Tag Archives: barry zito

A Starbucks and Rain-Related Rant

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.

Diamond Girl

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Sunset Photos Because Why Not

I don’t know about you, but to me, this totally looks like an orange sky.

To those of you who are all, “Uh, no, that’s pink,” were you the ones who told your little cousin that Santa does not exist?  I know it was you.  I know it.

Diamond Girl

p.s.  Game 5.  That is all.

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A Consolatory Beanie and Some Conspiracy Theories

Hello, people, and apologies for my absence!  I’ve had a bit of a crazy few days/been quietly enjoying the fact that we have meaningless September baseball/Green Day has a new album out and so there’s that/my silly sister is moving halfway across the world and making me all weepy.

Meaningless September baseball is surprisingly fun, though – especially when the team knocks my sparkly flip-flops off and makes it seem like it is completely meaningful.  It’s a bit like Spring Training, except with cinnamon gingerbread lattes and a guaranteed playoff spot.  They just finished up their last homestand, taking two out of three from the Diamondbacks (who are the Diamondbacks, but that’s a different story) and are hitting San Diego and LA one last time to wrap up the season.

Matt Cain did everything and then some, Barry Zito did everything and then some and Tim Lincecum kind of floundered and made us all feel badly for criticizing him because, guys, he missed the celebration when they clinched and looked altogether like a sad puppy.

I mean, he always kind of looks like a sad puppy.  But now more than ever.  I want to hand him a consolatory beanie and say, It’s meaningless September baseball!  You’ll be fine!  (Or you won’t be.  And you’ll develop a massive chip on your shoulder about it, a la Barry, and then be fantastic a few years later so, lo, everything I said was true and you will be fine even if it’s not necessarily all that soon.)

The Giants were a sight to see travelling yesterday evening, because it was rookie hazing day.

One question, though.  A few people said they hazed the rookies and sophomores, because they didn’t do it last year.  Is that true?  Because you know how I love a good conspiracy theory.  And this one is too good to pass up.  Maybe… they were possessed by magnetic-drawn robots that love metal, but mysteriously hate dress-up.  Maybe… they had someone on the team who had a fear of clowns (common phobia!) and for a reason to be named later, that was the only costume they could have done.  Or maybe Sabes was in a nasty mood and rained on their parade.  Which isn’t all that good a conspiracy theory at all.

Or maybe it was reported on at the time and I just have the memory of a goldfish?   Yes.  That seems likely.

Diamond Girl

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Wanted: A “No Comment” Blimp

It’s that time of year again!  What time of year, you ask?  That very special time, I say, when a million odd Giants fans opinions are worth as much as one Barry Zito opinion.  I’m talking about the Willie Mac Award, of course.  The recipient of the award will be announced tonight (spoiler alert: it’s Buster) and the fan vote tallies to one vote, vs. all the players who get a vote apiece.  I’m of the opinion that they should just not let the fans vote at all if they’re going to be so stingy about.  Why one vote?  Why not three, in honor of – you guessed it – the magic number?

All kidding aside, I’m kind of jittery going into this series against the Padres.  (It’s the Padres.  Who am I kidding?)  Jittery in a good way.  Jittery in a they-don’t-even-have-Jed-anymore way.  I’m going to need to stockpile more blood orange San Pellegrino for the *coughjinxcough* potential big moment this weekend.  Can you believe we’re that close to a champagne party?  Didn’t the season just start?

Not to dampen the mood, but it was also announced today that Melky has become ineligible to win the batting title.  He wasn’t exactly eligible to begin with, but through some loopholes he was and… now he’s not again.  Confusing, I know.  The story is that Melky requested not to be eligible because of his image issues or whatever (I think his image issues run a little deeper, but he knows better than I do) and MLB granted the request.  (Bud Selig was all, “We have a second wildcard.  My life is compete.  Do what you want, interns.”)

The MLB web team is evidently too busy making their Twitter account private and then public and then private again and then public again to update the batting average list.

I’m not sure how I feel about this.  Melky took performance-enhancing drugs.  It should be a simple answer, probably: he’s not eligible.  But I don’t necessarily feel that way.  There are so many tainted records and awards in the history of baseball that this move feels fairly arbitrary.  It doesn’t change my opinion of Melky either way.  I don’t think he’s the only one doing it, so I don’t have a particular amount of distaste for him.  I understand why he’d want to be out of the running for the title, but the whole situation is just icky.  I’m not sure what would have been the best path to take with this, but I do know that whoever does end up landing the batting title is going to be fielding a whole lotta questions.  If I were him, I’d start stocking up on the “No comment” t-shirts/blimps right about now.

Must go prepare for Orange Friday.  Catch you all later.

Diamond Girls

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What the Giants and Haikus and the French Police Have in Common

(There were shadows.)

There was Barry Zito being lights-out.

(There were shadows.)

There was the Giants offense actually, you know, hitting.

(There were shadows.)

There were the Dodgers being all, Wtvr, take the division.

(There were shadows.)

There were the Giants being all, Sure, we’ll take it.

5.5 games up, in first place.  Magic number is 17.  The End.

(And yeah, there were shadows.)

I tried to find some significance to the number 17 to regale you all with, but there wasn’t all that much.  All I did discover, courtesy of Wikipedia, is that it’s the number to call for the police in France and the total number of syllables in a haiku, so I guess those are fun(ish) facts.  Or not really.  The Giants need to hurry up and pare down that magic number so I can find all sorts of fantastically weird facts.  We’re heading to Coors Field, aka the Chamber of Horrors, tonight, so weirdness is sure to abound.

(Oh yeah, still shadows.)

But seriously, I have a question: why does ESPN schedule West Coast games so they start at 5 and then spend the entire broadcast talking about the weird start time and the shadows?  That would be like me over-baking my cupcakes every time I make them and then going, Look, look!  So interesting!  They’re burnt!  That would just be weird.  If I had a dollar for every time they mentioned the shadows on the broadcast, I could severely cut into the US deficit or maybe buy a Burberry trench-coat.

Diamond Girl

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