I can think of a few rare instances where a rain delay has ended well. Zito in Detroit last season is one. As CBS put it at the time, the Giant smashed the Tigers 15-3. (Different Tigers than the ones who are dominating everything right now? Yes.) But except in the instances of really massive blowouts, I’m generally so disgruntled and stir-crazy and annoyed from all the waiting that the outcome is somewhat irrelevant.
We all knew the rain delay was coming today. So I got my shoes on and as soon as they started rolling the tarps out, I left and got a coffee and went to the park and read my ridiculously sad book. I came home with pretty much perfect timing. Internal rain delay clock? Why, yes, I do have that. It was nice, except that I really need to start remembering that Starbucks doesn’t make Dark Roast in decaf, because the Medium Roast – the only one they do make in decaf – is unequivocally revolting. Apologies to any Medium Roast lovers I may have just mortally offended.
Um, anyway. Starbucks rant over.
My timing was pretty much perfect. I got home and went back to watching. Everything was perfect other than, you know, the game. After all that rain and delay and jazz, the Giants lost very softly, by a final of 3-1. There were just a lot of little mistakes on their part and they didn’t take advantage of the mistakes that the Cardinals made, either. Hunter Pence definitely stood out and not in a good way. He’s batting .161 in the postseason and is looking a bit like all of the Giants problems mashed into one. Obviously no game or series is decided by one person and other people have struggled, but Pence’s are magnified at the moment.
It was not a pretty game. And it was a darn long one, for being as not-pretty as it was. Medium Roast is looking increasingly appealing after seeing that one finish up.
Just kidding, just kidding. I choose losing Giants over bad coffee any day. But here’s to some winning Giants, right? It’s getting down to the wire but there’s still a good bit of baseball to be played. Like everyone, I’d guess, I’m dying with curiosity about what Our Boy Timmy will do tomorrow. A word about that nickname…
…and it’s anecdote time, because I tell a lot of anecdotes around this time of night. Earlier this season, I was having dinner with a Red Sox fan and suddenly he was all, “How about your boy Timmy?” Lincecum had just had particularly terrible start. So I was sort of silent and then I said, “Yeah. How about my boy Timmy.” I got this fiercely protective feeling and that was pretty much the end of that. Let it be known that Red Sox and Giants fans are not a match made in heaven. ‘Member when the two teams did an All Star Game voting alliance? They were just misleading us. Seriously.
Things will be better tomorrow. And hopefully our Pagan Deity of choice will make it a little bit… drier. Please, Thor/Zeuz/Celtic God Whose Name I Can’t Spell? No rain? Thanks. You’re the best. I’ll sacrifice some cupcakes to you.