I'm back. Whew. Driving home from the airport late Friday night, I rolled down the window and inhaled cool moist salty air rolling eastward from Ocean Beach. I needed that.
The night before, on a windless muggy East Coast night, I was following Thursday's Cubs-Giants game on my corporate-issued BlackMamba, and I was thrilled as a Maryland peach when Bowker hit the in play (no out) home run to right field to put the Giants up 2-1. One late-night shower later, I plopped onto the bed and readied myself for ESPN highlights. Lo, suddenly the Baseball Tonight in-game alert came through with Jeff Baker's ninth-inning ding-dong off Brian Wilson. How did he hit that pitch? Was it even a strike? I haven't dared go back to look at the gameday archives. I prefer to think it was a freak of circumstance, a guy hitting a 98-MPH fastball up above his hands, exactly where the pitcher wanted it except the one-in-a-thousand I'm going to close my eyes and swing approach actually worked this time. That's what I'm telling myself.
Now our greatest task is to watch Buster Posey for signs of adjustments, for flashes of talent that we hope will blossom next year, for glimmers of evidence that he can run a pitching staff fresh out of spring training. It's a tall task, let's be honest, and the Giants may make some tough choices if they want to compete next year. Knowing the Giants, they're going to base their decision next spring in large part on Posey's performance in these final 10 games, which is absurd, but we have no choice but follow along. Remember this: It's not the mistakes, it's what he learns from them. I didn't see last night or tonight's game, so any scouting reports are most welcome.
I also admit I won't mind at all if the Braves overtake the Rockies in the wild card. I'm shocked at this feeling, a mixture of titillation, shame and nausea. There's nothing worse than listening to the far-less-than-sold-out Atlanta crowd chant their fake war cry over a tinny Casio-sounding electronic drumbeat during a playoff game. Is there any more embarrassing team-sanctioned mass behavior in all of American sports? Still, the Rockies are not and never will be a legitimate baseball team as long as they play at a goofed-up altitude that requires extra-curricular ball doctoring and an extra large outfield; the purple sleeveless tops and gray pinstriped pants don't help, either. Are you butlers? California raisins? Baseball players? Stop torturing us, and keep that Seth Smith guy away from our daughters. He smiles and says he's "only pinch-hitting," but we know the deal. Go Braves. (Yuck.)
As I mentioned earlier this week, I will stay disciplined and wait til the Giants' season ends before passing final judgment on Brian Sabean and Bruce Bochy, but that won't keep me from announcing my rooting interests in the playoffs. In the National, I can imagine worse than the Phils repeating as league champs, especially if they humiliate the Dodgers on their way, as they did last year.
In the American, whoever wins the Central will be my rooting favorite. Unlike many I harbor no animus against the Red Sox, but they've had their shot this decade. Truth is, as long as the Yankees don't steamroll their way into the Series, I'll be happy. Go Tigers (slight advantage because of the salty chain-smoking Jim Leyland).
Weekend question: What Giants-related development or event in the final week would add a green sprig of optimism to your autumn leaf piles?
