All you need to know for this game is that Lincecum limped off the field in fifth inning off a come-backer; he later went to get his right knee x-rayed.
We got a few runners home on sac flies as we should to lead 3-2, but we had over a dozen runners left on base. And when Timmy the Kid leaves the game the following facts from last night should be expected:
Yabu retires a side; gets replaced by Hinshaw.
Hinshaw retires a side; gets one out in the 7th, walks someone, gets replaced by Walker. (An eerie note for our OMS Conspiracy: this is a double-switch here, Castillo defensively replacing Hinshaw.) However, please be reminded that at this point the score is still 3-2; the Astros have only two hits all game.
You can guess what happens next.
Walker faces two batters, giving up a hit and two runs; Walker gets replaced by Taschner.
Taschner faces four batters, giving up a GRANDSLAM and a double; replaced by Espineli.
Espineli faces batters, giving up a HR in three pitches first, before getting an out (which was the same batter as the first out of the inning: Michael Bourn), and then finishing the inning.
How good is your scorekeeping? Did you just realize that in 2/3 of an inning, three pitchers gave up 8 runs on 6 hits? In the 8th Hunter Pence had a HR, and Tejada doubled another run home, just to rub it in.
FINAL: 12-4, Houston
Here's the wrap, if you really want to verify this monstrosity. I wouldn't recommend it. What I would recommend is the wrap for Texas v. Boston tonight, the final score of which will floor you.
Not that this game wouldn't do the same thing. Just want you to be happily floored instead.
-MSH
Showing posts with label Walker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Walker. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
How (And How Not) To Get It Done
S.F. is now 1 for 1 when I am at Dodger Stadium. For those who like it straight-up, here's the box and wrap. Thank you; I am quite proud of them, myself. Hence the title.
But the title also implies how not to get things done. And what I was not proud of, visibly and vocally (in an explanative, not expletive, fashion), was further proof of my "(mis)management conspiracy" theory to throw this team into the Bay with player rotation. In addition to Ralph Barbieri's fantastic tirade this afternoon which furthered my post on Lincecum's removal Saturday, I got to witness first-hand what Bochy's idiocy means for this team. More on that later.
We can allow a little indulgence into the good of the game itself, but it was honestly a weird game. Strange. Had a humid "feel" to it's weirdness. First of all, we scored seven runs without first allowing the Dodgers a hit. I was feeling proud of Kevin Correia. Especially since our own run seemed to start when he got a two-run single himself with two outs, after Vizquel struck out chasing (bad) sliders.
I was also feeling proud of the umpires from a biased point of view, because there were three consecutive, very close calls in a row that kept our run-streak alive in the fourth: a plate tag (couldn't see it), Lewis beating a throw at first (did see it and it looked a tie, which means I functionally didn't see it), and Ethier's "catch" in RF hitting the ground before his glove (which I couldn't see for other people in the way). After those were done, we played a contact-hitting game. This is really the only way we score, and it explains why we score in bunches. Think of it like the baseball equivalent to bopping squirrels on the head at an arcade. It's frenzied, and it's erratic, but you get on a roll.
However after the run amazement, and the umpiring amazement (which was not done for the night), came the necessary growing pains of our youth. In the fourth, we almost gave up a run. Bochy left Correia in. OK, maybe. Then in the fifth, the Dodgers actually scored five runs, with no one out. Righetti talks to Correia after the second run comes in. Nice talk. Lewis misfielded what should have been a single, making it a two run double.
Then on a bunt, Bowker starts towards the ball. Too bad the ball had only gone six inches - an easy play for Molina. Except Bowker wasn't at first, and because he was moving back while Molina had the ball, Castillo didn't know whether to stand at first or not. Bowker decided that for him by backing off but too late, and Molina threw it. Why? Who knows. But Castillo, who should have been there to back Bowker up anyway, was not in place for it and lost it entirely. Did I mention that earlier in the inning, Castillo had made an erroneous throw to let Loney on base in the first place? Let me say this: You shouldn't be surprised.
Given that Correia was still in at this point, the following is the second piece of evidence for the mismanagement theory: Castillo at 2B. Excuse me, but you already have Bowker to play 1B, and Rich Aurilia to play at 3B, and sometimes 1B. Castillo can split time at 3B, though everyone in their right mind prefers Richie, which they should. (He was one of the only consistent areas of hope on both sides of the ball tonight - he hit when he had to and fielded where it would be necessary to make the best play. And of course he still has the right spirit about him on the field: gritty, versatile, calculating, and unsung.) The point here is that you've just freed Durham so that Burriss and Velez can grow out of their youth. Castillo has no place at 2B, ever.
The third piece of evidence, and the rest of it actually, is pitching. After giving up five runs in the fifth, Bochy left Correia in to bat, and then in to get one out in the sixth. This was insane; when Correia left, a runner was on second and it was 7-6. Bochy gained nothing by leaving Correia in, except another way to self-destruct his team.
Fourth piece of evidence: bringing in Hinshaw, who has the best ERA in the 'pen, to face one batter. Yes, Hinshaw walked him; yes, lefty-to-lefty is a good matchup; but this was the bottom of the sixth. Let the man finish it out. Romo did that instead, and awkwardly. Romo did not return.
Instead (the fifth piece), Walker was given the ball in the seventh. Yes, Mr.-Blow-It. Did we have luck? Fortunately, yes. But the first out was a mistaken swing at a bad pitch in the dirt, the second out was a fly out, and the third out was Rowand at the track. Kent's hit for that out looked gone to me immediately. Toward any other place in that park except dead-center, it would be. Walker did not do that smoothly, at all.
Then came the fun (no more evidence for this game). Taschner is now the setup man, apparently, and so got the ball in the eighth. (By now, of course, the Giant offense had committed to its default attitude of forcing the pitching to win the game - I believe it possible that we were hitless for the last 5 1/3 innings.) The best out was the second one, because newcomer Casey Blake was called out on a check swing. Now, I don't have a problem with Dodger fans wanting to see it as a bad call; I understand it. But Blake both crossed the plate with his bat, and had his bat angled towards the pitcher - even if just for a split-second, either of those things counts. Blake had done both. I won't argue it, but I was looking right at it, from the first base side, perpendicular to the right face of the plate. Blake argued it, because it was appealed to the 1B umpire, and after going into the dugout was then thrown out for God-knows-what by the home plate umpire. Blake ran from the dugout to the 1B umpire, for a moment as if it were an impending brawl. Welcome to the rivalry, Mr. Casey-At-The-Bat.
Then Torre was there with him; soon - and also inevitably - Torre was thrown out. I understand that you need to stand up for your players, and argue, but getting thrown out when you still have a (very) realistic chance at winning apart from a possible (but not actual) bad call is a huge mistake. The Dodgers never recovered from it, though Torre left to a standing ovation.
Something to further the weirdness was the arrest and manhandling of an errant and surprising fan by four or five security officers, who had to follow the man into the Giants' dugout. It was actually a bit frightening. We were on the 1B side, as I mentioned, and it was an absolute treat to see the boys in orange that close again (the first time in years, actually, because of the proximity to the dugout itself). But it also gave a great view for the man getting cuffed and carried out like a hot dog, being held face-down and parallel to the ground. I have no clue what he wanted, but he had a black jacket on and if he was a S.F. fan, that's completely uncalled for. I can understand if a Dodger fan gets in there because, hey, it's rivalry. But don't do that to your own team when they're losing a huge lead and just barely hanging onto it.
There was also the incident with Vizquel tossing his hat from the dugout to a lucky guy in the premiere box. This poor man then had it taken from him by a security guard so that Vizquel, obviously a little confused, had to give the man a ball instead. What, a player's hat is illegal to give out? Why? "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that could encourage a fan to keep being devoted to the game; I'll make sure not to do that ever again." What's next, no baseballs tossed to fans? I already miss the old-school gray on the under-bill of the cap, for autographing. Idiocy, everywhere. I don't get it.
But all is well that ends well. Brian Wilson is the workhorse of this team right now, without question. At least in his attitude. Aurilia has the attitude, and Lincecum and Cain have it by-default, but Wilson has it every day: the stonefire eyes, the chiseled stance, the passion, tenacity, and hardcore intensity that we've not seen since Nen, and perhaps Beck. For God's sake, the man threw one inning, struck out two, threw over 80% of his pitches for strikes, and hit 100mph or more on the radar at least five times. The man's a human animal.
I love it. I may even adopt his facial hair pattern.
-MSH
But the title also implies how not to get things done. And what I was not proud of, visibly and vocally (in an explanative, not expletive, fashion), was further proof of my "(mis)management conspiracy" theory to throw this team into the Bay with player rotation. In addition to Ralph Barbieri's fantastic tirade this afternoon which furthered my post on Lincecum's removal Saturday, I got to witness first-hand what Bochy's idiocy means for this team. More on that later.
We can allow a little indulgence into the good of the game itself, but it was honestly a weird game. Strange. Had a humid "feel" to it's weirdness. First of all, we scored seven runs without first allowing the Dodgers a hit. I was feeling proud of Kevin Correia. Especially since our own run seemed to start when he got a two-run single himself with two outs, after Vizquel struck out chasing (bad) sliders.
I was also feeling proud of the umpires from a biased point of view, because there were three consecutive, very close calls in a row that kept our run-streak alive in the fourth: a plate tag (couldn't see it), Lewis beating a throw at first (did see it and it looked a tie, which means I functionally didn't see it), and Ethier's "catch" in RF hitting the ground before his glove (which I couldn't see for other people in the way). After those were done, we played a contact-hitting game. This is really the only way we score, and it explains why we score in bunches. Think of it like the baseball equivalent to bopping squirrels on the head at an arcade. It's frenzied, and it's erratic, but you get on a roll.
However after the run amazement, and the umpiring amazement (which was not done for the night), came the necessary growing pains of our youth. In the fourth, we almost gave up a run. Bochy left Correia in. OK, maybe. Then in the fifth, the Dodgers actually scored five runs, with no one out. Righetti talks to Correia after the second run comes in. Nice talk. Lewis misfielded what should have been a single, making it a two run double.
Then on a bunt, Bowker starts towards the ball. Too bad the ball had only gone six inches - an easy play for Molina. Except Bowker wasn't at first, and because he was moving back while Molina had the ball, Castillo didn't know whether to stand at first or not. Bowker decided that for him by backing off but too late, and Molina threw it. Why? Who knows. But Castillo, who should have been there to back Bowker up anyway, was not in place for it and lost it entirely. Did I mention that earlier in the inning, Castillo had made an erroneous throw to let Loney on base in the first place? Let me say this: You shouldn't be surprised.
Given that Correia was still in at this point, the following is the second piece of evidence for the mismanagement theory: Castillo at 2B. Excuse me, but you already have Bowker to play 1B, and Rich Aurilia to play at 3B, and sometimes 1B. Castillo can split time at 3B, though everyone in their right mind prefers Richie, which they should. (He was one of the only consistent areas of hope on both sides of the ball tonight - he hit when he had to and fielded where it would be necessary to make the best play. And of course he still has the right spirit about him on the field: gritty, versatile, calculating, and unsung.) The point here is that you've just freed Durham so that Burriss and Velez can grow out of their youth. Castillo has no place at 2B, ever.
The third piece of evidence, and the rest of it actually, is pitching. After giving up five runs in the fifth, Bochy left Correia in to bat, and then in to get one out in the sixth. This was insane; when Correia left, a runner was on second and it was 7-6. Bochy gained nothing by leaving Correia in, except another way to self-destruct his team.
Fourth piece of evidence: bringing in Hinshaw, who has the best ERA in the 'pen, to face one batter. Yes, Hinshaw walked him; yes, lefty-to-lefty is a good matchup; but this was the bottom of the sixth. Let the man finish it out. Romo did that instead, and awkwardly. Romo did not return.
Instead (the fifth piece), Walker was given the ball in the seventh. Yes, Mr.-Blow-It. Did we have luck? Fortunately, yes. But the first out was a mistaken swing at a bad pitch in the dirt, the second out was a fly out, and the third out was Rowand at the track. Kent's hit for that out looked gone to me immediately. Toward any other place in that park except dead-center, it would be. Walker did not do that smoothly, at all.
Then came the fun (no more evidence for this game). Taschner is now the setup man, apparently, and so got the ball in the eighth. (By now, of course, the Giant offense had committed to its default attitude of forcing the pitching to win the game - I believe it possible that we were hitless for the last 5 1/3 innings.) The best out was the second one, because newcomer Casey Blake was called out on a check swing. Now, I don't have a problem with Dodger fans wanting to see it as a bad call; I understand it. But Blake both crossed the plate with his bat, and had his bat angled towards the pitcher - even if just for a split-second, either of those things counts. Blake had done both. I won't argue it, but I was looking right at it, from the first base side, perpendicular to the right face of the plate. Blake argued it, because it was appealed to the 1B umpire, and after going into the dugout was then thrown out for God-knows-what by the home plate umpire. Blake ran from the dugout to the 1B umpire, for a moment as if it were an impending brawl. Welcome to the rivalry, Mr. Casey-At-The-Bat.
Then Torre was there with him; soon - and also inevitably - Torre was thrown out. I understand that you need to stand up for your players, and argue, but getting thrown out when you still have a (very) realistic chance at winning apart from a possible (but not actual) bad call is a huge mistake. The Dodgers never recovered from it, though Torre left to a standing ovation.
Something to further the weirdness was the arrest and manhandling of an errant and surprising fan by four or five security officers, who had to follow the man into the Giants' dugout. It was actually a bit frightening. We were on the 1B side, as I mentioned, and it was an absolute treat to see the boys in orange that close again (the first time in years, actually, because of the proximity to the dugout itself). But it also gave a great view for the man getting cuffed and carried out like a hot dog, being held face-down and parallel to the ground. I have no clue what he wanted, but he had a black jacket on and if he was a S.F. fan, that's completely uncalled for. I can understand if a Dodger fan gets in there because, hey, it's rivalry. But don't do that to your own team when they're losing a huge lead and just barely hanging onto it.
There was also the incident with Vizquel tossing his hat from the dugout to a lucky guy in the premiere box. This poor man then had it taken from him by a security guard so that Vizquel, obviously a little confused, had to give the man a ball instead. What, a player's hat is illegal to give out? Why? "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that could encourage a fan to keep being devoted to the game; I'll make sure not to do that ever again." What's next, no baseballs tossed to fans? I already miss the old-school gray on the under-bill of the cap, for autographing. Idiocy, everywhere. I don't get it.
But all is well that ends well. Brian Wilson is the workhorse of this team right now, without question. At least in his attitude. Aurilia has the attitude, and Lincecum and Cain have it by-default, but Wilson has it every day: the stonefire eyes, the chiseled stance, the passion, tenacity, and hardcore intensity that we've not seen since Nen, and perhaps Beck. For God's sake, the man threw one inning, struck out two, threw over 80% of his pitches for strikes, and hit 100mph or more on the radar at least five times. The man's a human animal.
I love it. I may even adopt his facial hair pattern.
-MSH
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