A Complete and Utter Fiasco

(BOD - Mrs. Ari)

For the first six innings last night, we were served the pitcher’s duel we had hoped to see in Game 1. In the early innings, CJ Wilson and Matt Cain were nothing short of brilliant. Obviously, as a lefthander, I’m predisposed to cheer for CJ Wilson, but I was mightily impressed by Matt Cain who might be putting together the quietest consecutive scoreless innings streak in the history of the game.

He has now gone over twenty innings without giving up a run in the playoffs. Wilson matched him pitch for pitch, save for an unfortunate belt high fastball that Edgar Renteria powdered high into the San Francisco night. I’m not sure if it was the camera angle, but that home run had one of the most impressive trajectories that I’ve seen all year. It was a complete, no doubt, moonshot.

The game was flying right along; it looked like I would be in bed by 10:30. Then the game went into the seventh inning stretch and all hell broke loose.

First off, I have no problem with the singing of ‘God Bless America’ between the top and bottom of the seventh inning during playoff games. It gets America all jacked up on patriotism hormones and it’s a pretty catchy tune. I typically find myself singing alone.

However, I’ve noticed a disturbing trend with the song this postseason. Every singer turns the song, which should be sung with a respectful reverence, into an embarrassing display of poorly constructed runs and bleating showmanship. Every note is held for three or four beats too long and the overall package is complete mess.

At first, I thought it was the egos of celebrity singers at fault, but then a bunch of no names started the practice as well. Then I realized what was happening. The longer the song, the longer the opposing pitcher has to wait before going to the mound and throwing his warmups. A longer song basically ices the pitcher. A cute ploy, but now it’s getting ridiculous. Enough is enough.

So I had to endure a pretty dreadful rendition last night and then CJ Wilson went back to work, but couldn’t record an out. Why? Because a blister developed on one of the fingers of his pitching hand. Now, here’s where casual ball fans call pitchers pussies and berate them for being weak, but that’s not the case. It’s literally impossible to throw with a blister on your pitching hand. You have no feel for your pitches. So, screw off.

Wilson left, the Giants scored another run, and the game was 2-0 San Fran heading to the bottom of the eighth.

My God. This is where I would normally make fun of David Holland and construct a witty “Ball four, ball eight, ball twelve” Major League reference, but I’m not going to do that. He came into the game and promptly walked three guys on thirteen pitches. The baby-faced Holland looked like he was going to burst into tears on the mound.

I felt terrible for the kid and all pitchers know the fear that was gripping his chest last night. He literally had no idea where the ball was going when he finished his delivery. We’ve all been there at some point (it happened to me once this year) and there is no worse feeling in the world. You are completely helpless at that point.

Ron Washington finished his line of coke in the dugout and mercifully got Holland out of there, only the next guy on the mound for Texas couldn’t throw a strike either. The cameras cut to Nolan Ryan in the stands and he had the look of a cold-blooded killer in his eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if Holland and the other guy were summoned to Ryan’s ranch and subsequently hunted for sport.

Can Texas come back? I’m not sure, as it looks like Destiny is taking off the Giants pants and preparing to service their collective manhood.

Does Cliff Lee come back on short rest?

Lots of questions to be answered. I can’t wait for the weekend.