A Place To Talk About Giants Baseball

“Numbers rule all things.” ~Pythagoras. There’s a familiar name. I’m sure most of you are well aware of the Pythagorean Winning Percentage developed by Bill James that uses runs scored and runs allowed to tell you if a team has been lucky or not.  Our boys’ record isn’t so hot at the moment. The Giants *should* be 54-42  according to Pythagoras, but it’s not my intention to discuss what our record should or shouldn’t be.

I’m just talking numbers in general. Pythagoras believed numbers have a soul and magical powers. Really? OK. Who am I to argue with the great Greek philosopher and mathematician? Numbers are used in religions, mythology and superstitions all around the world.

In numerology, people born on the 5^th of the month can face certain challenges in their lives. They tend to be impatient and impulsive. They are prone to overindulge their senses in food, alcohol, sex and drugs. They must be careful to protect their health from the excesses of their tastes. I was born on the 5^th. That nail couldn’t have been hit more squarely on its head if you tried.

And then there’s our great game of baseball. Baseball is all about numbers. I remember growing up there seemed to be only two stats: AVG. and ERA. Now? I can’t keep track of half of them. ISO. wRC+. UZR/150. xFIP. A guy could get a headache hanging out on Fangraphs for too long.

Then there’s the deal with the players and their jersey number. We all know how fussy and superstitious they can be about getting “their” number. Jersey numbers have been bought and sold a hundred times over.

So, do you guys have any favorite or maybe even lucky numbers? Do numbers have any meaning, or are they just simple counting symbols? My favorite numbers at the track are 3, 6 and 9 with 6 being my most favorite. Notice I said favorite, I didn’t mention anything about them being lucky.

No. I’m not referring to the Bob Baffert 3yo filly that’s sitting on the tote board at 5/2 at Del Mar. If I were, only Flav and Loo would continue to read on. No. I’m talking about your second choice in favorite teams behind our beloved Giants. Do you even have a second favorite? Maybe there’s one you still follow that you rooted for from your childhood before you were transplanted to the Bay Area. Maybe you enjoy following the new team in your current area after being transplanted away. Maybe you have a relative that plays minor league ball for a certain organization that you like to keep tabs on.

I’ve always had a second favorite team. And although I know it won’t be a popular choice, my second favorite club has always been the New York Yankees. Yes, the dreaded “Evil Empire” themselves. I can hear the booing now. How did the Yanks become my second choice? Allow me to tell you…

When I was about ten or eleven-years-old, Moms and I sat down one afternoon and watched “The Pride of the Yankees.” You know the movie. It starred Gary Cooper, Teresa Wright, and the great Walter Brennan. And who could forget The Babe playing himself. Lou Gehrig? Who the heck was Lou Gehrig? In the next two hours, I would learn his story. I was fascinated by his life as a baseball player, but I was even more deeply moved by his life as a man.

And so I started doing book reports on Lou Gehrig. I wanted to find out more about his baseball career and the disease that took his life at such a young age. That film had a profound effect on me. Funny how some pictures do that. So I wanted to know more. His story has been well documented, and this is not another Lou Gehrig book report, but I wanted to pass along one stat that still boggles the mind. In a three year stretch from 1930-32 Gehrig averaged 170 RBI a season. That’s unbelievable.

And so it began. At a point in life when each time I opened a Topps baseball card pack in hopes of finding a Darrell Evans, Jack Clark or a “Count” Montefusco, with Gehrig and the Yankees fresh in mind, I also started looking for a Graig Nettles, Roy White or if lucky, a Reggie. And they’ve been my second choice ever since.

So you guys know my dream scenario for the World Series. I know some of you are still waiting and wanting, perhaps even needing to avenge that loss back in ’62. Maybe this time our first baseman hits a liner in the bottom of the ninth in Game 7 that just goes over Cano’s head for the clincher. Who will be our first baseman in October? Your guess is as good as mine.

Was it merely an exhibition of baseball’s best players from respective leagues? Or, as Selig and Co. have engrained into our heads since that 2002 fiasco of a tie, a game that really meant something with home field advantage for the World Series on the line?  First off, with each team having to be represented by at least one player, is each squad fielding its very best roster? I don’t think so. Was Huston Street or Bryan LaHair two of the best NL players this first half? Probably not, but the Padres and Cubs needed to be represented. So they were. Those are the rules.  And playing for home field advantage? There are players on each squad every year from teams that don’t have a realistic chance of getting to the playoffs, never mind the World Series. Why should they give a rat’s ass about home field advantage?

But none of those questions seemed to matter once the All-Star Game started. I was just watching another ballgame. It was still the same 90’ between the bases. It was still the same 60’ 6’’ from the mound to home plate. And I found myself blogging away with you guys here on the Flap and checking out Twitter like I would during the Giants and Padres on a Tuesday night in May.  Hell.  I was even checking on my MLB.com All*Star*Bingo Game to see if I’ve won a freebie.

Bottom line: it was just more baseball. And we all know that baseball is meant to be fun. And once the game started that’s all I tried to do.  I had fun watching the game last night. And as our hometown heroes did us proud, I’m sure you had fun too.

Btw, if you guys are wondering why I haven’t brought up the great performances by every one of our Giants All-Stars last night, well, I’ll leave that for you. I wouldn’t want it to be on me to jinx Melky, Pablo, Buster and The Horse to start off the second-half…

We’ve all seen them. Players go out of their way not to touch the foul line. A pitcher has a no-no going late in the game? Players don’t dare talk or sit next to them in the dugout. These are just a few of the most common ones. How about some of the more eccentric even borderline pathological superstitions that baseball has given us.

Most know of Wade Boggs and his obsession of eating chicken prior to every game. Former NL reliever Turk Wendell had to have exactly four pieces of black licorice in his mouth while he pitched. Then Wendell proceeded to spit them out and brush his teeth each time he returned to the dugout. Larry Walker had a thing with the #3. Besides wearing #33 his entire career, Larry would always set his alarm clock to 33 minutes past the hour. Walker even went so far as to get married at, you guessed it, 3:33 PM.

Then there was the strange case of former Indian outfielder Kevin Rhomberg. Rhomberg only played a total of 41 games for the Tribe back in the early ‘80’s, but he used that short time to make a name for himself. Kevin “Touch Me, Touch Me” Rhomberg was his nickname. When touched or tagged on or off the field of play, Rhomberg felt compelled to touch the other person in return. This led to players playing mean-spirited tricks on Kevin. Former teammate Rick Sutcliffe once touched his foot underneath a bathroom stall causing Rhomberg to touch everyone in the clubhouse having not known the culprit.

Now, I’ve made it known that I’m a superstitious person myself. Not Kevin Rhomberg superstitious, but I have my quirks and slight oddities.  Just the other day when Flav spoke glowingly about my Flap fantasy team I knew I was doomed. I purposely had said nary a word for weeks as not to squelch their good fortune. I told Flav that morning thanks for jinxing them. Sure enough, later that night my Pussies had dropped a full 5 pts. in the Flap fantasy standings. Was it just a harmless coincidence?  Maybe so, but my Pussy sure was sore the next morning.

What do you think about ballplayers and their superstitions? Are you Superstitious (IRE) [by Bluebird out of Stellar Empress] yourself? Did I just jinx our red-hot first place Giants and their current 36 IP scoreless streak by broaching this subject? You’ll know who to blame if we’re on the short end of an 11-1 thumping tonight. [no jinx]