7.22.2008
Why Ask Why
Fairly sloppy and uninspiring game. It was Lincecum's first start since his hospitalization for "dehydration" aka "flulike symptoms" aka a massive hangover during the All-Star break. His control was a tad off and the resulting high pitch count probably fatigued him to the point of allowing Ryan Braun's backbreaking three-run homer in the seventh -- he had already topped a hundred pitches through five and arguably shouldn't even have come out for the sixth -- but I'm way more interested in the reluctance of the sporting media to report something along the lines of "Tim Lincecum Too Trashed to Play in All-Star Game," even if it's a completely open secret.
Here's what Will Carroll wrote in BP yesterday for one of his little throwaway daily notes, notable because it's the closest I've seen anyone come to just saying it:
Anyhow, the Brewers dispatched the Giants in workmanlike fashion to complete a three-game sweep. The talent disparity on the field seemed noticeable, particularly when Braun and Corey Hart hit homers that had a way of feeling like impossible feats for a lineup featuring Eugenio Velez in left and someone named Ivan Ochoa at short (Brian Bocock having been reduced to but a memory). In front of us sat two friendly Brewers fans who were shocked to learn that the Giants do not feature even one player who could be counted upon to hit twenty homers in a full season's worth of playing time. Rowand, maybe...Bengie Molina but that's kind of a stretch...and yep, we're all done.
Other inexplicable events from this day included: a Mets fan two rows behind us (dead ringer for Bobby Valentine when he wore the fake mustache) who unfortunately proved louder and dumber than the entire rest of our section combined; a Giants fan two rows behind him who thought one solitary noise clapper, if employed incessantly for three straight innings, would somehow get everyone fired up rather than extensively annoyed; and the Giants' decision, during the postgame Picnic in the Park for season ticketholders (always a favorite event of ours due to free beer and hot dogs), to feature zoo animals including a baby camel, boa constrictor, and whatever in the world this is:
But the most unanswerable question came from the nice middle-aged lady sitting next to me about a third of the way into the game. She patiently waited for a break in between innings so that I wasn't occupied, then asked, "I really don't mean this in a sarcastic way, but why do you do that?" She was pointing to my scorebook.
I get this every time I come to a Giants game. Usually it's from someone just obnoxious enough who says they can't understand why I would, to which my stock reply is that I don't really understand the people who don't keep score. But this woman was not only kind, but completely serious and totally deserving of a real response.
I trotted out the usual reasons: to have as a keepsake, to help me pay more attention to the game, and as a sort of homage to the old-school way of doing things. But none of those are good enough reasons on their own, really. She wasn't convinced. Then I realized, I wasn't convinced either. Why is it exactly that I do this again?
Full House
Here's what Will Carroll wrote in BP yesterday for one of his little throwaway daily notes, notable because it's the closest I've seen anyone come to just saying it:
If anyone tells you that Tim Lincecum will be affected in the second half by his All-Star illness, don't believe them. And next time someone mentions the way that the media deals with players now, versus what they did with Mickey Mantle, don't believe that either.Point taken -- but why does it have to be this way?
Anyhow, the Brewers dispatched the Giants in workmanlike fashion to complete a three-game sweep. The talent disparity on the field seemed noticeable, particularly when Braun and Corey Hart hit homers that had a way of feeling like impossible feats for a lineup featuring Eugenio Velez in left and someone named Ivan Ochoa at short (Brian Bocock having been reduced to but a memory). In front of us sat two friendly Brewers fans who were shocked to learn that the Giants do not feature even one player who could be counted upon to hit twenty homers in a full season's worth of playing time. Rowand, maybe...Bengie Molina but that's kind of a stretch...and yep, we're all done.
Other inexplicable events from this day included: a Mets fan two rows behind us (dead ringer for Bobby Valentine when he wore the fake mustache) who unfortunately proved louder and dumber than the entire rest of our section combined; a Giants fan two rows behind him who thought one solitary noise clapper, if employed incessantly for three straight innings, would somehow get everyone fired up rather than extensively annoyed; and the Giants' decision, during the postgame Picnic in the Park for season ticketholders (always a favorite event of ours due to free beer and hot dogs), to feature zoo animals including a baby camel, boa constrictor, and whatever in the world this is:
But the most unanswerable question came from the nice middle-aged lady sitting next to me about a third of the way into the game. She patiently waited for a break in between innings so that I wasn't occupied, then asked, "I really don't mean this in a sarcastic way, but why do you do that?" She was pointing to my scorebook.
I get this every time I come to a Giants game. Usually it's from someone just obnoxious enough who says they can't understand why I would, to which my stock reply is that I don't really understand the people who don't keep score. But this woman was not only kind, but completely serious and totally deserving of a real response.
I trotted out the usual reasons: to have as a keepsake, to help me pay more attention to the game, and as a sort of homage to the old-school way of doing things. But none of those are good enough reasons on their own, really. She wasn't convinced. Then I realized, I wasn't convinced either. Why is it exactly that I do this again?
Laverne and Shirley
Full House
Labels: game reports, milwaukee brewers, san francisco giants, tim lincecum
