Holiday Road

I will be maintaining radio silence for a week or so. We are loading the kinfolk into the Family Truckster and heading for the hinterland. Be good. I will be back soon.

Better Living Through Chemistry

I never took chemistry in school. That stuff seems entirely too taxing for me. Besides, I just don't trust those chem dudes. When the pocket protector geeks mass, there is always trouble a-brewin'. And don't tell me that nobody uses a pocket protector anymore. Those things still exist. They just come in the form of those computery gizmos the eggheads wear on belt clips. These guys still can't get a date. The really cool English/Journalism major dazzlers like me traffic in strained metaphors and tired cliches. Open any urban rag these days and some nerd reporter is waxing all poetic about the importance of team chemistry. How lame is that? Is it any wonder we can't get dates either.

It's bad enough prose pushers buy into this nonsense but Sabean has soaked millions into this Lifetime Movie of the Week pap. Having a sharing and nurturing clubhouse is all well and good. Having a den of surly, distant and troubled me first creepos who actually win games is better. I don't have to share a soak in the whirlpool with any of these guys. I don't have to swap tax dodge schemes or agent horror stories. I am not going to any strip joint with any of these people. I don't care if they like each other or like me. Get me a few unseemly miscreants who fulfill my dream of a Giants World Series victory during some period of my life cycle and I am sleeping easy in my eternal rest.

Don't Leave me Standing Here

Baseball seasons are long and winding roads that lead to your door. I have seen that road before and it always leads me here: The EMS annual June 26th State of the Giants Report. I have had the staff finessing this report for weeks now, milking every nugget for whatever gold might be discovered therein and we have concluded that we have no idea what state the Giants occupy.

Roster instability is to be expected. Few teams end up with the roster they had in April. Our Personnel Directer, Paul creates a pool every year where we all guess who will be on the 25 man roster on June 26th. Oddly enough, not one poolist had both Luis Figueroa and Guillermo Rodriquez in their square, though George in Food Services did have Joe Roa.

We are not seeing a cavernous, gaping maw of difference in the talent level of the Padres and the Giants. We are also not seeing any clear cut reasons why the Padres are pretty good and the Giants are pretty something else but we also thought that no one would ever want a cell phone either.

Nick Noonan. Who knows if he can play or not, that's a great name. We are seeing serious potential in that name.

Quest For Fire

The universe has certainly taken a turn toward the surreal when the Padres are a better team than the Yankees. While a two game win streak is much sweeter than a two game losing streak things get tougher tonight. Can the Giants win against a team that doesn't have Miguel Cairo playing first base? I say yes.

Based on nothing more than a hunch and a stubborn belief that the Giants are due a break or two, we may be in for a stretch of at least semi-winning baseball. The starting pitchers had a catastrophic week or so but I am guessing they all haven't suddenly gone bad on us. Though the pen has been a little hashed lately with overuse, they haven't been awful. The offense will never even resemble the timeless efficiency of the US Postal Service but some guys seem to be coming around a bit.

This creates a quandary among the Lunatic Fringe elements (btw, I am running for Secretary/Treasurer this year). Do we want the Giants to win enough that Sabean might be tempted to keep his trusted vets and maybe add a crucial piece like Julio Franco? No, that doesn't seem like a good idea. Still, I am not so jaded that I want the team to lose either. Winning is fun..Losing, not so much.

On the other hand, a fire sale seems like the most cathartic course to chart. Unfortunately, most of the guys we want fired probably won't be. I hate to be an alarmist but we may be looking at pretty much the same cast of aging outcasts next season too. It will be no easy task to find takers for the untakeable though it is a worthy quest. If finally figuring out how to build a World Series winning Giants team out of the dying embers of the last 3 years isn't the noblest of heroic journeys, well, I am afraid I don't know what is. But that is a mountain to climb another day. For now, a few wins would be nice.

RIP Shooter

Rod Beck was a bulldog and a great Giant. This is a tough one.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Well, I feel better. I realize one win does not a juggernaut make. The Giants will still wake up this morning with the same abundant horn-o-plenty of troubles and woe they have suffered from all June. But it was a win, pilgrim and I am way into wins. The redemptive power of my set of mercenary rich guys beating their set of even richer guys is profound. The lesser angels of bitterness and shame can take the morning off. How sweet is that?

Speaking of angels, Villalona is playing ball in the AZL. I am normally reticent in believing 16 year old boys can do much other than sleep in their clothes, sleep in class and eat but Angel has to be more. All he has to do is become a perennial all star, put up MVP caliber numbers yearly and lead this team to an unprecedented string of World Series domination. And, I would like to see that starting with his September call up this season. No pressure, kid.

As stem winders go, Bochy's last two tantrums have displayed little of the maniacal performance art a Lou Piniella or the rosin bag grenade throwing dude in the Atlanta system can muster but he shows promise. It used to be you could buy a paint can of Bochy Vanilla right off the shelf. No mixing required. Now, there might just be a dash of Desert Sand in there. A few more bad calls at first and he may go all Antique White or, dare I say, a saucy shade of Egyptian Cotton. I am not banking on a full Beige yet but he still might make it to Bleached Tusk. A glossy latex finish is probably out of reach, though.

The Tears of a Clown

The hoi polloi were out in force at the old ball yard last evening. Though the Yankees and Giants match up has lost most of its cachet (its sashay too, I imagine), there was a certain air of nostalgia hovering over the scene. The Giants and the Yankees are old school icons in a world where people believe naming teams after fish is cutting edge. While the Yankees will undoubtedly make some sort of splashy trade next month and climb into contention, the Giants may be experiencing the last weekend of the season where PACSBCAT&T Park is the hot spot for the elite to meet and greet. The All Star Game will draw the glitterati but that's not the same thing as trying to draw 8 thousand paying customers when the Pirates come to town. We live in ephemeral times. The next big thing is always just around the corner, except for the Giants who's last big thing happened before Elvis came along.

Billy Crystal and Robin Williams were there last night and I believe they showed up because they are actual baseball fans. I like that trait in people. Baseball is good. Crystal lives in NY so we probably won't see much more of him but I suspect Williams will be back. The Giants disease ravages the rich and famous too. These next few months will separate the hardcore wheat from the "I am only showing up because it's trendy" chaff. This will be a tough slog for the faithful but the faithful have to show up. If not, they simply confirm Magowan's long term claim that his fan base will jump ship at the sight of players they don't know well. Magowan doesn't think much of Bay Area fans, but I do. He says you will never stand for a rebuild. I think that is insulting as hell. I realize Mags is in fear of the leg breakers at Chase and waking up to Lou Seal's severed melon in your bed is down right scary but here's hoping he finally sees the value in building a self sustaining system that doesn't rely on recognizable players, years past their prime, just to soak you for a few extra shekels. It's been proven conclusively that Giants fans have a long attention span. The true believers just don't go away. Mags will lose the casual fringe by rebuilding with some hungry young players but the Lunatic Fringe isn't going anywhere. Stars are entertaining but so is winning. Why don't we shoot for that.

Lava Daydreaming

The Giants may have finally hit pay dirt. There is some exciting news coming out of Salem, Oregon(and how often can anyone say that?) in the volcanic form of Shane Turner. Like Krakatoa, East of Java, he has burst forth in a rush of molten lava so unlike the disappointing and dormant Volcanoes we usually get. He is no Angel Villalona, who seems to only exist in imagination at this point, but Shane has been erupting all season to the tune of a 1.125 ops. That is smoking, people! Sure, he's only had 10 ab's so far. False hope has been built on less. The dude has a jack, a walk and a stolen base already! The Giants haven't had that rare combination of speed, power and patience in one their farmhands since...well...never. Or maybe it just seems that way.
At any rate, I am clinging to this guy for all I got. He hasn't buried my hope like Pompeii yet. I believe.

There were folks who decided to just ride it out rather than evacuate when Mount St. Helen's blew. That was a singularly bad idea. So was making a movie with Pierce Brosnan as the Bond, James Bond of vulcanologists. It just doesn't play. The world is full of nasty volcanoes and bad ideas. The Giants have added more than their share of the super charged and blazing hot igneous boulders raining down death and destruction from the sky in ill conceived notions. Except for that one time.

Barry Bonds was the greatest free agent signing of all time, in any sport: 14 years of immense production, a beautiful though heavily mortgaged park and a steady stream of paying customers willing to cough up 10 bucks for a beer. It just never lays out better than that. But, the thing is; You only get one of the greatest free agent signings of all time gifts. The fire gods are harsh. They give you a nice sunny morning and that one good thing, then bam! In sacrifice, you must hurl yourself into the crater and immolate on a pyre of smoldering greenbacks torched by signings of the likes of Brett Tomko. Payback is a cigarette burn on your new couch.

Surely, Mags isn't so arrogant and foolish to believe he can fool Vulcan and his posse and replicate the Barry Bonds orgy of good fortune by signing A-Rod. Pete, did you sleep through all your humanities classes in school? Messing with vengeful deities can only lead to a bumpy ferry ride on the River Styx. Back away from your A-Rod lust and you have a chance. The fire poo bahs understand baseball. You had your quick fix in Bonds but now you have to work under the radar. Build from within. Don't succumb to the feel good..Do the dirty work. Don't tempt the fates.

A Nearly Unforgivable Faux Pas

I have been decidedly remiss in publicly offering my sincere thank yous to my son Tom. He shares more than little blame for the acorn of an idea that grew into the mighty sapling that is EMS. An unwitting English professor innocently suggested that Tom start a little blog to chronicle his adventures in New York City. He drew me into this sordid enterprise by assuring me that at least some person somewhere would link our blogs even if was just he and I linking each other. He reads EMS every day and offers smart criticism. I have to pretend to ignore him to keep that whole stodgy old man /rebellious youth thing percolating but his input helps more than he knows.

Since I am a hopeless dinosaur, about as technical as a spoon, Tom's help in setting up this site has been crucial. He has shown remarkable patience. He is a good guy and I hope that you will take the time to read his stuff. Other than his strange insistence on putting me on hold just to take his girlfriend's calls, I have no complaints.

Oops...Tupperware Party Thursday

Yeah, I know things tend to even out. I can vaguely imagine that the Giants will win another game sooner or later. They may even win more than one. I realize that's a pretty shallow grave of dead certainty but the Giants are testers. Being a fan should be an easy enough day hike but they have given us the Himalayas and Magowan is too cheap to provide decent Sherpas. We are not talking a quick 20 minutes on the stairmaster here. This is crossing the Atlantic in a row boat with half an oar, running the marathon in flip flops, holding your gut in for three hours at the swimming pool, understanding women and passing kidney stones hard. The Giants make you earn it. We have only reached the cat days of June and I am already scrambling for solace. Why, Why, Why???

But enough about me. Let's talk trades. Phil over in Accounting is pushing that Morris and Durham to the Mets for any breathing entity deal. Phil's an idiot, though he is clearly a savant when it comes to manipulating both sets of books we maintain here at EMS. He may have stumbled onto something. Surely, the Mets would like another starting pitcher. Jose Valentin is as consistent and dependable as Courtney Love. Durham might be just what the doctor ordered. I have to believe we could get something good in return. Actually, I don't have to, I want to believe. Don't roll your eyes at me, sister.

Along with the 10 other viewers who didn't switch over to the Weather Channel after the third inning yesterday, I watched the whole damn game. There were highs and lows aplenty and all the drama of a very special episode of Full House. The Brewers fans were certainly yucking it up and having a grand old time. Their team is winning and they get to wear plastic cheese things on their heads. Even the most jaded fan understands the value in that. Tomorrow, Corporate Naming Rights Park will be overrun with johnny-come-lately, bandwagon hopping, superior attitude toting, shiv packing Yankees fans. That is too grim to even think about.

Speaking of Milwaukee, anybody else catch the forlorn shots of Magowan in the stands. He didn't look amused. Well, hard cheese, man. If we aren't amused, you don't get to be either.*

* Mary Alice over in PR said I have to up the rant level because this is apparently sweeps week in the blogosphere. I hate it when the suits try to commercialize my art but Chase Manhattan Bank is holding a mighty large mortgage on Strawman Towers.

A heads up

I would urge any and all readers to click on the Only Baseball Matters link. John has hit a home run with his latest piece.

Ends and Odds...

Big D over at Giants Win pointed out something today guaranteed to bring you right down. On July 22, 2006 the Giants were in first place in the west at 51 and 47. That would be the day Benitez gave up the portend of dark doom jack to Termel Sledge that sent this whole deal spiralling into pain and despair. Since that brief, shining moment in time the lads have slumbered their way to a smokin' 55 and 78 run. Some of the fresh faced and eager young minions working for me here at EMS are starting to lose faith. A lot of the botoxed and not so eager staffers are folding up on me too. Time to focus on the good things..

1. Corporate Naming Rights Park is a lovely place to watch a ball game.
2. er.......
3. ???
4. sigh....
5. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The laws of supply and demand are always in play. The Giants have a deep surplus of aging and expensive players. I demand they be traded immediately. Unfortunately, other teams operate under the precepts of supply and demand too. I am guessing they won't be demanding aging and expensive players any time soon. I suppose if the Giants were to in fact supply other teams with a nice fat check to cover their salary for the next few years along with the aging and expensive players, we could be talking turkey. Or maybe Belgium.

Always willing to buck conventional wisdom the Giants are now exploring the obvious benefits of having a 33 year old rookie on the team. Sure, winning games is important but so is that seal of approval from the Gray Panthers. Surely, there must be compelling reasons why a player spends 10, 12 years in the minors before becoming the crucial missing link that ties this baby together like the perfectly aligned DNA strand that is Kate Beckinsale, but I blindly reject them as invalid and possibly ageist. Let's keep good thoughts.

I am all for individuality and self expression. However, I believe the root word for uniform is...uniform. How can the Giants present a united front if they all wear different sleeves? If half the team is wearing their pants like knickers and the other half is holding them down around their spikes with the same little elastic strap my mom used in 1961 to keep those kicky little stretch numbers sitting just so, what are they telling us?

What Made Milwaukee Famous

Are the Giants now the Buckhorn Beer of the NL? I am thinking they probably don't even rate that high. The generic swill they used to flush into the plain white can is probably a closer fit. Sure the stuff gets you drunk but it's a bland, colorless drunk. There's a pretty apt metaphor for your San Francisco Giants. The descent from a fine pilsner to Hamms in the 'Keg Can' is a tough and somber journey.

Maybe a stinking pub crawl on a three day runner of fried pork rinds, Camels and Falstaff is the best way to get through this season. The whole debacle is taking on the delightful bouquet of a projectile vomit fest. As nasty and odoriferous as that burning morning after grinder is the agonizing epiphany that the Brewers are doing things better than the Giants on almost every level.

In the starting lineup tonight they had 7 youthful and cheap homegrown ball players. That the Brewers figured out this is a good way to do business while the Giants were shooting Burgies in their car is both stunning and sad. Signing washed up old has beens is like picking up a sixer of Old Milwaukee. Can this ever be a satisfying choice? Regal Select, maybe, but Old Milwaukee?

They say you really only rent beer but why do we have to go all out Pabst on 3 year contracts. Anybody can slag down an Oly but who wants to saddle up to that bar night after night locked in by a no trade clause. Are you really aiming high if tonight you let it be Lowenbrau?

While I realize that crying in your beer is kind of pathetic, I am sensitive. This thing is hobbling me like a high school bladder. Honey, can you bring me a Schlitz?

Hey, Put a Little Mustard on That Thing...

Sadly, as the season droops like my no longer magnificent abdomen over the waist on the white Sansabelt pants of remorseful destiny, the late 70's are coming back like a cold sore on your wedding day. You could pretty much count on this same abysmal behavior by various Giants squads all through the horrendous disco years. There may, in fact, be some sinister correlation between the two events. That should perhaps always remain a mystery..Two things we do know, the Brewers were pretty good then and the Giants occupied some other reality.

Whatever the Giants are preoccupied with now is oddly reminiscent of that dark and forlorn time. While I certainly like the night life and I like to boogie on the disco round as much as the next guy, I just don't want to relive this. Why do the Giant feel compelled to go all David Soul on us now? Haven't we suffered enough? Put down the puka shells, men. If the ugly realization that the Brewers are better than you doesn't snap you out of your funk, what makes you think popping on a leisure suit will improve your chances to score?

We just can't be having another ghastly dry spell like you accosted us with in the late 70's. We can't! We can't! That we probably will gnaws at me.

On a completely unrelated note, the Wiener Races are upon us again and that is always big fun. I am a little concerned by the trustworthiness of the results, though. Lately, Hotdog, all loaded up with rat feces, horse genitalia and obviously human growth hormone, has been dominating this event. Why isn't Mitchell investigating this? The numbers never lie and the numbers are telling a scary story.

Bratwurst 4
Polish Sausage 9
Italian Sausage 5
Hot Dog 14
Chorizo 5

That's overall wins, people and that's scandal with a capital S. You can't tell me Hotdog works any harder in the off season than Polish Sausage. That dude is one whama jamma kielbasa and he can't buy a break. Bratwurst sucks but that's a given. To see Italian Sausage come back from that unfortunate boiling incident and perform as well as he has is heartwarming(or maybe heartburning after 6 pm). It's clear they rushed Chorizo too soon but that's Selig for you. Somebody needs to be raked over the coals here until we can get some answers. If we lose our belief in the integrity of the Wiener Races, what's left?

Odds and Ends...

There are any number of viable reasons why the Giants offense tends to slumber. I mean traveling to Boston is like way far, dude. That sort of trip would tax even the heartiest grandma I know. And nobody can ever convince me those bats aren't heavy.

The Giants still appear to have some nice pitching prospects in the minor leagues. One could argue that the franchise has a bit of a surplus of young arms, particularly since they just drafted 200 of them last week. Here's a thought certainly worth dismissing after limited debate. Why not trade some of those minor league pitchers for some minor league position players? Is there some ritualistic code of the scouts that disallows this practice? I am putting the staff on the case.

Speaking of the staff, there are quiet whispers rocketing around the corner offices at the palatial corporate headquarters here in Strawman Towers. In hushed but urgent voices the questions linger. Who is Brian Horwitz? What does he do? Does he merit any further study. Why are they asking me? Are those real?

Are the ball dudes starting to die off? They seem to be running out a bunch of 35 year olds lately instead of the kindly old gents we have come to know and love. This perplexes me some because the Giant do seem to value the kindly old gents they parade out in the lineup every day. Let's try something different. Why not have kindly old ball dudes and sprightly young ball players? I am willing to accept the addition of sprightly young ball dudettes for purely prurient reasons but that is perhaps best suited for examination in a different forum.

Express Yourself

The Giants have issues..I think we can all acknowledge that in a meaningful and non judgemental manner. The lads could and probably should address their personal challenges in an open and free exchange of supportive consensus building dialogs designed not to threaten but to connect. Perhaps they could engage in some sort of collective and cleansing group hug on Oprah..Maybe a quick get away to an Iron John sing-along is in order. Or...they could just get into a senseless and life affirming benches clearing brawl. There is always therapy to be mined there.

I fully cop to a fondness for Quiche but I am guessing a full on Fight Club over some slight, perceived or real, is almost as therapeutic as a contract extension for these guys. I don't want to see some sort of passive, pretend fight Mambo either..I want the the kind of manly barn burner where jerseys are ripped off, eye black and blood run together like a fine Goya, Renel comes down from the booth and pops some dude just because she can and Randy Johnson ends up wearing a Giants hat, even if he isn't there.

Bochy has an enormous head. Let's get some use out of that. Can you imagine the massive Cocoa Butt that guy could lay on someone? As long as you don't step on his big toe, Kuiper would be mixing it up like a farm boy. You know Krukow is just looking for any excuse to go off. Sure, Magowan would hide behind Sue Burns but she would be throwing hay makers for the both of them while Baer would be huddling with the money people to see what kind of scratch they could glean from the pay per view rights.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, fighting never solves anything except for when it does..Time to go coats off, gentlemen. Think of the children.

Trade Me or Trade Me!!!

I'm guilty. We're all guilty, man. I want the Giants to win now except for those times when I want them to win a few years from now. I am always quite certain the Giants are just one puzzle piece away from a lovely seascape or an adorable little kitty with big black eyes. But then I am always thinking that if the Giants would just trade away everybody they don't want or need, I could gladly table Valhalla for a couple of rebuilding years. That seems like the sensible plan only mitigated massively by that nagging, niggling little notion that other teams aren't exactly clamoring for players the Giants don't want or need.

Luckily for me, naval gazing this dichotomy is nothing more than an intellectual exercise. While I am not long on intellect or enamored with exercise, my foolproof master plans for Giants domination will never result in implementation. This is surely for the best. Even my hand picked staff of supplicants can't contain their derision at the very thought of me as a GM.

Sabean, on the other hand, is the GM and mostly likely the lamest of lame ducks at that-not personally lame, the goatee and the Patrick James corporate casual gangster shirts are cool- but lame in the sense that his paychecks from Don Mago will be going into witness protection about twenty seconds after the season ends.

Still, Sabean has the job and everything, and I mean everything, good and important in this world is riding on what he does with Matt Morris. Does he trade away a pitcher who helps him win now even though now doesn't seem like a strong contender for reality? Does he trade him for a rental who will inevitably ride the Boras train to LA for a stint with the excrementals first chance he gets? Does he trade him for that mythical, solid, everyday, regular under 30? I am not sure the Giants are even legally allowed to possess such a beast but I am willing to risk relentless prosecution to find out.

No pressure Sabes. The multitudes are down with you, baby. We are just demanding that you make it all better now. Or make it better in 2011.

Digging..

Pitching is the name of the game. Well actually, Baseball is the name of the game but they could call it anything and the Giants would still find a way to vex me. Conventional wisdom has it that good pitching beats good hitting. Hurling convention to the wind, the Giants have good pitching that can't even beat bad hitting. Not many teams in history can make that claim, mister.

The remarkably accommodating and placid Giants offense has no problem suppressing its collective and possibly phallocentric urge to score runs. Yeah, they do go all Neanderthal from time to time and pound out 15 runs against the Rockies but that is sooo Pleistocene. We have evolved, damn it! Is slapping out extra base hits, even rarely, (and nobody does rarely like the Giants)truly a reflection of the Enlightenment? What sort of character flaw festers in me that makes me want the Giants to score more runs than the barbarians. I am not a glutton, though sloth may indeed apply. Score more runs two out of three, three out of four times and I am one happy cave dweller.

Apparently, the Giants are in possession of some entity referred to as a bullpen. Future archaeologists may postulate that these bullpen folks emerged as foragers intent on saving things but I am guessing they won't find much evidence to support that wacky theory.

I think Mr. Oop sums it up best.

"Starting pitching, good"
"Offense, bad"
"Bullpen?"

Whither Freddy?

Cruelly felled by the now chic oblique strain, the rest of Freddy's season is in doubt. Verily, the rest of his career may be teetering on the abyss. Or not. EMS cannot and will not predict the future though we will offer easily deniable and hardly plausible guesses. Does Freddy have a future? Lets examine some earlier beta versions of the fast as hell, though slappy hitting prototype. For the sake of clarity we will refer to these previous releases as Winn and Roberts.

Bouncing back and forth like Pong between the minors and the big club in Tampa*, Winn logged 800 semi sporadic ab's in the three seasons after debuting as a 23/4 year old in 1998. When he emerged as a regular Devil Ray (Though I imagine most Devil Rays prefer to think of themselves as special Devil Rays) in 2001 he was pushing 27. He posted modest but respectable numbers. His ops was .740. By 2002 he became the player he is now. He is good enough, or his agent is good enough to be playing under a nice 3 year deal for millions of clams. Still, after 800 ab's Winn's career ops was under 700. From humble beginnings, yada yada yada...

Speaking of humble, Roberts was damn near invisible in his 20's. He popped up in Cleveland when he was 27 posting a forgettable ops of .589 in 143 ab's. After that he spent an extended sabbatical in Palookaville before becoming a semi regular, as some sort of penance, I suppose, with the Dog Poopies at age 30. He has proudly not hit much ever since but his one parlor trick has convinced Sabes that he simply must give him several million bucks and he must do it now.

Freddy's small sample size legacy doesn't appear to be a whole lot different in scope and range to both Winn and Roberts. I don't know how much scope Freddy has but he does possess good range. That is a bonus because he takes really weird routes toward fly balls. Anyhoo, Freddy clocks in with a .739 career ops total after his initial 101 official ab's. Can't tell much from that, can we? Winn is a steady big league performer and he's at .767. Roberts quietly chips in at .711. That the Giants have essentially three different versions of the same model can't be tossed off as coincidence. There is a plan, man..

* We know that referring to the Tampa Bay Devil Rays as a big league team stretches credulity like spandex on Livan, but if we are going to claim the same distinction for the 07 Giants we have to be flexible with our standards.

Thank You

Just wanted to take a moment to thank some folks. In no particular order:

When I first started my little meanderings here, I Googled my site every few days to see if it would show up. It took awhile but my first hit showed a nice comment from Big D over at Giants Win. I don't want to admit that I am needy, well maybe a little needy, but that was some sweet reinforcement. Thank you, sir.

When I first discovered the blogosphere and found there were actually people out there writing about baseball and the Giants, John Perricone was the writer I went to everyday. I started citing things he said to win arguments. He is one of the guys who got the baseball/Giants genre going. That he chose to link my little 'messays' is very cool. Thank you, John.

Martin Lee of ObsessiveGiantsCompulsive is a writer who really thinks about this game. I love his stuff. He never rips me when I try to go highbrow and analytical. Thank you, Martin.

El Lefty Malo might just be the hippest hipster in the Giants Blog Canon. He patiently took the time to explain some blog etiquette to a rube from Reno. Thank you, Lefty.

Grant..What can I say. He is the snark master and one of the funniest people I have ever read. Despite the fact that I shamelessly rip off his style, he was gracious enough to add me to his blog roll. How cool is that? Thank you, Grant.

Thank you to all the folks who comment on my stuff. It is wildly appreciated.

Lastly, a big group hug to my brethren and sisteren over at the New Cafe Giants message board. Misery loves company and you guys are great company. Thank you for not holding this place against me.

Draft Day

So today is the big day. The staff and I will be glued to our vast array of monitors carefully tracking a bunch of guys I have never heard of. Oh, I have sort of heard of a few of these fellows. I think Beau Mills used to play for Fresno State before transferring for "academic reasons." This may indicate that Mills is extremely focused. It can't be easy to flunk out of Fresno State. This kid had to work for it. However, if he gets drafted by the Giants and goes on to be a regular 30 homerun guy I am going to see to it he gets an Honorary Degree from Harvard.

Unfortunately, it appears as though the Giants are going to continue their pattern of drafting every college pitcher in the land. At least that's what the pundits seem to think. One of the junior staffers around here added the caveat that the Giants only draft college pitchers who are the cheapest to sign. Needless to say, I fired the whippersnapper on the spot. Our philosophy at EMS clearly states that grasping for straws is not only good policy it is essential to the growth of strong healthy bones. I will fearlessly cling to my dream that the Giants will draft and develop some stud position players. I will, I will!... and you can't stop me.

Useless Filler for a Wednesday

I was more than a little intrigued by Bochy's statement that Bonds was available for pinch hitting in the 9th and that they considered using him but went with Alfonzo instead. He said Alfonzo has been swinging the bat well lately. What???

I realize Bonds is hurting but he is always a better option than Alfonzo, isn't he? If he was truly available, which has to be called into question, a Bonds ab may well have netted something useful. The most likely scenario is a Bonds walk. Okay, you bring in Freddy to run and the inning turns over to Winn. Not the worst outcome. Bonds could have hit a homerun. He does that sort of thing, you know. Again, not a bad outcome. He could have made an out too. But at least you are providing a better chance for a baserunner than what Eliezer provides. I know Eliezer. Eliezer is a friend of mine. But Eliezer, you are no Barry Bonds.

Speaking of Bonds, how about a little thinking not only way out of the box but all the way out of the plant where the box was manufactured. Let's go back to tree level. The Giants have 105 or so games left. Why not just schedule Bonds to start every other game? You would get him 50 more times in the starting nine and he would have 36 to 48 hours, or more to recuperate after every game he plays. He should be able to get the necessary number of jacks he needs to pass Aaron in 50 games. It would keep him fresher and give the Giants a chance to see what they may or may not have in Lewis and Ortmeier.

Of course, knowing Bonds is not in the lineup on a given game will likely put a damper on the gate and the evil Mags can't be having any of that. Sure, it's clear the staff here was particularly drunk when they came up with this hare brained (and isn't that more than a little demeaning to rabbits) notion but we are all about the adrenaline rush here at EMS.

Is it Krukow's Fault?

I say no. Sure he is a homer who is loathe to criticize ballplayers. To be certain, he looks for the bright and sunny flowers in the field of decay every chance he gets. This doesn't make him the bad guy of the piece. The Giants front office has villains o-plenty.

Still, Krukow gets a lot of world weary tsk tsking amongst the true bluers for not speaking truth to power (or is it proof to tower?)as the cliche goes. I revel in my lack of logical thinking but I am unable to grasp the connection between bad mouthing the paycheck signers and believing that if only Krulow would speak up the Giants would suddenly change their pernicious modus operandi. Does Krukow actually have this sort of power and would he truly only use it for good? As any respectable fanboy will tell you, super heroes usually have to dance that delicate ballet of responsibility; either helping out the good folks of Gotham and Metropolis or getting sideways with winsome and easy Eurobabes. I know which way my sword of justice would be heading.

Cyberspace is roomy but I am not sure even this vast expanse has adequate volume to house a list of the problems the Giants experience daily. It's a sad litany of remorse and confusion. It's the "World's Largest Ball of String" of Gordian Knots. It's gone beyond human comprehension. Krukow is just a minute, though thankfully, happy go lucky quark in this implacable punch list of bad design.

I am bitter enough on my own, thank you very much. I don't need Krukow to give voice to my horror. He doesn't have to be my champion.

The Giants Tend to Hack..

The lads in the Orange & Black, apparently in response to Ted Robinson's elitist and incessant charge that baseball games are too long, pretty much swing away every chance they get. Other than Bonds and to a far lesser extent, Durham and Klesko, these guys have exorcised the passive from the passive/aggressive paradigm; any thing to get that game in under 2 1/2 hours.

52 games in, 155 walks. 54 of those lovely and offense enhancing free passes come from Bonds alone. That means that the other 25 guys who have flailed away senselessly for the Giants this season have chipped in for 101 walks. If we eliminate the 3 relievers who have amassed 3 ab's this year then 22 guys have conspired to to keep those base paths in their pristine pre game state.

Durham and Klesko, in age and infirmary limited ab's, have combined for 27 of those 101 walks. Eliminating the ab's by the starting rotation seems fair. Those guys have suffered enough from the Giants refusing to take walks and the pen refusing to strike anybody out. That leaves 15 Ronco Hackmasters fighting every urge to swing, swing, swing for those paltry 74 walks.

That averages out to 7 walks per hacker or about 1 walk every 7 games or so. There may be some sort of insidious force at work here. How else can you explain a normally dependable guy like Winn eking out fewer base on balls in more ab's than Feliz! That may happen in the universe where Spock has a goatee but it can't possibly be true in this final frontier. Can it?