie's Basement.

Even when the Giants look for answers from within, they screw the pooch. Posey, Pucetas, Bumgarner, et al slug away in the minors because the Giants say they need "seasoning" like the answer was to dip them in Hooters wing sauce. They're adamant about not making them "learn at the Major League level." Fine, if that's your philosophy.

Then explain Dan Runzler. Posey can't get a sniff, but Ruzler has appeared in 18 of 40 games. Sixteen hits and 13 walks in 16.1 frames tells me the kid isn't ready for the bigs. So, isn't he "learning" at the Big League level? Shouldn't he be in Fresno? If not, then shouldn't the others be on the big league roster?

My bet is the next guy to get screwed on this will be Downs, which makes sense since he's the only Giant who has been hitting. But Freddy Sanchez finally crawled out of the whirlpool so he'll get shuffled off to either the pine or the minors, and we'll get to watch yet another promising career wasted in the bus leagues.
The Giants are schizophrenic enough to give Sybil headaches. They literally don't know if they're coming or going. Are they growing talent, trying to win now, or just spinning their wheels?

I realize it's early, but I'd really like to see the Giants blow up this team. If you've got a group of players who, despite their experience, can't get the job done on a cosnistent basis, you gotta give someone else a try. It might work, it might be a disaster. I don't know and I really don't care because at least at that point they'll have changed direction.

You're driving toward a cliff. You can't see left or right. Turn and you might find a steeper cliff, you might drive to safety. Either is preferable to staying on your present course, which brings certain doom.

No success lies down this road. A change of direction is long overdue.

Giants Trip Pads: Earth's Rotation Altered

Two games in the vacation paradise of San Diego: land of Felipi's Pizza Grotto, Croce's Bar and Grill, the Hooters with the best, uh, wings, and the San Francisco Giants personal House of Horrors.

With the spectre of an 0-8 start against the division leaders squaring them straight in the face, the Giants fianally managed to squeak out a win and escaped with a split of the abbreviated series -- avoid a torrent of comentary alternating between denial and fatlism as the teams await their next meeting in August. Thank God the Giants don't return to Petco until Sepetember 9. Maybe by then some good electro-shock therapy can erase the memory.

Leave it to the Giants to find an addendum to a long-accepted baseball truism: "Good  pitching will defeat good hitting...and good pitching will make mediocre hitting look like crap."

The punchles, feckless, ineffective collection of God-awful stiffs the Giants jokingly call an offense was on full display in Game One of the "not so much a showdown as it is an execution" series with the (choke, gag) division-leading Padres. The Giants dropped to 0-7 against the Friars, to 3-10 in the diivsion, and they kept a rather dubious string intact -- in four games at Petco Park the Giants hadn't so much as sniffed a lead.

I haven't seen anyone this "owned" since Kunta Kinte.

Think about it. Through seven games the Giants scored a grand total of nine runs against a team that was supposed to be the doormat of the division. Some dormat. They pitch well, they hit just enough, and they don't beat themselves like a certain team in Orange and Black. For three straght games I watched a play botched at third that Chase Headley makes in his sleep, and I haven't seen any of their pitchers love-tapping batters with the bases juiced.

Don'tcha just love the unbalanced schedule? We get to see this 10 more times. Yipee!

Yes, they unloaded on the Padres in Game Two, and it's about time. But we've seen this act before. The big blows came from Torres and Downs -- two guys who don't figure to play a big role in any Giants surge at the plate. Torres is a reserve outfielder who ran into one, and Downs is likely the odd man out with Freddy "Ouch, my Knee" Sanchez coming back.

It took 914 innings, but the Giants finally enjoyed a lead by stringing together some hits early, prompting a run on emergecy rooms all over the West Coast as Giants fans (or those willing to still admit to being same) reported seing halluciantions. Fortunately, Jonathan Sanchez did his best to restore the natural order of things by melting down in the fifth. After schooling the Padres twice yet getting no offensive support, he picked NOW to give up a five-hit inning and watch a two-run lead become a similar deficit.

It seems to be a trend -- Giants pitchers totally unwilling to accept the largess of their offensive bretheren. They must view runs like some kind of infection that needs to be fought off at any cost. Fortunately for the Giants, they have the cure.

Tell me, how many times is Eli Whiteside going to be sent to the plate in a crucual situation? Yes, he's hitting .300 -- in a very limited sample size. He's never hit at any level. His Little League coach tells stories of how young Eli yielded to a stray schnauzer when a pinch hitter was needed.  Saying he's a hitter is like saying you only date supermodels because the one date you had in ninth grade turned out to be a looker --after she dumped you.

The last time Whiteside and "clutch" were metioned in the same sentence was in relation to his ability to shift grears on his grandfather's '57 Ford Falcon. But with another catcher on the bench, Botch-y allowed Whiteside to kill two more rallies with weak two-out ABs.

My theory? Whiteside has photos. Of what, I have no idea --but I'm sure there are farm animals involved.

Eventually  Downs produced, cementing his bus ticket back to Fresno and allowing Wilson to do what Giants relievers do best -- heighten blood pressure. Walks, hits, the obligatory brain fart on a would-be double play ball hit to Uribe, and suddenly David Eckstein is at the plate.

Eckstein is the Giants' kryptonite. He's like a coachroach -- it's not what he eats or carries away, it's what he falls into and ruins. If something goes bad for the Giants, he's somewhere nearby. His double (aided by Rowand's route to the ball that went by way of Temecula) put the tying run in scoring position and had me resigned to the fact that the Giants would find yet another Wes Craven-like way to blow the game. Then Wilson managed a strikeout of Headley to end it, once again proving the best defensive effort by the Giants consists of not letting anyone attempt to field the ball.

So, it's a good news / bad news day. Good news: the Giants finally beat the Padres and now they get out of town. The bad news: Todd Wellemeyer pitches tongiht.

God help us.

Houston Definitely Has a Problem; Giants Benefit

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.

An Ode to Dennis Green

Stop me if you've heard this before......

There's a Giants way to play baseball. Strong pitching, strong defense, timely hitting. It's not so much hitting with power as it is hitting when it counts. We don't have big bats but we have professional hitters, and that's what it takes to contend.

That's what we're being told by Giants management.

That type of team was on full display during the San Diego series. Unfortunately, it sat in the opposing dugout. The Padres pitched better, they played better defense, and they produced the timely hits. In return, the Giants botched play after play, the pitchers walked the equivalent of a small Central American nation (and their pets), and the bats were as limp as a 90-year-old man who has long exausted his allotment of Cialis.

I bring this up because way back when, in the rant that launched this site, I made mention of how the 2009 Colorado Rockies had become the team the Giants had professed to be. In 2010, we see it transpire once again -- this time on the border.

This is the modus operandi of the Giants organization -- talking the talk while someone else walks the walk. And man is it getting old.

Twelve walks in the opener and no offense to speak of doomed Barry Zito (who issued seven of the walks himself) to his first loss of the year. And that was the bright spot of the series. Cain came back the next night with the same inability to throw strikes, and the offense managed to leave more people stranded than that volcano in Iceland grounded in British airports. As for defense, by the time Sandoval managed to lose a friggin' ground ball in the lights, my head was ready to explode.

Think Michael Ironside in "Scanners".

Then came game three. This is one of those seminal moments when you just know the world is changing (or going to Hell) around you. One hit. One lousy hit, and it's an infield single by a guy who has no business in the big leagues. Of course, that can be said for about half this roster. What gives, did the Halloween section at Party City have Giants uniforms on clearance?

I really don't know whether to laugh or cry in regard to Jonathan Sanchez.  In two games against the Padres this year he pitched 15 innings: four hits, four walks, two runs, 15 strikeouts. He lost both games by a combioned score of 2-0. The only reason I don't totally feel sorry for him is that he's also had games where he stunk the joint up and had to be bailed out. That's kharma for you.

Wanna feel sorry for someone, feel sorry for Giants fans who once again have to watch a team that management screwed up. Dr. Frankenstein did a better job of assembly. Did anyone really think they were a contender? Was Molina gonna hit .330 all year. Was Renteria? Were Huff and DeRosa suddenly supposed to become the next Barry or Thrill?

This team had no offense last year. It has none this year. A few hot streaks will show up from time to time, but they are what they are. If it walks, walks and sounds like a duck, it's a duck (and what I think of them rhymes with duck).

Geez, the best pitches a I saw during that series came from the Padres, followed closely by the one I made firing a coaster at the TV. The Giants' efforts finished a weak third.

May has become the killer month for the Giants. It's when teams find out who they are. I have vivid recollections of a mid-May streak just a few short years ago in which a Giants team throught to be a contender dropped 15 of 18 and never came back -- and that team had some hitters.

This group is built to be frustrating. They hope the pitchers hold the opposition to under four runs, pray the defense doesn't implode, and figure that if  they luck into a sac fly or booted ground ball at the right time they just might win a game. When the stars align, they earn a 3-2 victory. When they don't, well, we just saw it versus San Diego. You get something so unsettling that Eli Roth couldn't watch it.

All you need to know about the Giants' offensive "improvement" is that Bengie Molina, a man who generates his own gravity, is back in the cleanup spot after not one but two seasons where he was an abject failure in that same role. Friday night, Bruce Botch-y found his team (and his own enormous brain pan) so challenged that, once again, Eli Whiteside was allowed to head to the plate representing the final out, and act of futility tantamont to trusting Roman Polanski to babysit your teenage daughter.

The Giants don't get it. It's a bad team: badly contructed and badly managed. They can't win like this.
The Astros (who are really the Giants without Tim Lincecum) come in tonight with Todd Wellemeyer on the hill. Can an ERA reach infinity? Samuel Clemens had Wellemeyer in mind when he said: "He is useless on top of the ground; he ought to be under it, inspiring the cabbages."

I spend each spring anxiously waiting for baseball season to start. Six weeks in and it's a big far serving of "Bleh!" Not sure if I'll even watch tonight: it's $200 a year for the MLB package and I get more entertainment value out of Spongebob. Maybe the garage needs cleaning. I've been putting off that root canal for awhile, perhaps this is a good time. It couldn't be any more painful that watching this dreck.

Giants Bite Big Apple; Find Worm

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."

Enjoying a Fish Fry in Florida

I'm gonna rip on these guys more often.

In my last post I blasted the Giants for blowing three straight opportunities to sweep -- a 6-3 homestand that should have ended in glorious celebration instead leaving me feeling like the guy who got to third base with his date only to have her father come bounding down the stairs. Oh, what might have been.

But the boys sealed the deal down in Miami. At times it wasn't pretty, but Joe Robbie Pro Player Dolphins Land Shark Sun Life Stadium has been a house of horrors for the Giants in recent years so I'll take wins there any way I can get them. By the way, has JT Snow rounded third yet?

Now I'm not egomaniacal enough to take credit for the turnaround. I simply point to the Giants' performance before an after the post and will allow the record to speak for itself.

Giants 9, Marlins 6 (F/12)
It occurs to me that the biggest obstacle standing between Tim Lincecum and his third consective Cy Young Award isn't enemy hitters, mediocre offense, threat of injury, or a bite from a radioactive spider (although that would be kinda cool). If Timmy fails to three-peat, he'll probably have the pen to blame.

For the second straight start, Lincecum left a game with a lead. And once again, it was bullpen meltdown time. The culprit: Sergio Romo, yep the same guy who robbed Zito of a win in LA with that same lousy pitch, a slider that didn't slide. If the bullpen had protected Lincecum's decisions in his past two starts, he would have been the first Giants pitcher to win his first six starts since Juan Marichal did the trick 1966. Instead he's 4-0 with a 1.70 ERA and 56Ks (walking just eight) in 42 1/3 innings, and we get to listen to the talking heads at the Everything Sox and Pinstripes Network fawning over Ubaldo Jimenez.

Kudos to the much-maligned Aaron Rowand. His heroics, both with the bat and the glove, were enough to grant him temporary amnesty from persecution should he show up in the clubhouse wearing tights and a cape. Honorable mention to Aubrey Huff, whose two-RBI hit in the 12th was as much mental as physical according to the Mercury News. Once in awhile Sabean's "veteran presence" crapola pays off, and I've now met my Sabean compliment quota for the season.

Of course, I can't just let that Sabean comment lie. When you lob one up to the net like that, expect it to get spiked. Can we talk about the vets that aren't paying dividends? Edgar Renteria can't get on the field, DeRosa shouldn't be allowed near the field, and Freddy Sanchez doesn't remember where the field is. Nice signings, eh?

Giants 3, Marlins 2
Okay, I'm a convert. Zito is back. Zito is good. Hearts and flowers, peace on earth, macaroni and cheese. Dorothy is back in Kansas and all is right with the world. Yes, he came close to meltdown in the eighth and given the inconsistency of the Giants pen I can see why Bochy stuck with him as long as he did. But having Zito, who in his first three years in Orange and Black was basically a 5-inning, 4.50 ERA pitcher, consitently pitching into the eighth inning is something that has to make Giants fans absolutely giddy.

What has made the difference? Is it the slider? Is he throwing his curve for strikes? Is it attitude? Personally, I think it's the socks. Really. I had a pair of lucky jockey shorts once and they still...nevermind.

Through his first three seasons Zito acted as though he'd be more comforrtable strumming his guitar at a coffehouse in Caimbridge than standing on the hill of thrills at AT&T Park. Okay, he's still goofy looking. But he's also takien on this kind of serial killer sneer that just screams "I'm bad, and you're going down."

I haven't decided if it's guts or lunacy that Bochy went back to Romo with the Marlins rallying. With more successful rocket launches under his belt than NASA this year, Romo's frisbee slider is starting to scare me more than a little. His reputation as a strike thrower means hitters are going up to the plate swinging -- and connecting when that slider flattens out. I've said it before, gimmick pitchers are a two-edged sword. When people stop falling for the deke, get ready to back up third because that relay might get away. Romo needs two things to go from "good' to "Oh, God, not that guy again:" consistent break on the slider, and another pitch to go with it.

Giants 6, Marlins 3
Highlight of the night was Nate Schierholtz launching one into the stratosphere. Finally, a Giants farmhand not nicknamed after an animated character who is threatening to become a contributing fixture on the ML roster. Any blast that has Jon Miller howling in semi-orgasmic glee is all right in my book.

Kudos to Matt Cain, who is finally getting some run support and has cancelled the standing reservation for his call to the suicide hotline. I swear this guy was one step away from razor blades and cycnide capsules after the Cardinals series. Am I the only person who is convinced his contract extension was a prememptive strike against an early "these clowns will forever screw me with my pants on so I might as well get out while I'm young" free agent diatribe?

I have to admit that I enjoy listening to the other team's announcers when they lose. After Rowand made yet another sliding catch, the Marlins play-by-play man was almost whining when he said "Does he do that every night?" Classic. As much as people, including myself, have banged on this guy, this was his series. He's the anti-Freddy Sanchez. This guy wants to play with three broken bones in his face, and Sanchez (who is fast turing into Ray Durham) keeps talking about how his rehab is ahead of schedule while maintaining a pace to play the same number of innings as Angelina Jolie.

I realize it's a small sample size, but with Downs playing as well as he has (and showing some power), Freddy better start looking over his shoulder. If he's healthy, he looks like trade bait to me.

Funniest moment of the night served to once again establish Bengie Molina as the slowst man in baseball, if not the slowest man on the planet. Molina's bouncer up the middle was backhanded by Dan Uggla, who noticably relaxed as he realized Bengie was, at that point, just beginning to consider whether it would be a good idea to think about taking off for an area somewhere in the general direction of first base. Uggla squared his shoulders, did a few stretching exercises, posed for photos, signed autographs, made at least two cell phone calls and finshed off a hot dog before lobbing a throw to first that beat Molina by 14 and a half  feet.

Bengie, I have two words for you: "Jenny Craig." Seriously, give Valerie Bertinelli a call and you might see the end of this year. I'm not expecting him to tun into Ussein Bolt,  but I also didn't expect him to show up for the season needing to have his uniform custom made by Ringling Bros. This guy has to do something or I've got two more words that should scare the bejeezus out of him: "Buster Posey." He's hitting .343 with a .436 OBP through 26 games at Fresno.

But the Giants ae winning so we can laugh (sort of) at Bengie. The record stands at 17-10 (and should be 20-7). Now it's off to New York, where the Giants will try to avoid that mean old Katie Kouric (hey, look what she did to Sarah Palin) and keep the streak going.

Leonard Nimoy goes "In Search of: A Killer Instinct"

You’d think that a 6-3 home stand against St. Louis, Philly and Colorado, with the Giants winning all three series, would be cause for joy. But this “accomplishment” is remarkably unsatisfying.

Three times the Giants had an opportunity to sweep, and in each case the Giants didn’t get beat so much as they lost. They were charitable in a United Way kind of fashion, adding once again to that list of games I fear they’ll be looking back at when the season concludes, muttering “if only…”

Twice the bats didn’t show, once the bullpen came unglued, and the fact is a 6-3 home stand should have been 7-2 and had the potential for a clean sweep. So you gotta wonder, does this team have the ability to put its foot on a team’s throat and close them out?

Thoughts from the Rockies series:

Barry Zito needs a nickname. I can’t get away with Barry Zero anymore, unless we’re talking about the zeroes he’s throwing at the opposition. Friday was his best outing to date. He didn’t have it in the first inning, but instead of the meltdown we’ve come to expect, he righted the ship and stated dealing.

His numbers would have been even more impressive had Molina, for the second straight game, found a way NOT to get his rather significant girth (a polite way off calling him a fat ass) in front of a blockable pitch, thus permitting a run to score. The Giants supposedly serve healthy food choices in the clubhouse now. Either Bengie is eating his portion and that of the entire bullpen, or he's making bonus stops at Yum Yum Donuts on his way to the park. You’re professional athlete, well, sort of. Treat your body like a temple, not a landfill.

Cain didn’t have to be perfect in Game Two, but he almost was. For once the team scored him some runs, and he didn’t disappoint. One hit over eight frames. The bullpen – namely the totally lame and over the hill Guillermo Mota, blew the goose egg -- but that just emphasized out out of this world Cain had been.

Thenonce again came, a chance to sweep. Instead, we found that Jonathan Sanchez continues to be his own worst enemy. Rallies for free kill you, especially when your “relief” is Brandon Medders. Ha, thought I’d forgotten about this hero, didn’t ya?

There are two mathematical equations I take as constant: The first is the obligatory E=MC2. Close behind is Medders+Inherited Runners=Disaster. When 1-0 becomes 4-0 in the span of two hitters, you can pretty much bet that Medders was involved. It’s not just that he looks like Shrek after lap band surgery, it’s that he stinks. Not in a “hey, I caught a whiff of something” way, but more like “somebody on the bus hasn’t showered in a week AND has a skunk in his pocket”.

We also saw the Rowand, three years into his deal, still can’t recognize a slider, that Velez still can’t hit, and that Bochy’s “I don’t give a rip” Sunday line-up will continue to be the norm.

A word to the ticket buying public: don’t waist your jack on Sunday games. Bochy is usually passing out unis in the parking lot. Play your cards right and you not only get in for free, you’ll sit on the bench. If someone is hot, you might even start in his place – how else to you explain Ishikawa getting the start over Huff?

Mike Krukow, whom I worship, made a comment that Bochy owed Ishikawa some at-bats. No he didn't. Ishi is getting paid. Bochy owed the fans who shelled out 80 clams to sit in the friggin' Club Level with the $10 beer and $7 two-scoop sundaes the best team he can put on the field. By the way, that team will NEVER include Eli Whiteside as the catcher.

So there it is, the worst 6-3 in Giants history. Back on the road, where they went a stellar 1-5 the last time out. Time to find out what these guys are really made of.