by Gregg Pearlman
Saturday, May 1, 1999
The Giants, until running into a buzz saw last night at Shea Stadium, had been acquitting themselves pretty well in Barry Bonds' absence, taking three of four from the Rockies and sweeping the Expos. Granted, it's not as though they blew through the 1927 Yankees and, well, the 1998 Yankees, but a win is a win is a win. Doesn't matter who you get 'em against, as long as you get 'em.
Last night, though, they couldn't hit former Giants pitcher Allen Watson. Today, through six, they can't hit former Giants pitcher Orel Hershiser. These are pretty bitter pills, at least for me, and especially today. I tried to cut Hershiser as much slack as possible, once he really was on the team, but when you legitimately dislike a player -- for whatever reasons -- it's awfully hard for the player to enter your good graces, and Hershiser never quite did. It's making me nuts that the Giants are doing so poorly and that he's gotten out of some nasty jams. He won't come out for the seventh, which might be even worse news.
Meanwhile, Chris Brock hasn't pitched badly, but he's still down 3-2 and has thrown over a hundred pitches through six, which is how you know he's a San Francisco Giant. At least he's down 3-2 for the moment: The Mets have two on with two out, and Luis Lopez the hitter -- one of these generic middle infielders who always seem to kill the Giants. And just as I type this, Lopez drops a single into left on an ankle-high pitch, and the Giants are down 4-2. Thanks, life. That's the Mets' third two-out, run-scoring hit today. And oh, joy, Jerry Spradlin's up and throwing in the bullpen.
Nope, not anymore. I didn't catch the name of the pinch-hitter for Hershiser, but Brock just hit him in the back, and now Spradlin's in there. Earlier, Hershiser hit Aurilia in the back, but there's no way this would've been retaliatory, given the situation.
Spradlin's a monster of a guy, standing 6'8", or so I've read. This is his second appearance for Our Boys -- in his first, he threw two hitless innings against Montreal, walking one. This time, however, he's coming in with the bases loaded. He's described as a power pitcher, which I suspect means "pitcher who helps the batter show off his power." He's also known to walk the occasional hitter. His first pitch to Roger Cedeño is low, but his second is rocketed to deep center field... where Marvin Benard runs it down. And to the seventh we go, down by a pair.
At least the Giants will be neither no-hit nor shut out by Orel Hershiser today. Early on, a one-out base hit to left by Rich Aurilia scored Charlie Hayes from second. Matt Franco's throw had Hayes by 10 feet; it bounced once or twice, and Todd Pratt (in his last start ever, subbing for Piazza) had the ball with room to spare... and just never turned to tag Hayes. Like he forgot or something. Actually, he threw a shoulder at Hayes, but didn't tag him with the ball or the glove.
Mike Krukow -- and this actually ticked me off a little -- remarked on how much "guts" Mark Wegner, the home plate umpire, had for making the correct call. My thought was, "Yeah, he's a new umpire, so he hasn't gotten with the program yet. He'll get a nasty lecture from the crew chief after the game: 'Look, babe, he had the ball in plenty of time, so the guy's out.'" As penance, they're gonna make this umpire call the next sixty-three Giants' opponents safe on tag plays, even if they're palpably tagged 45 feet from any given base. (You might remember this happening last year: Jeff Kent very obviously, ostentatiously, dust-raisingly, unquestionably, tagged a Marlins runner between first and second in the ninth, and the guy was called safe. Led to a blown save for Robb Nen, and extra innings.)
With runners at the corners, Brock was up next -- Aurilia's batting eighth today, as he's missed some games lately with a groin pull, and Dusty's hiding him low in the order -- and hit a slow grounder toward Edgardo Alfonzo at second. It really should've been a double play, but Alfonzo screwed it up. Aurilia stopped en route to second, and Alfonzo kind of went, "Wih... weh... wha...?" and threw the ball to first. The run scored, the Giants took the lead. Alfonzo didn't even try to tag Aurilia or throw to second. If he'd done either of these things, he almost certainly would've turned a double play.
Brock gave up a one-out walk to Brian McRae, and just when he looked as though his control was escaping, he struck out the next guy (Pratt? Not sure.) on a curve. McRae was running, but evidently his jump was so bad that, despite the pitch, he stopped halfway between first and second and got caught in a brief rundown... which ended in a successful tag play. (Since the home plate umpire had nothing to do with the call, we can safely say that his penance hasn't started yet.)
Armando Rios was thrown out stealing later in the inning, and it really wasn't close. (This would be due to my having Earnestly Ragged Todd Pratt above. My apologies.) And, strangely, Pratt was called out on a tag play at second, though he appeared to get a hand on the bag before the tag. The guy who threw him out? Rios.
He's facing Josias Manzanillo with one out, and the 3-2 pitch is swung on and missed. Ellis Burks, who really hasn't stepped up much with no Barry Bonds around, also struck out. So did Marvin Benard, who led off the inning. The towel looks like it's being tossed in.
(By the way, Jon Miller has informed today's viewing audience that Manzanillo is one of 11 kids, and their father is 93 years old. Somewhere in there, I wonder if there's an offspring who's 60 years older than one of his or her siblings.)
Participants today include John G., Paul, Jonathan, Greg L., Tim I., Jon R., Richard, Mr. Crud, Carlos, Ben F., John B., Sean, Ethan, fungile, Ken K., Jason, Andrew K., Jack V., Brian I., Anson, Todd R., J.Y., Gunman, Randy, Jon O., Charley, Seth, Marie, and David M.
"I know this goes against history, the Giants' San Francisco history, and most of all, the Baseball Gods, but I hereby thumb my nose at them and taunt them, defiantly daring them to do something to Our Boys. What are they gonna do? Knock Barry Bonds out for 10 weeks with an injury? Already done."
True enough... but I've seen people shake their fists at the Baseball Gods before, and it's about as effective as trying to do something about the weather. (Which reminds me, by the way, that M. Emmett Walsh mentioned those very Baseball Gods on last Sunday's episode of The X-Files. This tells me that David Duchovny, who wrote it, reads the Giants newsgroup.)
"And if the current string of good starts by Nathan, Ortiz, Estes, and Brock is a mirage, and the Giants sink into mediocrity or worse, and the reality of Bonds' loss sets in and the Giants go into a deep funk and the Dodgers win the pennant, well I don't care," John says. "That's what I figured was going to happen anyway when Bonds was hurt, and at least I've had this one glorious moment.
"It feels good to tell the Gods to take a hike. Bring it on, Gods. Do your worst."
Goodness, John. You're just challenging them, you know. Every time we think we've seen their worst....
"Thanks," replies Paul. "Thanks a lot. Well, when I (metaphorically) open the paper tomorrow and see that Jason Grilli, Scott Linebrink, Steve Soderstrom, and Nathan Bump have been traded for Bobby Ayala, Tony Fossas, Mark Wohlers, and Heathcliff Slocumb, because gosh darn it, our bullpen needs beefing up, and we have the money to spare, I'll know who to blame."
(We can probably blame John for what just happened in the game, which is that Jerry Spradlin failed to field a one-bounce comebacker, which almost certainly would've resulted in an inning-ending double play. The ball went off his bare hand, evidently. Spradlin says he's okay, but we'll see. There are two outs, with runners on first and second, and Spradlin's facing Jermaine Allensworth, who came in on a double-switch last inning. He's 2-for-25 on the season, which is a huge concern, especially as the count is 0-2. Now 1-2. Allensworth has just singled to left, loading the bases for Brian McRae.
And guess what? McRae just hit a grand slam. Nice job, Sprad: Can't field, can't pitch. A double-play that isn't. A line-single surrendered to an .080 hitter. And now a grand slam -- for McRae's fourth through seventh RBIs of the year. It's 8-2. Good Lord.
Luis Lopez is hit on the foot by a pitch, and Manzanillo slaps his first major league base hit through the hole on the right side. Cedeño pokes one up the middle, which Aurilia grabs behind second base, and his throw pops out of Jeff Kent's glove (for a hit, according to the official scorer). The bases are loaded, again, and this time for Alfonzo, who already has a home run today.)
With Fernando Tatis of the Cardinals having hit two of grand slams in the same inning a couple weeks ago -- this had never been done before, and I'm so pleased that the victim of both slams was Chan Ho Park of the Dodgers, because he's a Dodger -- the feat of two grand slams in an inning has been accomplished only 10 times by teams over the years, and here we have a prime chance for number eleven. However, Alfonzo has just topped a grounder up the third-base line that was grabbed by Hayes as he stomped on the bag to finally retire the side. In a word: EEEEEE!)
Jonathan, on this occasion, won't suffer my pessimism gladly. He says, "Of course, Gregg is the man who is currently defending a (presumably) made up seven-RBI inning by Von Hayes vs. the Giants (which turned out to be five RBI, against someone else)." The Mets, as it turns out.
I said I really didn't think so, and I still don't, even though SABR's The Home Run Encyclopedia. Why would I remember it if it happened against someone who wasn't the Giants and ergo irrelevant? All I can think of is, I have a strong memory of Hank Greenwald (or maybe it was Ron Fairly... maybe it's not all that strong a memory) describing an inning in which Hayes hit a grand slam and a bases-loaded triple in an inning against the Giants. I'm not sure if what's in my mind is the live play-by-play description, or merely an account... but it doesn't show up in the SABR book, and no one else corroborates this memory, so I have to assume I'm just plain wrong. It's just that my ears are convinced they heard this, and clearly there's a conspiracy throughout all of humanity to discredit me on this issue, one in which I am the lone voice of reason, crying out in darkness....
"I sort of wonder whether Gregg remembers the time when Nomo no-hit the Giants at Coors Field," says Jonathan.
Good question. No -- but I do remember when Terry Mulholland, Kevin Gross, and Charlie Lea combined to no-hit the Giants at Coors Field.
"I remember that!" adds Greg L. "That was the year the Rockies won the World Series. Didn't they trade for a bunch of young reliable $1 million pitchers that year?"
No, no, they didn't win it all -- just the pennant. The Giants beat 'em in the Series.
Replying to John, Jonathan says, "Anyway, here's my sensible thought for the day: [Sounding the word out, bemusedly, a la Duckman: "Sen... si... ble"? -- GP] A superstar for a year is worth, say, 7 to 10 wins, at the most. So, losing Bonds for half a season costs, at most, five wins. That's a big hit, but, on the other hand, it's easy to get carried away."
What's still amazing to me is how the Giants went into the tank after losing Glenallen Hill.
"Yes," says Jonathan, "but remember that us humans are wired to see cause and effect, whether or not it's really there."
To quote Jim Bouton (more or less): "I can't remember what it's called in logic, but the fallacy is, 'B follows A, therefore A caused B.'"
Jonathan continues: "I never listen to the KNBR morning show, but before I could switch the radio off this morning, I'm pretty sure I heard some garbage about how much it was helping to have Barry hurt."
"Funny," says Greg, "I wouldn't listen to morning radio if it was guaranteed money in my pocket [Ooo, I would. -- GP], but I happened to have Radnich on this morning on the off chance I might catch him saying that. I'm sorry I missed it. Makes perfect sense, though."
That is, it makes perfect sense that Radnich, an avowed Bonds hater, would say that.
I'm really gonna have to start listening to books on tape again during drive time.
"Bonds was really dragging down our pitching staff and it was only by him hurting his selfish ass that the pitching staff could improve," Greg says, mockingly (and I hope the "mockingly" part is obvious).
That must be it. What kind of "superstar" walks all the time? Oh, and aren't you sick of hearing about "positioning"?
"In one sense," says Tim I., "I think this would be the worst season for the Giants to kick butt like that, because it would give the Bonds-bashers a lot of ammo (as in 'Who needs him?') But if the Baseball Gods do hose the Giants now, at least those people who say the Giants will be better off without Bonds may have to shut up for a few moments."
Oh, and I love this: Dusty Baker has put in lefty Alan Embree, who hasn't pitched since Sunday, to start the eighth, because the first two Mets batters, Olerud and Robin Ventura, are lefthanded. Olerud has just walked on four pitches -- none even close -- and it's 2-0 on Ventura, after a wild pitch. And to third he goes, after a medium-deep fly ball. Right now, Rios is the only outfielder on the team with anything like a decent arm. Other teams have Sammy Sosa, Raul Mondesi, and Andrew Jones out there.
And a base hit by Allensworth, whose batting average has risen 68 points today, to .148, makes it 9-4 Mets.
Charlie Hayes throws a ground ball into right field, which isn't where second base is. Allensworth -- and I guess we're lucky -- remains at second. Blarr.
I've kind of missed some action while typing some of the stuff below, but the Mets now have the bases loaded with two outs. And -- boundless joy! -- Bobby Bonilla is pinch-hitting for Manzanillo, bringing his .157 batting average to the plate. But looky here! He pops up the first pitch to Snow, and we're out of the jam! We're only down five! O frabjuous day!
"Another fine starting pitching effort from William Van Estes," says Jon R.
"Well, in fairness, he did look much better after the first," says Richard. "I have blasted him as much as anyone recently, but it does seem like he is starting to get his act a little more together.
"I really liked the idea that Dusty left him out there. I got the sense that he might have given up 10 runs before Dusty let him off the hook tonight, and for some reason that felt like a good idea to me. (I'm not sure why; I would almost never manage my own employees by letting them take a beating like that in a work setting. I think it's because I feel Estes needs to take his lumps and hopefully get stronger from them.)"
"But why would you need to ever let your employees 'take a beating' like that?" says Tim. "It's not like you have to worry about how rested your bullpen is."
"He's been pulling this crap too long, too often," says Mr. Crud of Estes. "Walks, balk, balls in the dirt. He's got great talent, but he's not nearly [consistent enough for the major-league level."
"Yeah, but that balk was a crap call," says Tim.
Almost a given, since it was made by Bob Davidson. I'm not sure if that guy ever had it, but it he did, he's losing it. (This is the same guy who, two years ago, didn't signal an infield fly on a popup to center until it nearly hit the ground. His indecision led to two Giants baserunners to be caught off base, for a triple play. I don't know how high Davidson ranked in the players' umpire poll, but I don't see how it could've been very high, unless a lot of other umpires somehow manage to be even worse.)
"Even the Mets' broadcasters said the balk call was bogus," says Carlos. "In the long run, though, Estes is too easy to shake up. He'll still give us some good games, but he doesn't look like he is anywhere near turning a corner in the brain scan department."
"Well, that's still true," says Tim. "If you're going to make it as a major league pitcher, you have to be able to shake that stuff off and not let it get to you too much. It may have been another crap call from Balkin' Bob Davidson, but still, it's Estes' fault that it shook him up for at least the rest of the inning."
"Estes to me is turning out to be just a .500 pitcher," says Ben F. "Every outing it seems like he gives us a 'Tavarez' inning: walk, single, walk, walk, strikeout, strikeout, single, walk, single, fly ball. If he could just cut down his walks he would be okay. Are batters laying off his curveball? Sounds like he is throwing so many during the game, and most for balls."
Tim says, "When Estes is getting that wicked curveball over for strikes, he looks like he has Hall of Fame stuff sometimes. When he can't, though, it's like Hideo Nomo II -- hitters lay off the breaking pitches and sit on the fastball. Then they either walk or rip the hell out of the ball."
"Yeah, he kinda reminds me of Salomon Torres and Atlee Hammaker: 'I think, therefore I stink,'" says Bubba, voicing something I think we're all thinking, but which most of us are afraid to say. "I wish he would just pitch and leave the thinking to Dusty and Ron. Hopefully, Estes is smarter than Torres and Hammaker and can get over this handicap.
"My concern, moreso than Estes, is Tavarez, who, incidentally, had another 'fine' outing. This leaves an interesting prospect: Once Gardner comes off the DL, trade Tavarez for... well, anything, and move Estes to the pen until he gets his shit together. Or would this make for another Salomon Torres? Hmmm."
In happier times, namely Thursday, the Giants beat Montreal despite committing six errors, including a throwing error on a pickoff attempt by Robb Nen in the ninth. John B. says, "Last night would've been the perfect time to let the man rest. Had it not been for four errors and Tavarez prior to the ninth, maybe Nen could have rested."
"Shouldn't putting in Tavarez also be counted as an error?" says Paul.
Good thing the Giants were on the road, because one suspects that a six-error performance (or maybe just an appearance by Tavarez) would induce deafening boos from the home crowd. In fact, said home crowd has been plenty vocal so far, and last weekend the San Jose Mercury said that Charlie Hayes "needed to block out the negative reaction from the fans after the walks in the third.
"'We were coming off the field in the third, and Shawn said, "I walk one guy, and they boo me,"'' Hayes said. 'I told him, "Dude, you're the best pitcher on the field. And you got to think that. Just pick your target up and throw to it."'
"'At home, everyone's got to be for you. That's what we want here. We're short-handed. But that's no reason to write it off.'"
"The above stirred up a question that's been bugging me for the past several years," says John: "When is it right for Giants fans to boo a Giant? Is it ever right?
"Personally, I've always thought that booing your own team should pretty much be reserved only for egregious lapses in effort. Such lapses can be physical -- not running out a ground ball, or mental -- forgetting how many outs there are."
I've said this before, but for a long time now, I haven't booed ballplayers, on the premise that I wouldn't want them coming down to my place of business and booing my work. (As if they'd make the effort....) Instead I just curse and moan.
"And use lots and lots of vowels," says Tim, who's actually heard me yell "EEEEEE!" during a ballgame. (Yes, I really do that.) "I see your point, though: 'Ha! That code has a potential divide-by-zero error in it and he's claiming it's ready for production! BOOOOOO!'
"'Hey -- he told the customer to recover the database incorrectly and it's going to result in an unrecoverable mission-critical database! BOOOOOOOOOO!'"
Or, in my case, "Hey, he forgot to use a hyphen with a unit modifier! BOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The other side of that coin is, when I was on the magazine, I got a rather scathing letter (written by an idiot, naturally) about one of my articles. I suggested that he shouldn't be so critical of my writing if he didn't want me coming down to the Safeway and booing his bagging. Not the kindest or most mature response, which tells me that if I took criticism that way, the players can't like it much either.
"That said, I don't think I've ever actually booed a Giant," says John. "I'm sure I've said things like 'YOU IDIOT, LEMASTER!,' and 'WHY DID WE EVER TRADE FOR THIS LOSER, DELUCIA?,' and 'OH THIS DAVID GREEN IS ONE FINE BALLPLAYER!' But I have a hard time bringing myself to actually boo a Giant."
I think I reached my decision at that Fan Appreciation Day in 1986. I had gotten into the habit of calling Greg Minton "Moonmanyouasshole," and in the last inning I yelled that at the top of my lungs, from a lower box seat -- just as the crowd settled into complete silence. Some people laughed, some stared at me like I'd grown an extra eye. I felt embarrassed, and frankly, I hoped Minton hadn't heard me. Decided to be, well, less rude in the future.
John says, "I always figured that all Giants fans were kind of like me on this issue, but I've noticed with guys like Jeff Brantley, William Van Landingham (who I thought deserved to be booed), Glenallen Hill, and Shawn Estes, that this is not the case.
"I do think Giants fans are less likely to boo their own than fans of other teams. On the booing spectrum, we probably fall somewhere between what I consider the extreme -- the Philadelphia Phillies fan, and the Los Angeles Dodgers fan."
Probably true. For the most part, I've noticed that booing at the 'Stick is mostly reserved for anything Dodger related, umpires, Michael Bolton, bad calls, good or bad plays by opposing players (especially particularly hated ones), beachballs, and things some idiot fans do, like run onto the field.
"Yes," says Tim, "because like antimatter and matter, there are things Dodger and anti-Dodger. Don't let them touch, don't get them wet, and don't feed them after midnight."
Better yet: Just stomp on them till they make that satisfying crunching noise and that pain-ridden little squeal.
John B. says, "Things that might cause a Philadelphia Phillie fan to boo:
John left out "Anything at all."
Sean says, "A guy once fell from the upper deck at Veterans Stadium, and was booed loudly by the crowd when he tried to get up."
"To the typical Dodger fan, however, booing a Dodger is a completely foreign concept."
I'd never really thought about this. Maybe it's because most of the bad or annoying things happen before the third inning or after the seventh. "In fact, booing anything that actually takes place in a baseball game is foreign, to Dodger fans. Dodger fans seem too caught up in the joys of doing 'The Wave' and batting beachballs around to get all hot and bothered about anything that may be taking place on the actual field of play."
Which, I guess, is why these things are (rightly) booed at Candlestick.
"The only time I've seen Dodger fans boo is when some poor pathetic Dodger usher, in his double-knit slacks and plastic 'straw hat,' is able to chase down one of those beachballs and confiscate it.
"Not true," says Ethan. "They really let Piazza have it after his contract squabble with management went public. Ironically, he went right out and hit two grand slams, and they traded him anyway."
"Anyway," John says, "what's the consensus on Giants fans booing their own?"
I don't really like to hear it, but I like it even less when the players (or Dusty) complain about it. However, I'll always remember with some fondness the time they booed Al Oliver in his first post-Giants game at the 'Stick.
"I personally have, in the past, booed people who I think have no right to be on the team -- Morman, Joe Carter, et al. (and have felt slightly guilty about it)," says Paul. "I would never dream of booing someone who I want to see succeed, however."
Ethan says, "Well, we gave Beck the business when he let LA load the bases with nobody out in the 11th. that was some really loud booing. We know how that ended up." He's talking about the Brian Johnson Game on September 18, 1997.
"I boo opposing players and managers much more often, but I do boo poor performances in important situations by Giants occasionally," says John G. "Usually, I reserve it for players who I don't think are good, and thus, in my mind, don't belong on the team. Thus, you'd never hear me boo Bonds, for example.
"I admit to being one of those that booed Rod Beck when he loaded the bases with no outs in the 11th inning of that late-season Dodger game in 1997 (which he got out of, to wild applause). You must recall that Beck had blown a ninth-inning lead [and the ballgame] in Atlanta on a homer to McGriff a few nights before. I had serious doubts about Beck at that point. As was plain to many, he was succeeding mainly on guts and guile. And I wasn't sorry he wasn't re-signed after the season."
Ben F. says, I have only booed Marked Gardner (in 1997 vs. the Astros, when he did not finished the first inning), Johnnie DiSaster, and Crazy Crab while at the park. In front of the TV I have used words not suitable for human beings."
"I don't agree with booing our own players unless it is clear that he is not putting his heart into the game," says fungile. "I especially dislike booing our young players because I want them to succeed. Imagine how you'd feel if you get booed when you're struggling but you're playing your heart out. I don't know what Hayes was thinking when he gave reporters that quote; obviously it created an embarrassing situation for Estes (and probably more ammo for those who booed)."
"Good point," says Tim. "There's a difference between guys who are trying and botch something (which I don't like but can accept as long as they learn from it) and guys who don't give a damn. The latter deserve to be booed, though I don't think I've done that to a Giant. I'm thinking of someone like Joe Barry Carroll (aka 'Joe Barely Cares') when the Warriors wasted an overall number-one pick on him.
"I plead guilty to booing in a game against Seattle last year where Dusty had some pretty good hitters on the bench but chose Alex DEEEEEEaz to pinch-hit for the pitcher in, like, the eighth inning with two runners on and the Giants down by two. Hayes and Jeff Ball were available, but the pitcher was righthanded, so Dusty blindly followed the lefty-righty thing and used Diaz -- who quickly proceeded to pop out."
Hey, he made contact.
I won't boo, but in situations like this I'll just yell in the general direction of the dugout: "Please, Dusty, not him!" Or "Don't bunt, Dusty, pleeeeeease!"
"I think that's the only time I've booed the Giants. I was booing Dusty more than Diaz, I think, because I'd take Hayes against righties over Diaz against anyone in a heartbeat. Hell, I'd take Snow against lefties before I'd take Diaz against AAA pitching. At least Snow can draw a few walks."
"Hell, I boo a lot," says Ken K. "I try pretty hard to not swear in the stands, but it's every American's right to boo a ballplayer.
"Times when I'm very likely to boo:
"I was booing Servais lustily after his double play in the Houston this year when the Astros stole 118 bases off the Giants," says Jason.
It was only 117. The 118th was off Mayne.
"I also followed him home and made his toilet make annoying noises all night."
This is funnier than the way I originally read it, which was that Jason (whose name, Richard tells me, isn't really Jason, but I'm going to stick with that until he tells me what his name is) followed him home and made annoying toilet noises all night. Which is reasonably funny in itself.
"I boo," says Andrew K. "I boo a ton, but only at individual bonehead plays such as lack of hustle or an egregious error. I never boo when a player makes an error or mistake on a hustle play or if they are really going all out in an effort to make a play... if it's a smart play, of course! When I boo it is never personally directed towards the players, only a reaction of my displeasure over a distinct play.
"I've been at a few games this year already where there has been wild cheering when Dusty would come out to take out one of our starters and mad booing following the relieved starter all the way off the field all in one swoop. I felt really bad for our starting pitchers as I looked on from the pavilion seats and heard all this go on time after time. I know why we do this, it is out of our frustration of the poor performance, but I can't help but feel that it does more damage than good to an already fragile pitching staff."
"On the other hand, I didn't appreciate the way Glenallen Hill was treated," says John B. "Make no mistake -- he was in a serious funk, and I was glad to see him go. But I always thought he handled his demotion from starting right fielder in '96, to the end of the bench, and all the catcalls he got from 'fans,' with a great deal of grace."
Thing is, though, he kept saying, "I am the starting right fielder." It really was pathetic.
"That video 'tribute' the Giants had waiting for him when he first returned to the 'Stick as an ex-Giant was embarrassing to me as a Giants fan."
Without question. Completely unnecessary. Heads should've rolled over that one. ("Back goes Hill... still going back... and his head hits the wall! And it's rolling back toward the infield!") Since then, of course, his career has been predicated on murdering the Giants in roughly every at-bat against them.
"When did G-Hill's head fall off and roll around?" says Jason. "Damn interleague play...."
See? It's a blight on the National Pastime, like I been sayin'....
"I can only remember booing two Giants in my life," says Jack V. "The first was Tracy Jones in 1989. It was a Sunday afternoon against the Phillies in late May, and Jones was hitting a robust .074 or something close to that. (I know for sure that he was on the Bingo card.) This was about a week before his four-hit game vs. San Diego that raised his average to a relatively respectable .150 or so. I was slow to warm up to Jones in the first place, because the Giants traded Mike Aldrete, one of my favorites, to get him."
So far, this could be me writing this....
"Needless to say, Jones' ice-cold start didn't help his standing with me. Anyway, this guy is hitting oh-something and he hits a ball in the hole between short and third. The shortstop (probably Steve Jeltz or a comparable stiff; the Phillies of the late '80s weren't exactly a talent-laden squad) backhanded the ball, bobbled it, threw a rainbow to first, and still nailed Jones by a step and a half because he was seriously tanking it up the line. I mean, if Barry Bonds 'cadillacs' it, this guy was in a crawl. I couldn't believe that a guy who had done so little in two months with the Giants wouldn't be busting his ass to get up the line."
Jones clearly had an attitude. He was described in Nash & Zullo's Baseball Confidential as thinking he was "too cool for school." Apparently Ted Simmons once said, for Jones' benefit, "Wow, this is incredible! I'm on the same field with Tracy Jones! My parents won't believe it!" Or something like that.
I also remember a typically slurpy radio interview with Jones on KNBR -- hadda be Ralph Barbieri -- asking him how such a "strong personality" as Jones was likely to get along with Will Clark.
The fact that Jones was eventually traded for Pat Sheridan should be a major indicator of just how good he was.
"I held my tongue for nine years after that," Jack says, "until a Sunday night game against the Braves last year. The Giants had fought like hell all night to tie it up at five. Bonds had taken John Smoltz deep twice, and Mark Gardner had settled down after a rocky first two innings. In the ninth inning, Jose Mesa came in to pitch. The trade to get Mesa in the first place made me sick, and this was at the height of Mesa's 'walk home the winning run' funk.
"I don't remember exactly what happened in that inning, other than Ozzie Guillen, a certifiably wretched offensive player, smoked a double down the right-field line after Mesa had fallen behind 3-1 in the count. Chipper Jones then knocked in Guillen for what was the winning run. Game over, the annoying Braves fans at the 'Stick break out their brooms for what seemed like the 100th time since August of '93. Half of the boo was directed at Mesa, although God knows he certainly wasn't the first awful reliever I'd ever seen don the orange and black. (Chances are he won't be the last either.) I was frustrated at the fact that he was a Giant to begin with, so the other half was at Brian Sabean, who traded away Steve Reed, an outstanding reliever, for NO REASON AT ALL.
"Sabes takes more heat from this newsgroup than I've ever seen. [That's because when we hear him in interviews, it's always on KNBR or Fox Sports Bay Area, where people drop kneeward for him. -- GP] I tend to say to myself, 'What the hell is he thinking?' when he makes most of his trades, but the Reed trade was the only one I can think of that really didn't work out. Maybe he's just incredibly lucky, but I don't see how his run of luck could last this long. Can't be a coincidence. I'm not saying he's great, but it's hard to argue with the results."
That might be the scary part.
Oh, I still do. What's weird is that so many people didn't get it. In fact, I had a disagreement with someone in the Giants newsgroup about three years ago -- can't remember who, but this person didn't understand that Crazy Crab was basically an anti-mascot designed to spoof the whole mascot thing. (A good sign was the fact that fans were encouraged to boo.)
"These people are perfect examples of what happens when you have no sense of humor," says John. "They utterly failed to sense that there was humor in the whole schtick. By the way, do you happen to know what year the Crazy Crab first appeared, and when he was laid to rest?"
I thought he only lasted through about half of 1984. I'm pretty sure that's the year they started doing the Croix campaign, and that that all worked together -- joke of a ballpark, joke of a mascot, etc.... I wouldn't say, though, that booing him was necessarily the sign of a lack of a sense of humor. It could be that lots of people simply played along and enjoyed scapegoating the Crab because the Giants were so awful.
Funny thing: the recent newsgroup discussion about Crazy Crab, in which I used -- that's "used," not "coined"; I'm not trying to grab credit -- the expression "anti-mascot," predated some on-air banter between Mike Krukow and Duane Kuiper about the Crab. Krukow also used the expression "anti-mascot" and said that one of the funniest things he ever saw involved the Crab and Jeffrey Leonard, who used to threaten teammates with bodily harm should they come anywhere near his locker. In 1984, catcher Steve Nicosia responded to this by dressing up in the Crab's costume, going into Leonard's locker, and trashing the hell out of it. Krukow says that even Leonard laughed -- the Crab wasn't a teammate; how could he murder it?
The story I read is that the Crab was retired when the guy in the costume asked Corey Busch, "Do you think any of 'em have guns out there?"
"I seem to remember attending a game that was graced by a Crazy Crab appearance," John says. "People were booing as usual, and maybe a few hot dog wrappers and cups were being tossed his way as well. At this point, the scoreboard began flashing the message, 'PLEASE DO NOT THROW THINGS AT THE CRAZY CRAB!'
"Almost immediately, all manner of debris -- batteries, hot dogs, full cups of beer and soda, baseballs -- came raining down from the stands on the unfortunate crustacean, who was forced to scurry (sideways, I think) out of range, back to around second base."
Seemed to me he always had these stains on his costume....
Oh, and the Crab just made an appearance in a Chevy's radio commercial. (I think the guy who does the voice has been in Chevy's commercials for a year or two.)
I think he was simply the best mascot concept ever -- a great send-up of idiot mascots like, oh, Lou Seal, to name but a few....
"Are they gonna bring back Crazy Crab this year for a last Candlestick appearance?" says Ben F.
"Well, they either have to make a new costume, or find the guy who bought it," says Brian I. "The year after they retired Crazy Crab, the outfit was put up for bid on the annual KQED auction. I was excited about this, and had hoped it would only go for a couple hundred bucks or so, because I was willing to spend that much. But incredibly, I saw the bid get up into the thousands, though I never did see what it finally sold for. Oh well."
"I'm one of those who didn't get it," says Anson: Why was the Crazy Crab an anti-mascot?" Well, traditionally, mascots at least pretend to be endearing, and they're designed to "appeal" to people and to be "cute" in some fashion. The Crazy Crab persona was both crazy and a crab, in the sense of being in a bad mood all the time and making these weird threats. The fact that it was a crab was basically a parody of a tribute to the whole San Francisco/Fisherman's Wharf thing, and, again, the idiot music that accompanied his appearances was pretty much a giveaway.
What I think happened was that the Giants expected people to understand that they were casting an ironic glance at the mascot craze -- the Chicken was big, and the Phanatic and Youppi, for instance, popped up more or less as the result of that -- but people seemed to take it seriously: they were basically encouraged to hate the Crab, and did. They pelted the guy in the costume with all sorts of objects, and evidently it's no joke that the guy began to fear for his life.
"A lot of the baseball literati feel that a mascot is degrading to the game, somewhat akin to 'The Wave,'" says Jason. "So the Giants' angle was to trot a joke mascot for the fans to boo at. This would be around the time that the word on Giants' fans was: 'Not many go to games, but they are very knowledgeable and rowdy.'
"And of course this was so long ago that the 'Stick was known for having among the best Polish Sausages. (I remember going, "Wow! What's the "nachos" stuff?'")
"Well... trying to explain the Crazy Crab is probably an impossibility, but what the heck, I'll give it a shot," John B. says. "I think it all goes back to 'The Famous Chicken.' Although actually he started out as the 'KGB Chicken' (promoting San Diego station KGB -- an FM rock station). [John knows whereof he speaks, having attended San Diego State just before I did, when the Chicken was beginning to hit it big. -- GP] The KGB Chicken would show up at Padres games and would just do weird antics that were original and very funny. This was the late '70s, and the Padres were so bad and boring that the KGB Chicken was often the best thing about the game. The Chicken was a big success, soon giving rise to a host of other 'mascots.'
"Problem was, all the other mascots (the Oriole, the Pirate, the Phillie Phanatic, Lou Seal...) failed to capture three very important elements that Ted Giannoulas (the guy in the Chicken suit) had captured: 1) Their outfits weren't funny (not intentionally anyway), 2) Their 'antics' weren't funny or even original, and 3) The thing is, the KGB Chicken really wasn't a 'mascot'--not for the Padres anyway. Otherwise he'd have been a huge friar, with a giant bald-spotted head. (Oh yeah, the Padres actually have one of these now)." This strikes me as similar to the glut of R2-D2 clones. Once Star Wars came out, every damn science fiction-type thing required a cute little robot thing, from Buck Rogers and "Twiki," or at least that's what Marie says it was called, and which couldn't speak without going "Bleebledeebledeep," to Dr. Who, which for a time employed an extremely cheesy robot dog-thing called "K-9."
John says that the Chicken was "kind of this bizarre outsider who just happened to be there rooting for the Padres, and against the opposing team. The Padres never seemed to really promote his appearances. They just let him show up, and have the run of the stadium -- this weird guy in a ridiculous chicken outfit, doing his thing. It was classic.
"But the originators of the other mascots never really got that. They tried to copy the success of the Chicken, without getting the essence of what had made him such a hit. Soon, Major League Baseball was inundated with scores of talentless hacks doing worn-out schtick, in stupid mascot outfits. Because they were 'official mascots,' they couldn't really be edgy or original (i.e., funny). They really were there for the kids (who also were bored by them).
"Then came the Crab. I don't know who it was who dreamed up the Crazy Crab, but he or she deserves an award. Some reasons I loved that Crazy Crab:
[The Giants were terrible, of course, and their fans were seen as being in a permanently bad mood. Players talked about how brutal the fans were -- I think Bob Brenly called Giants fans the worst in the league. -- GP]
[This nails it. -- GP]
"Personally, I loved that Crazy Crab."
"Me too," says John G. "Crazy Crab was the ultimate anti-mascot: you were supposed to boo him. I loved that the Giants management was (or at least appeared) clever and cool enough to come up with the idea of mocking the crummy mascots you find in other parks. Made me feel like part of a sophisticated group.
"I guess it was wise not to continue the Crab, too. The joke would have gotten tiresome and pointless if it stretched out indefinitely.
"I'm disappointed in Lou Seal. Needs a better costume, and some sort of hook, or persona to make him/her mean something."
He needs to be replaced by something interesting and clever.
[What would be helpful is to compare those numbers to a league average or something. I'm guessing that the trend goes in that direction anyway. -- GP]
"Anyway, like I said, the basic tone of the article is that we shouldn't expect a lot more shutouts if he keeps pitching this way. Which I think is something we can all sensibly agree with, even if it's less fun to do so."
"Reading this article and your comments and confirmed what I observed about Nathan's performance," says John G.: "He benefited from the free-swinging Marlins kids. On the other hand, Dusty was smart to give him his first start against the Marlins, and it sure won't hurt Nathan's confidence that he did so well. He definitely has talent. If he learns control, he'll keep making us happy for a long time to come."
His second start was against the possibly even more free-swinging Expos. It'll be interesting to see what happens next, since I'm pretty sure he goes tomorrow against the not-so-free-swinging Mets.
There's a lot of speculation about what will happen when Mark Gardner returns from the disabled list. The most reasonable rumor is that Nathan would go back to Fresno, but other items of gossip include the possible trade of Julian Tavarez to the Angels.
"I have no problem with Nathan going back down right now," says Richard. "For one thing, he could still use some experience. For another, it might be the only thing that keeps his pitch count down before his arm blows off.
"(I am amazed that he had not gone over 86 pitches in the minors, then goes over 120 pitches [in his second start]. He would have been perfectly well off calling it a night after seven.) [Dusty kept him in for another inning.]
I think Gardner will be better than he was before he went on the DL, and now that the rest of the staff is starting to settle down, I kind of think he will too. And if not, Nathan is just a cheap plane ticket away."
"I don't send someone down for going 2-0 with a 1.20 ERA in two starts and 15 innings," says Tim. "That just sends the wrong message. My preference would be to send Felix Rodriguez down, but I think he's out of options.
Actually, I'd prefer to get rid of Tavarez among the entire staff, but that's not going to happen. And even if that was resolved, someone has to leave the rotation. I'd make that Gardner, at least for a while. There's no way I take the ball away from Ortiz, Brock, or Nathan. They're all pitching way too well.
"This is why the Spradlin trade was so stupid. Before that trade, I send Del Toro down, keep Nathan, and temporarily send Gardner to long relief -- QED. Now, the Giants are put into a major quandary."
It would be something if they do decide to stick Gardner in the bullpen, if for no other reason than because Brett Tomko, his opposing pitcher on Opening Day, was just optioned by the Reds.
"Let's think out loud," says Todd R. "Interesting dilemma. Someone may go via trade or release, and I suspect they're looking at someone to get rid of now for a warm (hopefully minor league) body. Despite his less than stellar start, Spradlin is a fairly good bet to log some innings and notch a 3-1 strikeout-to-walk ratio, which would be a vast improvement over Tavarez. [After today, though, I'm even less of a Spradlin fan. -- GP] Funny thought: would Tavarez be the 'player to be named later' in the Indians deal? Not likely, if the Indians cut Spradlin. [No. The player to be named later can't be someone who was on the major league roster. -- GP] It's all pretty strange picking up Spradlin unless something else is ready to shake out in the bullpen. Despite his 'iron arm' and relative youth, I wouldn't mind giving Tavarez a chance somewhere else. Maybe we can pick up a minor league first baseman -- hey, where's Roberto Petagine these days? In Japan?
"As for Nathan: well, those pitch counts worry me, as well. It's as if Baker is more concerned about his bullpen's health than his starters' arms falling off. Still, I think we can all be encouraged with the young man, especially after giving up a couple of not-too-solid runs in the first (hey, no homers!). In all honesty, I'm not looking forward to Gardner's return. Even if Nathan stank, I would be worried."
"This team can't afford to send reasonably good (we're at the top of the bell curve in performance right now -- it ain't gonna last in all likelihood) young pitchers who can pitch seven innings to the minors," says Greg L. "In fact, I'd like to take this moment to point out how freaking good the pitching staff has been ever since Gardner pulled his suck muscle. Patience with a young staff yields better results than trading for Jerry Spradlin (formerly the rhythm guitarist for Guns 'n Roses...) and starting Orel and Danny Darwin. They're pitching too many innings, but at least they can go deep into the game. If Estes levels out, I think the pitching is fine.
"If I'm the Giants GM, I'm sending Eds down and letting Ramon back up third, if I can't put Gardner back on the DL for intense malaise."
J.Y. says, That will get you 13 pitchers on a 25-man roster, with only four position players on the bench: Rios, Martinez, Servais, and Santangelo. What will you tell your manager when he has to send in Russ Ortiz to pinch-hit in the 12th inning of a 6-6 ballgame?"
"I pretty much agree with Richard's take," says John B. "Bring Gardy back when he's ready. However, on the basis of his start in San Jose (which really doesn't look all that impressive statistically, despite the seven strikeouts in four innings), I might be tempted to have him start one more minor league game, maybe this time in Fresno, while giving Nathan one more start against Pittsburgh.
"Eventually, though, I think Gardner should be ready to come back, and I just don't think it's realistic to expect the Giants to let their highest paid pitcher gather dust. When Gardy does come back, Nathan will probably be the one who needs to go down. The Giants will benefit in the long run from allowing Nathan to gain more experience in the minors. Remember, Nathan has pitched all of 15 innings in the major leagues. He has pitched zero innings in AAA and 15.1 innings in AA. Jeff Robinson, Jamie Brewington, Joe Roselli, Mike Remlinger, and Paul McClellan (among others) are reminders not to get overly excited by a couple of nice initial outings. I do think there's good reason to hope that Nathan will not follow in any of the aforementioned pitchers' footsteps. Nathan seems to have an uncommon ability for one so young and with so little experience, to pitch intelligently. And I don't know if any of those other pitchers possessed a 97-mph fastball. But he's still young and can benefit from at least half a season of pitching in AAA.
"Also, I do think Gardy will be okay. I'd say give him maybe four or five more starts in San Francisco to show that he can do the job. If he can't, the Giants will probably have to release him and bring back Nathan. Eating a $2 million contract is not something the Giants can do very easily though, given their budget constraints. But... if Gardy can't get guys out, he can't get guys out, and there's no use trotting him out there just to justify a contract."
[Eventually -- after three years -- the Giants came to that conclusion about Dave Righetti. -- GP]
"The thing is, too, it's not even realistic to banish Gardy to long relief, since he's known for taking an inning or two to get into any kind of effective rhythm. The Giants would have to either hope to sucker someone into trading for him (yeah, right), or put him on the 60-day DL (give him the Osvaldo treatment), or just release him."
"I'm not convinced Gardner couldn't make the transition to long relief," says Jonathan. "And that would give us a number-six starter, in the not unlikely event of an injury or ineffectiveness. Let's assume that Garnder is a 4.50 ERA pitcher, Nathan a 3.50 pitcher, same innings pitched. Scenario Number One is that Gardner pitches, Nathan is in the minors, Gardner gets paid $2M, Nathan gets paid peanuts. Number Two is that Nathan pitches, Gardner is in long relief or released, Gardner gets paid $2 million, Nathan gets paid peanuts (but now they're high-quality peanuts).
"Okay: Why is Number Two something that the Giants can't 'do very easily?' It costs them exactly nothing compared to Number One, and presumably brings fans into the stadium."
"Because when you don't have a lot of money to throw around in the first place, it's tough to watch $4 million go down the toilet," John says. "You want to do everything you can to get something out of your investment. I understand the point you're making. In fact, your point is what I meant, when I said 'if Gardy can't get guys out, he can't get guys out, and there's no use trotting him out there just to justify a contract.'
"I'm not saying it's impossible for the Giants to cut Gardy loose. If he's just flat ineffective, the Giants will have to cut their losses. I'm just saying that given the money they have invested in him, I think they'll be a lot more reluctant to cut him loose than many of us might be if we were in their shoes."
"Well, right," says Jonathan. "What they likely will do will be affected by Gardner's salary. But the salary shouldn't affect them. It's a sunk cost."
"Gardner's a good team guy, and maybe he could suck it up, change his approach a little bit, and be an effective long reliever/spot starter. No, I wouldn't say I'm convinced he can't either. It'd certainly be worth a try. Based on Gardner's M.O. as a starter, though, as well as on other times he's tried to pitch long relief, I'd say I'm even less convinced that he can.
"I agree about the likelihood of one of the other starters becoming ineffective or injured. In light of that, I'd say that in the event that Gardner remains horribly ineffective, the Giants should just keep him on the DL until he's ready to come back (if he ever is). That, I think, is more realistic than the Giants releasing him or putting him in long relief. But if Gardy gets back to his normal level, I still think the Giants will put him back in the rotation, and send Nathan down."
Gunman says, "Speaking of Joe Nathan's 122 pitch effort earlier this week: [Giants Assistant GM Ned] Colletti said 122 pitches weren't a big deal because of the 'exchange rate... 122 pitches in (Montreal) is 80-something in the U.S.'"
(Actually, I'm pretty sure Bonilla batted fourth -- ahead of Bonds. Remember, Bonds batted fifth when he came over here, too... and the guy batting behind him a lot was Willie McGee.)
Another thing -- and we probably didn't need the Chronicle to tell us this, which it did -- is that Kent's feeling Bonds' absence, feeling the burden of being the go-to guy. I wish he'd relax... but I guess I understand it, because Kent's never really been the go-to guy.
"But Kent is getting plenty of guys on in front of him," says Tim. "He just seems so determined to hit big flies with men on base in Bonds' absence that he's taking mighty hacks at almost everything when a couple of guys are on base in a situation that calls for a home run. He seems to think he has to do it all in one swing now... at least those are the vibes I'm getting after watching all his terrible-looking whiffs with men on base -- and walks, singles, and little bad ball swinging with no one on base."
"Some things you can blame on bad swings, but some you have to blame on bad luck," says Ben F. "For example Benard gets picked off second, then Kent doubles. Or like last night, there are two on and Kent gets hit by the pitch. On his bad swings I think he is just trying to rip the ball and ends up missing. Another thing is he may not be seeing good pitches due to the fact it is Hayes or Snow behind him. But with 134 games remaining Kent may still end up with over 100."
"Whether he's just pressing or whether he feels like he has to pick up some slack for Bond's absence (or likely, both), it seems obvious to me every time I see him fall behind 0-and-2 in the count with runners on base," says Tim. "A lot of the guys in the booth keep commenting on [his lack of production]. In the last few games, the reason is becoming more and more clear.
"In situations where a big hit -- particularly an extra base hit -- are in order, Kent takes a huge cut at anything and everything and quickly falls behind in the count... striking out as often as not.
"Is this my imagination, or has Jeff been swinging at a lot of bad balls with two or more runners on base lately? He's drawing a lot of walks in more meaningless situations and with none on base, it seems to me, but can't resist the temptation to swing at almost everything when there are ducks on the pond."
At the time of the question, Snow's OBP was .345, Womack's .297.
Jack V. says, "A .297 OBP for Tony Womack? THE Tony Womack? The DYNAMIC Tony Womack? The same Tony Womack whom Ralph Barbieri called the National League's best leadoff hitter 'in terms of just getting on base.' Amazing indeed."
"Just another stellar year for the game's (ha) Fabulous Leadoff Man, who makes Arizona's lineup complete according to the pundits," says Tim. "I'd like for someone in the media to explain their infatuation with a guy who has a career OPS of .684 (.277/.324/.360). It takes what, maybe 300 steals in a season to make up for bat cancer?"
"Keep in mind that using Tony Womack's OPS as a baseline places the bar very low indeed," says Charley. "Realize that this so-called leadoff hitter drew 38 walks last year (in 159 games)! The Pirates slugger drew more walks (in same games played) -- and (not coincidentally) scored more runs for the team. Womack should have been batting before a pitcher slot designed to hone bunting skills.
"It is quite interesting to see how far the pendulum has swung for leadoff hitters on the Pirates. From Womack, who erroneously 'seemed' to be ideal for the spot, to this year's Jason Kendall, who erroneously 'seems' ill-suited. Kendall will likely save the Bucs dozens of outs compared to the sub-.650-OPS Womack."
"Rickey Henderson could hit .150 and have a higher OBP than Womack," says Tim.
"F. P. Santangelo, before [till recently], was hitting something like .132 but with an on-base percentage of .382, or so said Jon Miller on radio," says John G. "I love how the Giants take lots of walks. ["And I'd be happier if Giant pitching didn't cough them up commensurately," says Tim. -- GP] It's good baseball, and their offensive production shows the results. Only Benard has me a little worried in this regard, as his walk rate seems to be down (without checking the numbers) in comparison to what he did the last part of last year. His hitting has been good lately, but he needs the walks to be really effective as the leadoff guy."
I hope not. (For the record, I know of no relative named Jeff Pearlman.)
Seth says, "Sample, if you will, CNN/SI's Jeff Pearlman and his kvetching weekly column, in which he takes it upon himself to lambaste most every player in a Giants' uniform for failure to suck up to his overwhelming asininitude." Well, that's how we know Jeff's no relative. Imagine: a Pearlman who's not a Giants fan. That's just sick.
Long story shorter, Cousin Jeff whines about being blown off by ballplayers, specifically citing Donovan Osborne of the Cardinals and our own lovely Mark Gardner. He says, "In a very casual, very shy, very respectful manner, I uttered a soft, 'Uh, Donovan?' Donovan, no more than two feet straight ahead, barely looked up. He grabbed his mitt, shrugged and walked away.
"This column, I have been told, is about baseball, baseball, baseball. No more Webster references. Cut the fart jokes. But what's more baseball, more traditional, more American than the Boy of Summer staring down a schlub scribe as if he were liquid snot? [He could be one of us, 'cause he's reasonably funny, but not as funny as he thinks he is. -- GP] Hell, just a day prior to the Osborne incident, San Francisco's Mark Gardner -- not even on the active roster -- was warm enough to order me far, far away. Again, I approached Gardner no less politely than I would my own mother: 'Hey, Mark, can I talk to you about the Giants?'
"'No.'
"Thanks, bud."
Well, come on. If he made requests of his mother by saying "can I" rather than "may I please...."
No, sir, this guy isn't related. I hope. He continues:
"The reporter blow-off is hardly the hot rage. To suggest such would be an insult to the game's notorious blow-offers, namely Thurman Munson, Frank Thomas, (pre-Christ) Gary Gaetti, Bruce Kison, George Foster, Rafael Palmeiro, et al. The most hailed, of course, is Dave Kingman, the 400-home-run hitter from Planet Ass. ["This line is freakin' classic right here and the only nugget from the column," says Greg L. "Something the real Pearlman might have written." I'm thinking I might have said "Planet Yutz." Assuming I am the real Pearlman, that is. -- GP] Kingman's legacy isn't his long blasts, but his short comprehension of humanity. Once, when he was with the A's, Kingman sent a female writer a small box, neatly adorned with a pink ribbon. When she opened it, the scribe found a rat."
Once, when Bobby Thomson was batting, he hit a home run, and the Giants won the pennant.
"Kingman was once a Giant, which makes sense."
So not related to me.
"Outside of Jeff Kent, Shawn Estes, Ellis Burks and a few rookie scrubs and bullpen stragglers, these Jints do Dave proud. Kirk Rueter, a man whose ERA reads like a Saks Fifth Avenue pricetag, told me he's be happy to chat -- later.
"When?
"'I need to loosen up first.'
"OK.
"I waited. And waited. And waited. No Kirk."
It clearly doesn't occur to this guy that maybe it's him, you know? Everybody else is the jerk.
"Of course, there's the incomparable Barry Bonds, a man whose idea of good media is dead media. Bonds is the one man reporters dislike more than Albert Belle. Belle, to his credit, has made it clear that any encroaching pen handlers will be Louisvilled upside the cranium. Bonds offers 8,000 reasons why he's Barry and you're not ... then swings away."
Meaning?
Seth interjects: Uh, a point or two:
[So glad you said this. -- GP]
[This too. He sounds basically petulant and as though he's looking for trouble. A whiner with a national, large-audience forum in which to whine and abuse his power. (Sure, I whine, but I don't have any power.) -- GP]
[Well, he was here for most of three years.... -- GP]
[It was the stuff transparent things see through and go, "How transparent." -- GP]
"Oh, and: no offense meant, Gregg. "I really do believe in my heart of hearts that you're not related to this doofus."
Nothing Seth said offends me. It's this guy.
Funny thing: my family -- immediate and extended (to aunts, uncles, grandparents, some cousins) -- is "The Nice Pearlmans." I haven't met a lot of Pearlmans not related to me, because it's not that common a name, but they've been universally rude. Go figure. (Then again, my folks will be married 50 years next year, and as my dad did for his stepmom, I'm going to publicly express amazement at my mother for being married 50 years to a Pearlman. It's a family legend, so to speak, that really started (and ended) with my great-grandfather, who I'm told wasn't a Nice Pearlman. Since you never asked.)
Sean says, "Pearlman's column is consistently poor."
Since I snipped everything above, I just want to make clear that Sean's talking about Jeff Pearlman's column. I hope....
"Does he realize that whiny columns like this are a big part of the reason that players are blowing him off?"
This is what I'm thinking. Do any of these guys -- El Jeffo, R.E. Graswich, Lowell Cohn, Bob Smizik, Bruce Jenkins -- ever think, "Huh... maybe it's me"?
"News flash to Jeff P.: It isn't the ballplayers, it's you," says Marie. "My mom always told me that if you want the other kids to like you, you have to like them first."
Looks like this is very likely the universal reaction to his column, assuming certain readers can get past their own possible hatred of the Giants.
Sounds like Cousin Jeff needs to be introduced to this old book by Dale Carnegie....
He's talking about a recent game in which Embree not only blew the lead against the Rockies for Chris Brock, but also gave up two home runs and put the Giants behind by a run late in the game. Armando Rios' two-run homer in the eighth and Robb Nen's ninth pulled out the victory, but Embree got credit for the victory.
After he gave up the Mormanesque dinger to Darryl Hamilton, I was staring intently at Embree's image on TV yesterday, concentrating my thoughts at him, as is my wont during ballgames, and thinking, "'Kay, Emb, you'd better vulch this win."
"This is why the win statistic stinks," says Tim. "Embree was the worst Giants pitcher today, giving up back-to-back dingers in one inning of work and costing Brock the win. Yet he winds up getting a win. Seems to me if that if a starter can't get a win if he doesn't go five innings, a reliever shouldn't get the win if he sucked badly in his appearance. Give it to John Johnstone in that case. Sheesh." (Johnstone pitched a strong eighth.)
It's something Bill James has gone on about in some detail, namely that people complain about the save stat and how stupid it is, but it's much better defined and less arbitrary than the win stat is. Go figure.
Paul says, "Looking at the rulebook, Embree shouldn't have been credited with the win. Even though, according to rule 10.19(a)(4), Embree was the pitcher of record when the Giants regained the lead, there is a further explanation to the rule about awarding the win to a pitcher, which states:
"'EXCEPTION: Do not credit a victory to a relief pitcher who is ineffective in a brief appearance, when a succeeding relief pitcher pitches effectively in helping his team maintain the lead. In such cases, credit the succeeding relief pitcher with the victory.'
"So, you can certainly argue that the scorer blew this one."
"This is what I was thinking," says John B. "Actually, I've seen much worse relief performances than Embree's yesterday, that still were rewarded with a 'W.' It seems as if the official scorer uses 'the exception' very rarely, and I've often wondered why."
Probably because it's "politically easier" to award the win to the pitcher of record.
Looks like the wording of the exception has changed slightly over the years, though; it's much clearer now. But without a doubt, the win really had to go to Johnstone.
In earlier days, there were instances when the win might gone to Brock.
Oh, and something that came up in my li'l Strat-O-Matic league on my Mac was kind of interesting. I can't remember the any of the particulars, but it went kind of like this:
I have to think this happens in real life sometimes. And the closer, whose contract no doubt has a nice incentive for reaching a given save total (but nothing for wins), ends up pissed off and yelling at the official scorer for giving him a win instead of a save.
David M. says, "Just ignore won-lost marks for relief pitchers. It's not a valid measure of their worth. ERA, baserunners-per-inning, and inherited runners-scored ratios give you a better idea of a reliever's effectiveness."
I'm not sure that won-lost record is all that valid a measure for starters, either. Ted Robinson or Joe Morgan's gonna tell me that a 20-game winner with a 5.63 ERA has helped his team more than a 15-game winner with a 2.63 ERA. I'm gonna question that.
"Certainly rubbish, at least for two pitchers on the same team (i.e., same league averages, no park adjustments)," says Tim. "Your example is probably extreme enough to even be rubbish after adjusting for seasons and parks, anyway."
I hope it's extreme. Almost everything Joe said about statistics in his book is complete rubbish. (Interestingly, just last week Rob Neyer of ESPN wrote a column that, in part, discussed Morgan and his book. His take is the same as mine, which means, hey, I got validated by a respected professional! Woo-hoo!)
Speaking of inherited runners stats, is there a magic number that translates as "good"? Or even "bad"? Is it the kind of stat that tends to fluctuate along with league offense? Or what?)
"I'd imagine there is some correlation to league averages, but I'm guessing that's fairly small," says Tim.
But does anyone know of a "benchmark"? Like, "Twenty-five percent of inherited runners scoring is good"?
"I can't recall ever seeing a reliever who saves a win actually being credited with a win instead of a save, although I'm sure there've been plenty of games in my lifetime alone in which that would have been an appropriate ruling," says John B. "But what you said makes a great deal of sense -- which I think goes along way towards explaining why it can't ever happen in real life."
Aaah, real life's overrated anyway.
We're 16-10, thanks to a three-game sweep by the Mets. Terribly annoying game today. Weird, too. Kirk Rueter, first of all, threw seven strong innings -- shutout innings, in fact -- for his first particularly good, non-weak start all season. (He gave up two runs in six innings last time out, but had a bit of a lapse and gave up a two-run dinger after taking a line drive off his body somewhere.) The Giants refused to score for him, though.
And it got really annoying in the eighth.
Rickey Henderson booted a routine base hit by Rich Aurilia, who, instead of running all the way when he saw this, hesitated, then trotted into second -- meaning he had eons to get there and didn't need to hesitate... but he did, and he reinjured his groin pull. ("Stop pulling that groin, Richie" would be my advice to him.) So because of Henderson's misplay and his own indecision, he was done for the game. Scott Service looked as though he was going to bat for Rueter, possibly because he hits Dennis Cook well (or maybe just because he hits lefties well in general), but with Aurilia already having left for the pinch-runner, Shawn Estes, Dusty decided to send up Ramon Martinez, who struck out. Oh, well, that's one of those things, and pinch-hitting's tough anyway.
Generally speaking, the Giants' hitters haven't been very patient lately and have hit into a lot of first- and second-pitch outs... but it was Matt Franco cashing in on the first pitch he sees as a pinch-hitter in the bottom of the eighth, a two-out ground-ball single that should've been reasonably harmless. (Other teams, particularly the Expos, who just don't draw walks this year, had no trouble waiting on good pitches in the Giants' series in Montreal. Didn't help them any, though.)
But no. John Johnstone went 3-0 on Henderson, then threw a strike, then got a popup to short left, and we were out of the inning. But, again, no. Martinez, who's had his problems defensively anyway, lost it in the sun, or the wind, or whatever. He had it, he kind of juggled it, then kicked it out of his glove. Franco, running hard, broke up the run-free tie and scored from first -- major heads-up baserunning.
I didn't really think about this while watching the play, but replays made me think, "Um... Stan Javier and Marvin Benard were close enough to the ball to call off Martinez... plus they've flipped their sunglasses down, and Martinez hasn't." I can't help thinking that Aurilia would've made this play, even if it was nothing more than a matter of getting his glasses down.
The Mets eventually pushed another run across (perhaps with the help of a single that kicked off Javier's glove... but then, Henderson might easily have scored anyway). The inning ended when Mike Piazza hit a home run off Rich Rodriguez -- only the wind killed the drive, and it was caught on the track.
Javier led off the ninth with a single! Yay! Jeff Kent wanted like hell to beat his former team, and his jaw was tight all series, so he went up there to get that clutch hit... and whiffed miserably. Lefty killer J.T. Snow ran the count full. (This tells you how much faith Ted Robinson has in Snow: With only one out, he says, "The Giants are hoping they can get Ellis Burks up." Burks, with a runner on first, was scheduled to bat fourth in the inning. Clearly Ted figured on Snow to hit into a double play if he somehow avoided striking out.) But looky there: a base hit to center field. Snow beat the Earnest Ragging Shift.
Which brought up Burks, a fabulous double-play candidate, gimpy as he is. I watch him and think, "He looks 45. He looks like a formerly good player who should only start once a week. He looks kind of like Andre Dawson in his last couple of years."
But the count went to 3-2 after a topper that went foul. And then a foul tip. And then F.P. Santangelo went into run for Snow at first, which isn't exactly unwise. And Burks took ball four, loading them up for Charlie Hayes, who's had a little success against Franco in his career. This reminds me that I've been a little bent out of shape at the fact that Bill Mueller's injury keeps Hayes in the lineup at all times... and he's really not good enough. But what it really does is make Dusty use guys like Martinez or Service as pinch-hitters in key situations instead of Hayes.
Of course, any prior success against Franco doesn't matter now: Hayes hit into a game-ending double-play.
Doesn't bother me a bit, oh, no.
Copyright ©1999 by Gregg Pearlman
Last updated 5/3/99 Gregg Pearlman, gregg@EEEEEEgp.com