Results tagged ‘ aubrey huff ’
The Odds Were Ever In Their Favor
So that was a mixed bag, hm? (Bag meaning game, of course. Not a literal bag, guys.) The Giants edged out a win at 5-2 and in the process, snapped the four-game losing streak. Plus Ryan Braun hit a homer, so I can’t really complain. MadBum is quickly proving himself to be the surprisingly fantastic one, although it isn’t really surprising at all. Still, who predicted him to be the designated stopper in 2012, plus hit splendid RBI doubles? If you did, feel free to raise your hand. Fresh brownies are waiting to be sent over to you via the World Wide Web if you have proof. If nobody comes out of the woodwork, then I will just assume that we are all surprised. It’s not that he hasn’t been fantastic in the past, because he has been. But sighing with relief when he takes the mound? That’s new, at least for me.
Angel Pagan is also making himself known to Giants fans and call me crazy, but I am totally seeing a little rivalry between him and Andres Torres, who were traded for each other over the winter. Torres has gotten a hit and RBI in every game since coming off the DL in New York and Pagan is currently sporting a 19 game hitting streak. Remember when Uribe and Huff used to hit back-to-back homers (sort of) all the time? Friendly rivalries, even if imagined by crazy fans like me, are terribly fun.
Speaking of Huff. If you haven’t read this piece where he discussed his anxiety disorder with the Chronicle’s Henry Schulman, read it now. Seriously. Not only is it very touching, it’s also informative. As before, we (okay, I here) at Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend wish him all the best and hope that everything goes up from here.
The game today was interesting to me, in that all of the issues from the past few days and the season so far, really, were still there, but they did get that win, by luck or by skill. Baseball is funny like that, isn’t it? There weren’t really fundamental changes, aside from a few choice hits with RISP. More like the odds being ever in their favor.
I admit it. I said that just for the Hunger Games nod. But still.
Diamond Girl
p.s. Yesterday, Rivera said to the media, “I’m coming back. Write it down in big letters. I’m not going out like this.” You. Do. Not. Even. Know. How. Tempted. I. Am. (To write it down in big letters, that is. If I can find a big enough piece of paper, I am totally doing that tomorrow.)
The Hyper-Fast Rundown
Time to do a hyper-fast rundown. Ready? Okay. I’m tired out already. Whew. Where to start?
There are the obvious woes of the Giants, the ah-mazing hit streak of Pablo Sandoval, the creepily good resurgence of the big Z, what’s wrong with Timmy… all that good stuff. But what’s really taken over the news today is the announcement that Aubrey Huff is on the 15-day Disabled List with an anxiety disorder. I don’t think it’s what anyone was expecting out of the Huff announcement and it certainly raises a lot of questions. Personally, I would hope we can all back off a little at the moment and just send positive thoughts his way, for whatever he might be dealing with. He is a person first and a baseball player second.
With that said, Andrew Baggarly, over at CSN, reported this afternoon that Huff is going through a divorce at the moment and raised a good deal of ire within the fan ranks – people saying that was an invasion of privacy or just classless/in poor taste to report. I think a lot of what is being said about Huff should carry over to Baggarly, honestly. Bottom line, he’s trying to do his job. They both are. The whole thing is unfortunate, to say the least, but empathy all around is the best tactic, I think. Aside from the fact that I absolutely adore that word, even. Isn’t “empathy” a fantastic one?
Onwards! For a short and wonderful time, the A’s were the first team in MLB history to have three Aussies on the team. (As my brother quipped, “Because the A’s are so aussie-ome.” Score, darling. You should read my blog more.) Then they DFA’ed one of ‘em, so they’re not quite so down-under heavy anymore. But they still have two. And two is making me grin and be glad to be in the Bay Area, even if I’m only vaguely A’s sympathetic. Don’t shoot me, guys. Vaguely.
Lastly, a shout-out to Joe Martinez, former Giant extraordinaire, who was called up by them Diamondbacks today. I am not the least bit D-Back sympathetic, but I do hope Joey does well because I love that guy. It’s okay if the Diamondbacks beat us just a couple times this season, right? In completely non-key games and stuff. Yeah, it’s okay? Good. I am glad to agree on this.
Diamond Girl
Hugs, Bud Selig.
My day started far too early for a Saturday with a Little League game, A’s vs. Giants. Nothing weird about that, right? Aside from the fact that the Curse of Interleague Play (hugs, Bud Selig) hasn’t come upon us quite yet. And the fact that I was rooting for the A’s. It pained me, I tell you. But I have people who I have to root for on the A’s, so that was that. I swallowed my fandom and did it. I still have a few words to say to the coach who got the Giants – words like, “You should have given that team to me! – but it turned out to be a good thing that I was rooting for them A’s, because they had an unprecedented comeback, went into extra innings and walked off. I sunburned (duh) but otherwise, things were wonderful.
I came home to the disastrous end to the real Giants game. Aubrey Huff played second base and pigs flew, as did Ryan Theriot, but it was too late. He’s terribly ill, apparently, and just flew into NY today, but is still not well enough to play. Since the rest of the Giants bench seems to have been mysteriously transported to a galaxy far, far away/the Hundred Acre Wood/Middle Earth, Huff ended up at second. Need I really say more? Moving right along.
Then Philip I-Am-This-Close-To-Remembering-His-Last-Name pitched the 21st perfect game in the history of MLB (yeah, hugs, Bud Selig) for the Chicago White Sox, against the Seattle Mariners. That was something and by something I mean absolutely perfect. Literally. You know what I mean.
Then Jennifer Hudson went through airport security… oh. Sorry. Just surfing the front of the news as I write and there’s a story about Jennifer Hudson and the TSA. News, y’all. Can I please blame this on Bud Selig? No? He wasn’t involved with the TSA? You lie. I am quite positive he was.
Anywho. Then the Yankees had some sort of a brilliant comeback that I followed on and off while I drank orange juice because we’re having a heatwave over here and there is nothing better to soothe the horribleness of a heatwave than orange juice.
This is all to say, it has been a strange and busy, but mostly strange, day in baseball. Flyballs are falling out of my ears and when I try to talk about unrelated things, baseball similes are creeping their way in. So I think I’m going to cut it off right here and nap and eat spinach pizza for a while. Catch you all (and Bud Selig) later.
Diamond Girl
Report: Sabean Has Kansas City Sympathies!
Hello, blog and blog readers! It’s been a little while, hasn’t it? Well, a few days. I am young and silly and see a few days as an absolute eternity, so bear with me.
Anyhow, I have spent these past three days eating mini-cupcakes with green frosting – which, as far as I can tell, are the only upside to St. Patrick’s Day – and listening to Jon Miller on the radio, broadcasting Giants games from rainy Arizona in equally rainy California. I love the rain and all, but this is still a little extreme. Enter knit blanket, knit wrap and thick, knit socks. I am all cocooned and almost warm. So! Time to write a blog post.
As I’ve said before, I’ve been largely encouraged by San Francisco’s showing in Spring Training so far. There have been no massive train wrecks yet and I don’ t feel eliminated from contention on March 19th (in fact, more like completely in contention, what with extra wildcard and all) so the world feels like a bright place, indeed.
Other than the one big ol’ raincloud and I’m not talking about the one outside my window. I’m talking about the one named Frederick Phillip Sanchez, Jr. I’m talking about Freddy Sanchez, peeps. He’s ache-y and pain-y and injury prone. We all know that. But this latest news is still a buzz-kill of massive proportions. I am a big believer that the mystical powers of Freddy Sanchez at second base = duh, winning so Bruce Bochy’s recent quotes that he may or may not be ready for Opening Day not good news at all. At all, at all. Sure, success in 2012 is going to be tied into a whole bunch of guys, not just Sanchez, but I think he’s a key element. Right up there with Aubrey Huff and Buster Posey’s Ankle.
I’m also a tiny bit worried about the recent trade rumors swirling around Chris Stewart and Eli Whiteside and the Royal of Kansas City. Which is not in Kansas, for the record. Not making that mistake again. It does seem more likely that it will be Whiteside, if anyone, because he has a relationship (no-hitter, y’all) with Jonathan Sanchez, but there’s a possibility it could be Stewart instead. This may or may not be a terribly popular opinion, but I would really rather not lose Stewart. I have a deep and long-held belief in Stewart and would like to see at least one more year of him in a Giants uniform as back-up catcher. I think we might see good things. Not Buster Posey’s Ankle level, but good all the same.
This does leave me wondering, though: do I sense a trend? Has Brian Sabean moved his sympathies from the Mets (see: Zach Wheeler, Andres Torres, Ramon Ramirez) to the Royals (see: Jonathan Sanchez, potentially one of our back-up catchers)? Does this mean the Royals are soon going to be filing for bankruptcy and Sabean feels badly, so he’s going to trade loads of our players to them? The mysteries, the mysteries.
Diamond Girl
p.s. C.J. Wilson has lost his Best Hair Crown for good for tweeting the loveable Mike Napoli’s phone number out as a “prank”. I love a good prank as much as the next person, but I have to say I am 100% on Napoli’s side on this. There’s funny and then there’s basically nasty. This falls in the basically nasty category, or so my non-existent tarot cards say.
Wrapping Up the Winter Meetings
I am already going into post-Winter-Meetings-depression mode. That means dried apricots with whipped cream (very good) and staring dismally at the wall and pondering the meaning of life (not good at all). As I’ve said before, the Winter Meetings are pretty much my favorite time of the year so I’m always sad when they come to a close. But I can’t lie, right now I’m also a teensy bit happy. Because all that drama is a little unsustainable, you know? Which would explain the endless revolving door of reality shows on TV.
Anyhow, now all the GMs can go back to their cool offices and hang out in sporty-wanna-be-sunglasses, communicating by phone and email and all that. Probably for the best.
Today was obviously a big one, because both Pujols and C.J. have settled on the Angels of Anaheim and signed ten and five year deals respectively this morning.
Swish is a bit surprised. So am I.
At first I was in mega-Diamond-Girl-rage state because, yes, Dipoto we know you are new and want to show off a bit, but that’s kinda-sorta extreme.
But after a little while I went into mega-Diamond-Girl-mellow state and decided that the Rangers still have the division in the bag. I am sure of it. Positive affirmations go far, you know.
I was never huge on C.J. in the confidence department anyway and they’re going to have Albert long after the Kardashian’s get pulled off air and skinny jeans go the way of shoulder pads. This is for the best, Diamond Girl, this is for the best. (Me talking to myself, right there.)
“Our goal is to win, but within a responsible business model,” says Jon Daniels.
Right.
Everything will be okay.
With the Giants, meanwhile, I can’t say I am sure about everything being okay. Sabes says they’re done for the offseason (no Christmas gifts for use long-ish suffering fans?!) and that puts more than a few question marks on my world view. There is, unfortunately, only one first base on the diamond so Huff/Pill/Belt will have to fight that one out in the boxing ring, I guess, and then I’m a wee bit skeptical of Crawford at short and of the Cabrera/Pagan/Schierholtz outfield. Basically the whole team. No biggie.
But I’m all into them positive affirmations today, so you know what? I think the NL West is up for grabs and the Giants could very well grab it.
There. We are all leaving the Winter Meetings as winners.
Winning.
Yeah.
That.
Diamond Girl
How Many Movie References Can I Squeeze Into One Post? Or a Letter to Aubrey Huff
While I was feeding my fish this morning, I started thinking about Aubrey Huff. And as the day progressed (and the rain came down, down, down), I couldn’t shake it.
Oh, Aubrey.
(He’s two faced, no doubt. Like Harvey Dent except, yeah, way, way less creepy.)
Suffice to say: we’ve seen two different Huffs and have no idea who we’ll see in 2012. Can he be trusted?
(I was all ready to hire James Bond to find out for me, but there are so many of them. Connery or Brosnan?!)
Then again, if we knew, it wouldn’t be baseball, right? So I just need to sit tight and bite my nails and think of some incentives for Aubrey. Because as Freakenomics so aptly states, incentives are the key to everything and anything on Planet Earth.
Actually, let’s start with a threat, not an incentive:
Forget what I said about Melky bringing balance to the Force. That’s going to fall to you. If you don’t deliver, Darth Vader will take over and that would be… bad. Or something.
The weight of the world (Giants) is on your shoulders. No pressure.
Or maybe just, clean up yo act, kid. That might work too.
Diamond Girl
p.s. I don’t usually do “happy dances”, but when the news came out that Pat the Bat is all but retired, I totally did one. Sorry, Burrell-ites. Sort of.
This One Has a Short Title: Blissful Ignorance.
You know what’s a completely surreal feeling? Sitting in a dark concert, having fasted from internet or radio for going-on-four hours so as not to know the World Series outcome, watching a performer who I am still somewhat convinced is a demi-god. And yet knowing that someone is already the World Champion. That it’s been decided. That the series is over. It was a lot more of an interesting psychological experiment than I meant it to be. I was actually just caught in an epic overbooking of myself.
Allow me to explain!
I bought those concert tickets long before Game 7 was on the radar screen and travelled to Los Angeles for it. For a second (okay, more than a second) I considered playing hookey but I ended up going and yeah, the singer, Philippe Jaroussky, was all demi-god-ish and brilliant and sang three encores and I swooned and got his autograph (it’s perfectness is slightly decreased by the fact that it says, “To Emily” not “To Diamond Girl”, but he was French and I didn’t want him thinking Americans normally have names like Diamond Girl, so…) and was more than, much more than, glad that I went.
So I then plugged my ears, did not turn on my iPod or talk to anyone, spent two hours in LA traffic (I am gritting my teeth together at the thought) and then, around midnight, turned on my television and speed watched the game, through the seventh inning. At which point, by some strange luck, the DVR informed me that the recording had ended, because it conflicted with a taping of Grey’s Anatomy Desperate Housewives of Kansas. Or something. So after swirling my ice water around in my glass and screaming at the screen for a minute, I took a deep breath and checked my trusty At Bat App.
And my blissful ignorance went up in a cloud of Southern California smog.
I stared for a good long moment. And then for a few more good long moments. I tried to muster some congratulatory feelings towards St. Louis, but they didn’t really flow easily. Even more so when I saw David Freese getting his hip little sports car. I am going to need a little while to get over this one.
But yeah, congratulations to the Cardinals. Because really, they had an amazing, bizarre year and Showtime now has a darn perfect team to follow next year. And Texas put up a heck of a fight. It was a dramatic, basically well-played series overall and both teams are really, truly great.
And now the season is over. That’s the part I can’t get over. I keep expecting there to just be another game, another anything, but there isn’t. Free agency kicks in pretty soon, the Hot Stove is heating up and we have a million and one Giants and Rangers topics to break down and beard choices to dissect.
So this is where I say thank you all for following this year and all that jazz and wonderfulness. Let’s comfort each other at this difficult time. I, for my part, promise frequent offseason posts, in between Philippe videos, and photos of my blue Coraline hair on Halloween. Because I know you totally want to see it.
Xs and Os, my friends. Xs and Os. We can survive these months together. Listen to Aubrey Huff sing, for starters.
Diamond Girl
p.s. Tip of the day: all you need to get into a snazzy, members-only lounge with brazed lamb chops and a bunch of desserts and the best coffee in the greater Los Angeles area and candlelit tables without paying is an adorable little brother. I mean, it worked for me. And it was awesome. That is what I will be meditating on in the cold winter days to come.
When Life Gives You Lights Out, Play “Lights”!
I gave Tony La Russa a call last night. He didn’t pick up. So I texted him and said, “Nice try, RuRu.” He didn’t answer. I can’t decide whether he was more offended by the message or the nickname. Then again, one good turn deserves another and you think it was fun to stand on the 3rd base line for half an hour on Opening Day?
In all seriousness, I don’t think the lights going out (and the ensuing 15 minute delay with one pitch to go til the end of the game) was a conspiracy and it’s a blip on the map in the long, drawn out and- dare I say it?- torturous win over St. LuLu. It featured some stellar hitting and relief pitching, with Sergio Romo totally redeeming himself and me falling more and more in love with Brandon Crawford. Manny Burriss had a big moment, which made us Manny-ites happy and then there was Nate Schierholtz. What can I say about him except that I still can’t spell his name and it’s about time! He’s finally playing like he should, you know? And it’s so gratifying to watch him and a nice revelation from the endless parade of slumping outfielders. Then there was Aubrey. I can’t say that might be a sign he’s heating up. I’m become a total skeptic about him. I need to see a whole lot more before I’ll laugh and talk really fast with the only decipherable words being, “slow starter”.
I just realized that this is actually a four game set (why, Bud? Why?) so my eyes will be peeled for any more suspicious stuff at Busch Stadium and I will be praying that Arizona cools off a little before we go out there in two weeks.
Around the league, the Angels team flight had an emergency landing (aaah!) Dodgers have a fire and an unfit parent on their hands (I feel for them. I really do.) and Kansas City had an incredibly sweet proposal which I keep watching over and over, trying to decide if I think it was really a surprise or not. I vaguely think it was all planned. And yeah. Santa doesn’t exist. Sorry.
Diamond Girl
p.s. Bye-bye, Ryan Rohlinger and happy travels in the Rockies organization! We’ll miss you ’round here.
Fear the Razor and the Moon Might Really Be Made Out Of Blue Cheese
Oh yeah.
Extra inning games and walk-offs tend to bother me, because I think a team should be able to win without ‘em, but that win was really, really good. It felt like a giant, “Snap out of it!”
I mean, Aubrey’s homer made him kindof/sortof/wecansayitdid snap out of it and we can only hope the same happens for Cody. And all the Schierholtz /Fontenot wonderfulness is the kind of thing that makes me wear my wacky grin everywhere for a few hours. But no, they haven’t shut up about his height. It’s okay. As long as he’s good, I’ll take it and I’m sure he will too.
Now I’m going to make a bold statement. You ready? Need a refill on the popcorn? Okay. Get it. Then hurry back so you can hear my bold statement. This is it:
People do better without beards.
Cody Ross is example given. I could go on and on about why psychologically, but physically? I don’t think it’s rocket science. I’ve never had a beard (duh factor there) but I imagine it would be kind of uncomfortable, not to mention take a lot of grooming time which takes away from conditioning time, not to mention puts undue stress on your wrists, hands and arms. Just when Timmy laid off the blowdryer and his hair started looking air-dried that directly correlated to his pitching better.
I know nobody else buys that theory but I dare a beat writer to actually ask him about that. Just like I dare someone to go take a piece of the moon and eat it and prove it’s not blue cheese, albeit old cheese with no oxygen. I’m serious. Okay, I’m not serious about the blue cheese. But I’m serious about the facial hair/normal hair habits and how that impacts a player.
And… (::looks around, then whispers::) you look better without a beard too. Fact, Brian Wilson. Fact.
Worst case scenario? You end up like this oompa loompa.
So how about this year the Giants become the clean-shaven team? Fear the, um, razor?
Diamond Girl
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