That's Duane Kuiper's new signature line. I love it, especially delivered in his Wisconsinite smoker's deadpan, but it's a bit disingenuous, as most teams torture their fans with a good dose of cliffhangers and dashed expectations every season. The Giants are not unique.
But today's game certainly helped reinforce Kuiper's preconceived notions. I was stuck in nasty Civic Center traffic coming home from a paddle on Mission Creek (more on this later), and Kaz Matsui was fouling off fastball after fastball, my hands gripped more and more tightly on the steering wheel. Inching forward half a block every few minutes, I was glad I didn't have to make any sudden moves or directional decisions. The pitch count rose: ten, eleven, twelve...all fastballs, all with the bases loaded and a full count. One errant pitch, and Matsui would take a walk, the tying run would score, and the bullpen would lose a Lincecum lead for the fourth straight game.
That Matsui couldn't square up a single pitch, knowing full well what was coming, was amazing; that Wilson could keep throwing strikes or near-strikes under that pressure, even more amazing. What would happen if Wilson ever develops confidence in an off-speed pitch? Learns a straight change?
I thought back to other classic at-bats. How about this one: Bonds v. Gagne in April 2004, when Gagne was blowing triple-digit cheese, and Bonds pulled one in the water about thirty feet foul before hitting one out. Gagne, not normally one to wax rhapsodic, said this: "That was my best time in baseball there. He's the best ever."
Here's a little paddle preview:
But today's game certainly helped reinforce Kuiper's preconceived notions. I was stuck in nasty Civic Center traffic coming home from a paddle on Mission Creek (more on this later), and Kaz Matsui was fouling off fastball after fastball, my hands gripped more and more tightly on the steering wheel. Inching forward half a block every few minutes, I was glad I didn't have to make any sudden moves or directional decisions. The pitch count rose: ten, eleven, twelve...all fastballs, all with the bases loaded and a full count. One errant pitch, and Matsui would take a walk, the tying run would score, and the bullpen would lose a Lincecum lead for the fourth straight game.
That Matsui couldn't square up a single pitch, knowing full well what was coming, was amazing; that Wilson could keep throwing strikes or near-strikes under that pressure, even more amazing. What would happen if Wilson ever develops confidence in an off-speed pitch? Learns a straight change?
I thought back to other classic at-bats. How about this one: Bonds v. Gagne in April 2004, when Gagne was blowing triple-digit cheese, and Bonds pulled one in the water about thirty feet foul before hitting one out. Gagne, not normally one to wax rhapsodic, said this: "That was my best time in baseball there. He's the best ever."
Here's a little paddle preview:
