Tag Archives: aubrey huff

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.

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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.

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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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I Am Starting To Forget How It Feels For the Giants To Be At Home And Other Assorted Depressingness

At nine o’clock this morning I was totally perky with my Madden Girl pumps, a new Banana Republic salmon colored mini and cheerleader ponytail to go be a cheerleader at a student music recital.  At three o’clock this afternoon I was still being a cheerleader, this time sitting in Little League bleachers, totally wilted, unable to think from pollen allergies, with winter boots more suited for a Transylvanian winter than a Bay Area May 1st and hair that was limp as spaghetti.

Which is all to say I only heard about five minutes of today’s game and it was in the third when the Nats tied it up.  Which is not to say that I am a bad luck charm.  Just that it was depressing.  And it seems a lot of other things were depressing about this game.  Aubrey is under .200 (what?  Yes, he is.)  Darren Ford got caught stealing for the second day in a row and the Giants scored a dismal two runs on seven hits with a sore luck losing Matt Cain.  Ugh.  That is all.

Yesterday’s game was one that triggered a brilliant, Giants Baseball: WEIRD! on Twitter (@Mikayla_Trimble) and left me scratching my head.  I don’t even know where to begin with that one.  All I’ll say is that win or lose this team is desperately off and Sabean and Bochy have to be putting their heads (I wouldn’t want my head near Bochy’s.  It’d look really… small.) together and plotting a makeover.  And I’m not talking the kind that includes a fresh t-shirt and hip bangs.  I mean things like figure out how to get Ishi on this team or maybe how to get Whiteside in there a little more often and maybe a pass for a nice little two week vacation to the Seychelles Islands for Aubrey to celebrate his new batting average.  Seriously.  I just think he needs a few days on the bench.  If you’re that adverse to the idea of a few days at the beach.  And it’s beyond unfortunate about Travis.  Gurus, help me out.  I know he’s out of options and off the 40 man, but does that really (or effectively) mean that he can’t rejoin the Major League team for the rest of the season?

Meanwhile the Rangers are in Oakland.  And having some miscommunications through the press.  Again.  What is their problem?

 

They also hit homeruns like there was no tomorrow yesterday and now that it is tomorrow they hit none.

It was a bad day in baseball but the good(ish) news is that the Giants are tied for second place and the Rangers are in first, if only by half a game.  Tomorrow will be better, right? 

And I am so over the roadtrip.  I am starting to forget how it feels for the Giants to be at home.  Not like I miss it.  I just can’t quite remember it.  It’s like when homesickeness turns into that dull ache.  This is getting more depressing by the second.  Have a delicious dinner and we’ll talk again tomorrow.

Diamond Girl

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Coors Field the Chamber of Horrors and Remember The Balloon Scene in Despicable Me?

We sucked all the air out of Chase Field.  And then, yeah, they sucked the air of us.  Basically, Madison showed encouraging signs aside from the 32 pitch first inning (ouch), Posey and Sandoval went back-to-back with the longball while Huff hit his first of this year, Rowand shows no signs of slowing down (toothy smile) and they are still desperately in need of an Inspirational Defense Coach.

Which is all to say that the game wasn’t that bad.  It was just bad in that they didn’t lose, they made me think they would win and then they lost.  À la Despicable Me balloon scene.  (Can’t find the clip online, but he comes up to a crying little boy, makes him happy with a balloon animal, and then promptly pops it and leaves the child in tears once again.)

 

Coors Field is up tonight.  Say that out loud.  Doesn’t it sound like The Chamber of Horrors, or something?  No?  Must just be me.  And have to do with the creepy humidor.  Wins would be absolutely lovely, but I’m not exactly predicting them.  Positivity only, so I won’t predict anything.

And is this article from the Dallas Observer about Colby Lewis for real?  I’ve been following the Rangers with wide eyes this year, though I haven’t written much about them, and while I get that the reporter is frustrated with them cooling off, what he says is just obscenely ridiculous.

“In Game 2, Colby Lewis is scheduled to start after missing his last regular turn in the rotation because — I’m not making this up — his wife, Jenny, was giving birth in California. To the couple’s second child.  Don’t have kids of my own but I raised a step-son for eight years. I know all about sacrifice and love and how great children are.  But a pitcher missing one of maybe 30 starts? And it’s all kosher because of Major League Baseball’s new paternity leave rule?  Follow me this way to some confusion.  Imagine if Jason Witten missed a game to attend the birth of a child. It’s just, I dunno, weird. Wrong even.  Departures?  Totally get it because at a funeral you’re saying goodbye to someone for the last time. But an arrival is merely saying hello to someone you’ll see the rest of your life.  Dave Bush filled in for Lewis last week in Detroit and threw three scoreless innings of a game that Mark Lowe and the bullpen eventually coughed up. But that’s not the point. Baseball players are paid millions to play baseball. If that means “scheduling” births so they occur in the off-season, then so be it. Of the 365 days in a year, starting pitchers “work” maybe 40 of them, counting spring training and playoffs.  If it was a first child, maybe. But a second child causing a player to miss a game? Ludicrous.”

Let’s clear a few things up.  Nobody thinks you’re making this up.  It is not in the least bit ludicrous.  It’s not even rare.  I know MLB has a new paternity leave rule, but before that players took off for their children’s births anyway (I remember Santiago Casilla last year and Cole Hamels in 2009).  I don’t even know what to say about the “an arrival is merely saying hello to someone you’ll see the rest of your life.”  I, too, have not had kids, but I don’t think that’s how parents view births.  If you want to shell Colby Lewis for his pitching or his hair or his choice of walk-up music, fine.  But please don’t do it about his paternity leave.  Not cool at all.

Diamond Girl

p.s.  Happy Anniversary, 1906 Earthquake.  That 3.8 was cute.  Just don’t go getting ideas that we’re okay with something bigger. 

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