I may have said something along the lines of “One does not simply score more runs,” the other day. My blog is the virtual equivalent of a fascist state, so you can’t confirm whether or not I actually said that. (Okay, fine. You can. That’s what the neat “scroll” feature on your computer is for.) Anyhows, Friday, it sure looked like it and the Giants went down quietly, 3-0. Silently. But then today rolled around and… things were different.
Nine runs, thirteen hits different. This team has kind of morphed to a point that it’s creepy, except not creepy because it’s completely wonderful. Actually, still creepy.
Boromir is happy.
A lot of different pieces fell into place. Matt Cain delivered what was probably his best performance since the perfect game way back in June – June was also, incidentally, the last time a Giant other than Buster Posey hit a homer at home, so there’s that –, Hunter Pence started to look a little bit like the Hunter Pence we know and love and, um, traded our souls to the devil for and Buster Posey kept hitting ‘em homers at home. Angel Pagan also had a lovely little two-run triple. He can do everything except, you know, catching a ball in a sensible fashion.
I love the Rockies. I really do. If Dan O’Dowd ever comes to the Bay Area to catch a game, I will gladly invite him over for tea and thank him from the bottom of my heart for creating such an, ahem, fun team to play.
Diamond Girl
