6.27.2005
How Low Could It Have Gone?
This past weekend saw the conclusion of Interleague Play 2005, a merciful end for the Giants, who were brutally swept by the cross-bay rival Athletics over at McAfee Coliseum. In case anyone needed evidence that the struggling A's were beginning to turn it around while the struggling Giants were not, look no further. The most demoralizing aspect about this for the Giants is not that they were swept, but that they were defeated in three distinct ways. The nugget recaps:
Friday, 6/24: 4-3. The Close Loss. Joe Blanton is Moneyball-lickin' good, allowing 3 runs (0 ER) in 8 IP. Jeff Fassero, meanwhile, starts for San Francisco and allows homers to Bobbies Kielty and Crosby.
Saturday, 6/25: 6-3. The Sloppy Giveaway Game. Dan Haren goes the distance. Nick Swisher hits a three-run jack. Five different Giants, including new acquisition Alex Sanchez, make errors. (Lost amid the humiliation is Mike Matheny's eighth homer, tying his career high already.) Sanchez is relegated to the DH slot the next day.
Sunday, 6/26: 16-0. Utter Devastation. Swisher homers from both sides of the plate, six A's go 3-for-5 or better. The Giants can only muster one hit. Ouch!
That Sunday drubbing in particular probably evokes more pity than it should. A blowout of those proportions looks more painful than it is because the last two hours are anticlimactic, or if you will, five innings of Scott Munter pitching to Adam Melhuse. The stakes are so low during the Munter/Melhuse Time that by the time it's over, everyone on both sides is already mentally detached from the events of that day and prepared for the next.
(As an aside, I can hardly believe that San Francisco manager Felipe Alou chose not to let a position player pitch those last couple innings. He would have delighted the crowd and saved his bullpen the wear and tear at the same time. This should happen anytime the deficit is ten or greater with two innings or less to go, am I right?)
Ah yes, those moments when events turn so miserable that laughter is the only recourse. This takes me back to my freshman year of high school baseball, when I was a benchwarmer on a team so bad it could make paint peel. We were playing Alabama Christian Academy, whom we would come to dominate in later years, but this year they had an ace pitcher, a tall and lanky lefty who had been deemed a preseason high school All-American. His name was Jon something. It doesn't matter.
Jon not only struck out our first nine batters of the game, but he did not allow even one foul ball over that span. We simply couldn't touch his pitches. Eventually we had a baserunner in the fourth inning when he plunked a batter in the ribs with a low-90s fastball. Oh yeah, and he also homered and tripled at the plate for good measure. (We lost by the mercy rule, 11-0 after five innings.) Setting aside the matter of whether I was witness to the most dominating all-around performance by anyone at any level, the point of the story is that, as a benchwarmer with nothing better to do and no good way of reconciling the shame that I felt at not even being good enough to crack the lineup of a team that was getting so spectacularly smoked, I concocted, along with my fellow benchwarmer Rush Elliott, a list of terms for games that were better than perfect games, because "perfect game" didn't really begin to describe what Jon was inflicting upon our team after three innings:
Friday, 6/24: 4-3. The Close Loss. Joe Blanton is Moneyball-lickin' good, allowing 3 runs (0 ER) in 8 IP. Jeff Fassero, meanwhile, starts for San Francisco and allows homers to Bobbies Kielty and Crosby.
Saturday, 6/25: 6-3. The Sloppy Giveaway Game. Dan Haren goes the distance. Nick Swisher hits a three-run jack. Five different Giants, including new acquisition Alex Sanchez, make errors. (Lost amid the humiliation is Mike Matheny's eighth homer, tying his career high already.) Sanchez is relegated to the DH slot the next day.
Sunday, 6/26: 16-0. Utter Devastation. Swisher homers from both sides of the plate, six A's go 3-for-5 or better. The Giants can only muster one hit. Ouch!
That Sunday drubbing in particular probably evokes more pity than it should. A blowout of those proportions looks more painful than it is because the last two hours are anticlimactic, or if you will, five innings of Scott Munter pitching to Adam Melhuse. The stakes are so low during the Munter/Melhuse Time that by the time it's over, everyone on both sides is already mentally detached from the events of that day and prepared for the next.
(As an aside, I can hardly believe that San Francisco manager Felipe Alou chose not to let a position player pitch those last couple innings. He would have delighted the crowd and saved his bullpen the wear and tear at the same time. This should happen anytime the deficit is ten or greater with two innings or less to go, am I right?)
Ah yes, those moments when events turn so miserable that laughter is the only recourse. This takes me back to my freshman year of high school baseball, when I was a benchwarmer on a team so bad it could make paint peel. We were playing Alabama Christian Academy, whom we would come to dominate in later years, but this year they had an ace pitcher, a tall and lanky lefty who had been deemed a preseason high school All-American. His name was Jon something. It doesn't matter.
Jon not only struck out our first nine batters of the game, but he did not allow even one foul ball over that span. We simply couldn't touch his pitches. Eventually we had a baserunner in the fourth inning when he plunked a batter in the ribs with a low-90s fastball. Oh yeah, and he also homered and tripled at the plate for good measure. (We lost by the mercy rule, 11-0 after five innings.) Setting aside the matter of whether I was witness to the most dominating all-around performance by anyone at any level, the point of the story is that, as a benchwarmer with nothing better to do and no good way of reconciling the shame that I felt at not even being good enough to crack the lineup of a team that was getting so spectacularly smoked, I concocted, along with my fellow benchwarmer Rush Elliott, a list of terms for games that were better than perfect games, because "perfect game" didn't really begin to describe what Jon was inflicting upon our team after three innings:
- Perfect Game: No baserunners allowed. Three up, three down every inning.
- Awesome Game: A Perfect Game where no balls make it out of the infield.
- Ultimate Game: An Awesome Game with no balls in play, only strikeouts.
- Divine Game: An Ultimate Game wherein the bat does not even touch the ball.
- Holy Divine Game: A Divine Game with no called balls, meaning every batter strikes out on three pitches.
I realize these definitions begin to go beyond the realm of practicality and more towards baseball theory, but it bears mentioning that, pitching against us on this particular day, Jon was divine through three and ultimate through four. (And while we're on the subject, Katie Brownell should receive credit for an ultimate game. Congrats Katie, and many more.)
