(Also, Matt Cain homered in today’s ongoing game. Then Cole Hamels homered. It’s been a pretty homer-ific handful of days over here. Though living in an alternate LA reality as I am, I tend to doubt any of it really happened.)
Dear San Diego Padres,
Look. I know we’ve had our differences. I know I hated you with something of a burning passion last year- and, okay, much of this year- and I may have made one too many cracks about Jon Daniels vs. Jed Hoyer, but deep down we’re friends, right? I mean, I hope so. Because I have a teeny-tiny favor to ask of you.
You are going to be inhabiting Chase Field, the home of the much-feared Diamondbacks this evening and I, well, need you to beat them.
Pretty simple, really. Just get a few hits, throw some nice pitches and come out with the W.
The reason I’m proposing this is that it’s really good for both of us. My Giants get a chance to end today only 2 games back and you get a chance to be only, eh, 11 games back! Win-win, I know. You don’t need to tell me how smart I am.
Hey, if you want to just sweep ‘em, you could do that too! Because, just between you and me, the Giants totally rained on my parade yesterday. I was sniffing my fingers-which-smelled-like-lemons-due-to-my-making-of-lemon-bars and totally, 100% ready for a win and then they went and… lost. Sometimes my optimism is hard to keep going. Which is, of course, why I could use a little help from you.
Thankfully, the lemon bars were perfectly delicious. So my day was not entirely ruined.
So do we have a deal, Pads? What if I throw in a new name for your stadium? (Because even you must admit that Petco Park is rather lame.) I’m thinking something along the lines of Prada Park or Stadium of Marc Jacobs. You know.
p.s. Cole Hamels cannot walk the runway. In case there was ever a question about that.
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.
p.s. Happy Anniversary, 1906 Earthquake. That 3.8 was cute. Just don’t go getting ideas that we’re okay with something bigger.