Giants Lose, Universe Continues to Make No Sense
Well. That was weird. Tim Lincecum got lit up in the Coors-iest Coors game that ever did Coors. The Giants briefly overcame a six run deficit. Brandon Belt was benched twice in one game. Brett Pill’s two errors in one play reduced the official scorer to weeping pile of jelly. And most importantly, our much-lauded pitching staff once again didn’t earn their lauds, making this day two of the dystopian fugue state that is Barry Zito assuming the mantle of “ace.”
There were some bright spots to be taken from this game though. Melky Cabrera is really making us not miss Jonathan Sanchez, Nate Schierholtz continued to hit home runs at Coors Field like it was his job or something, Pablo Sandoval is still awesome, and Buster Posey is almost de-shingle-fied. Really though, Bruce Bochy continues to make no damn sense.
Point in case: the first double-switch of the game saw Brandon Belt make an appearance in the third inning. After two at-bats where he looked positively functional, he was double-switched out on the same boat he came in on for none other than error-machine Brett Pill. Then the Rockies scored somewhere around 30,000 more runs and the game was effectively over.
But the real weird didn’t come about until Ramon Hernandez singled up the middle with two men aboard in the fifth inning. If you were keeping score at home, the play went at as follows: 1B, 8-E3-2-1-5-E3-5-6. Translated from scorebook speak: single, throw by center-fielder, deflected by first baseman for an error, recovered by the catcher, baserunner caught in rundown, throw to pitcher, throw to third baseman, throw to catcher deflected by first baseman for error, recovered by third baseman, throw to shortstop at third base, hitter safe at third base. Annnd breathe. Everyone got all that? Good, because in attempting to figure all that out MLB Gameday went up in flames trying to decipher the Yakety-Sax of it all.
And that was only the first half of the game. What followed was something of a bloodbath, and not the good kind. Because there’s totally a good kind. But for now, we can take solace in the fact that it’s still very, very early. We’re only five games in with plenty more to play and the Giants are turning my sense of reality upside down. At this point I’m not sure what to believe in anymore, be it a higher power or Tim Lincecum’s Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol haircut.
For now there’s not a whole lot more to do but to hope that tomorrow is the day that our pitchers remember that they are in fact really really good at the game of baseball. It’s either that or we start to construct darkly disturbing hypotheticals where our pitching staff fails to meet our lofty expectations, and quite frankly my delicate psyche can’t handle that kind of stress.