A Place To Talk About Giants Baseball

As we all know, ain’t nobody alive got into the HOF this year. The dreaded PED suspicious possible infractions. But next year, our beloved porn-stach Jeff Kent will finally be up for induction. The SFChron posed a question today.

Will the fact that he was bringing up more testing and wanted to include blood layouts for Human Growth—what’s the word? Enhancement? No. That’s not it.

But the question is–will Kent be a first vote inductee based not only his numbers (which are outstanding for a 2nd baseman) but also for his advocacy of testing and flat out delivering major denuncements and possible elimination from participation in the game after a 3rd infraction?

Will this, by itself, negating his wondrous numbers as a second baseman, cause the journalists, or the BBWRADSWAQI or whatever that acronym is to automatically vote him in?

First off, I suppose I need to apologize to Nipper. Because this will be long. When Big Flavor asked to take my place yesterday, 2 things came to mind. First, hey, it’s Big Flavor’s blog, I’m just an apostle. Who am I to argue? Second, for Big Flavor to even ask such a thing, it meant he had something special. And lo, it twas to be. Flavor’s post yesterday was poetic, magical, inspiring and in good English. So once again, I’m here to put a stop to that.

What a confidence building game yesterday.

Not for the Giants, for me.

I’ll keep this fairly short. The only minor complaint was Zito. Man, 2 and 2/3 innings??!! Not a surprise just a complaint. And *still* the Giants keep up the uncanny “Zito Win Streak” (cue the TWILIGHT ZONE theme).

And did I does or does I didn’t ask youse all to stop talking smack about Lincecum? I believe I does. Just as I earlier asked ya’ll SHHAADDUPP!!! On Pablo Sandoval!!!

And what’s with Pagan? I mean, I always liked him but he sure flexes his All-Star plays in a timely manner. Who the fuck does he think he is? A more talented Cody Ross? And the whole offense after 3 games. Looks like the ex-lax finally kicked in. I’m not sure giving Posey the proverbial 1^st base “day off” did anyone any good but at least it didn’t backfire.

Now–Men and ferrett– all this stuff you’ve heard about Giants not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the further post season, is a lot of horse dung. Giants traditionally love to fight. All real Giants love the sting of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, big league ball players, the toughest boxers. Giants fans love a winner and will only reluctantly tolerate a loser. The Giants play to win all the time. I wouldn’t give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That’s why The Giants have never really lost, and will never really lose a playoff series… because the very thought of losing is hateful to The Giants!!!!

Not saying it *can’t* happen cuz baseball is baseball. But the never say never attitude is so prevelant–it practically reeks.

That’s right, reeks…reeks? Wait a minute. I think I’m melting cheese in the oven. Hold on….

Okay, breakfast is ready. Anyway–CAIN vs. Lactose Intolerant

Flappers. Giants. All the way!!!

SEMPER FAI, MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!! HOOO-WAHHHHH!!!!

Bruce Bochy said Tim Lincecum will pitch as scheduled Sunday and that Hector Sanchez will catch him which means Sanchez will catch Lincecum in the post season as well.

The thought, the very *thought* of the potential NL MVP and probable batting title winner in only 50% of the post season games. At least as catcher. HOLY SHIT!!

A lot has been discussed here, mostly vitriolically negative, about putting Posey at first or sitting him when Lincecum and Zito pitch and having Sanchez behind the dish. Common sense rationales for this move have been offered (Lincecum’s erratic/jazzy style is too much punishment on a catcher of Posey’s value and still healing body), excuses have been put forth (Sanchez needs playing time and, hell, it’s not like he’s hitting the Mendoza line) conflicted personalities have been entertained (Posey=Jimmy Stewart/Lincecum=Keith Moon) and, of course, solutions have been delicately proposed (TIMMY AND BUBBLES NEED TO JUST FUCKING MAN UP!!!).

I’ve been pretty neutral myself. Yes, replacing Belt at 1st with Posey and putting him in left takes away our best defense situation. But I see Sanchez playing like a major leaguer. Look at his B/A, his putout AVG and he certainly isn’t losing any games for the Giants. Look at the Zito/Giants record in his last 10 starts as was brought up in the thread yesterday and up till his last start’s brain fart, Lincecum’s looked good since the AS break and mostly who the hell am I to question Bochy?

But another thing, and I’m not sure about Zito, but if I recall Posey *was* catching Lincecum when the season started. Up to about mid-June and Lincecum…sucked. Always on baseball teams when something doesn’t seem to be working they shake things up a little bit and that’s when the whole Sanchez thing started. It didn’t work any miracles at first but as noted since the AS break, it seemed to smooth its way out pretty good so maybe Bochy just doesn’t want to mess with any mojo. Remember, baseball is a hugely uncertain sport from pitch to pitch for everyone involved and therefore hugely superstitious. I read an article by George Gmelch on this subject talking about the famous routines of the past (Boggs and his chicken diet, Glenn Davis chewing the same piece of gum during a hitting streak, Turk Wendell wearing a necklace of teeth from animals he’d killed). Hell, even in 2010 Huff had his rally thong and Wilson and Romo with the beards. There’s the taboos (never saying “no-hitter”), the “lucky” numbers (when Ricky Henderson came to the Blue Jays he paid Turner Ward $25,000 for the right to wear #24).

So as illogical and unscientific as it is and as dull and pragmatic as Bochy always appears, there’s as good a chance as any that he’s just being superstitious on this matter. It might be something just that silly. The Magic What Is Baseball.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wDZFf0pm0SE

And lest we forget–FLAPALOOZA 2.0 TONIGHT!!!

Be there or be square. Me? I can be neither, either or both. Go figure.

Perhaps ya’ll don’t believe in God or Satan. No problem. I’m a borderline athiest myself. Often called an agnostic. Which kind of comes off as a pussy not willing to make a committment one way or the other. But baseball? Of all things it makes me believe, in the least, of a higher being.

All sports are always iffy game to game. But baseball holds not only a legacy stronger than any other sport in America but a passion amongst its fans that closely embraces a religion. Granted, the “Religion of Baseball” was already discussed in the film BULL DURHAM, but I’m going different than that.
Or not. We’ll see.
See, baseball is the weirdest sport based on the odd qualities or lack thereof that still allows something along of excellence in their sport. Gentlemen exceed in this sport who have the physical ability to barely get out of the fucking bullpen after their fourth beer and seventh chicken wing to come in and get that save. GOTSTA be a deal with the devil. And we love, or at the very least, respect these creatures that would be more than welcome to the Gates of Hell (for those of ya’ll that enlist in the qualifications). Historically Ty Cobb was a wiry, talented, outstanding baseball superstar but, no question, would have fought with General Lee’s side in the 1860’s. Babe Ruth was a fat fucking tub of goo who hit more HR’s personally than other teams, repeat, entire teams in any given year. The Black Sox Remember them?
Baseball kept blacks out as long as forever and only allowed hispanics in if their skin was slightly…paler.
Bennies. Pete Rose. Pine par. The steroid era, for lack of a better term, created more possible villians than any time in the greatest statistical period in the game’s history.

And yet, we still… watch, follow, live and die on a day to day basis for our boys of summer.
Meanwhile…Satan laughs away.

Baseball is Satan’s favorite sport. Satan, at least once in his quarterly lunch meeting with God…brings up baseball.
With Satan, as usual, constantly touting the fucking Yankees.

And God always ended the meetings with a smirk. Though it was just a touch different at their first lunch in 2011.

God said “Sorry, Scratch. Coudn’t help it. I know your second favorite city has always been San Francisco. For all the wrong, stupid reasons. Well..it’s alway been my favorite city. For all the rightious reasons. I was just fucking with you all this time.”
And God downed his glass of pinot noir, winked, grabbed his fedora and said, while lighting his Cuban, “I’ll give ya 2011. See ya in 2012”

Disappointing and long game last night. Oh well. Nothing changed in the standings and the boys of San Francisco never gave up. CSNBA’s after game analysis however? In a word. Flatulent. And someone needs to slap the “smug” right off Greg Papa’s face.

Also, I caught the post game wrap show and it dawned on me that it’s actually kind of annoying to watch as well.You know, when Krup and Kuip and Miller and Fleming do their little run-downs and players of the game on TV. Especically annoying is Duane Kuiper who seems to be wishing he were anywhere else, waving at someone off camera– looking off with a distant glance signaling some dingo with his mic like he’s guiding some child’s remote control plane for a landing.

That being said, for whatever reason I *do* enjoy listening to this shtick on the radio. Go figure.And so we shall.

Don’t get me wrong, modern television is an amazing thing. Matt Cain’s perfect game was the first one I’d ever seen and I would have missed it if it weren’t for television. But still modern TV sports coverage, especially when it’s on FOX…SUX. And a lot of modern sports radio can be downright wrenching.

But there’s still something about baseball on the radio.

I know a number of us have mentioned before that as kids we would watch TV with the sound down and listen to the game on the radio. But now 21st Century broadcasting’s so convoluted you can’t do that anymore as the timing’s off by a few seconds (unless you want to get all clever with TIVO or something). And even today, when a game is especially tense like last night and I’m legally sober, sometimes I’ll turn off the TV, jump in the car and drive around listening to the game. It has a certain calming effect on me.

Maybe I’m just nostalgic but there was something that seemed a little more pure in my youth with the whole radio/baseball connection. And it wasn’t just for listening to games. There seemed to be a lot of shows just talking about baseball and sports in general on the radio before they became forums for the listening audience to call in doing what often enough comes off as an unintentionally bad Dennis Hopper imitation:

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Marty Lurie: Okay, we’ve got Pinhead on the line. Go ahead, Pinhead. What’s on your mind?

Pinhead: Yeah, man, like Bochy, man? What are they gonna say about him? What are they gonna say? That he was a kind man? That he was a wise man? That he had plans, man? That he had wisdom? Bullshit, man!

Marty Lurie: Interesting thoughts, Pinhead. Are you referring to any strategies or moves in particular? Can you be more…

Pinhead: All nine innings, man, all nine innings! One through nine, no maybes, no supposes, no fractions. You can’t travel in space, you can’t go out into space, you know, without, like, you know, uh, with fractions – what are you going to land on – one-quarter, three-eighths? What are you going to do when you go from here to Venus or something? That’s dialectic physics.

Marty Lurie: Okay, okay. Good thoughts. Good thoughts. I think I see where you’re going with this. So tell me do you….

Pinhead: And he’ll just walk right by Brandon Belt, man. He won’t even notice him. And suddenly he’ll grab him, and he’ll throw him in a corner, and he’ll say, “Do you know that ‘if’ is the middle word in life? If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you, if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you”… I mean Belt and Crawdaddy, Crawfish, Crawford and Whitey and Panda and fucking giraffes and fucking Melk-Maids and Maidens and fucking Timmy and perfect games and.. and me, man… no, I can’t… I’m a little man, I’m a little man, he’s… he’s a great man! I should have been a pair of ragged claws, crawdaddy claws, scuttling across floors of silent seas…

Marty Lurie: All right, then, uhm, yeah I get it… good call Pinhead, good call. A lot of good points. A lot of things to think about but we have to move on with some other callers…

Yes. Love today’s TV. Love today’s radio. Mainly due to immediate access to facts and stats. Still. Radio was much better in the good old days. Even *before* our days. In that vein, I now leave you with an excerpt from the underappreciated Woody Allen film RADIO DAYS:

“Hello, sports fans and welcome to today’s edition of Bill Kern’s ‘Favorite Sports Legends.’ Today’s story is about a baseball player. His name was Kirby Kyle, a lean southpaw from Tennessee. He played for the old St. Louis Cardinals. He threw fast, and he had a good curve ball and all the hitters knew it. He was a kid with a great future.

But one day, he went hunting. He loved to hunt, just like his father and his father’s father. Chasing a rabbit, he stumbled, and his rifle went off. The bullet entered his leg. Two days later, it was amputated. They said he would never pitch again. But the next season, he was back. He had one leg but he had something more important. He had heart.

The following winter, another accident cost Kirby Kyle an arm. Fortunately, not his pitching arm. He had one leg and one arm, but more than that, he had heart. The next winter, going after duck, his gun misfired. He was blind but he had instinct as to where to throw the baseball. Instinct…and heart.

The following year, Kirby Kyle was run over by a truck and killed. The following season, he won 18 games in the Big League in the sky. This has been Bill Kern with another ‘Favorite Sports Legend.’”

Nope. This is not a thread about Willie Mays. But he came to mind right away, yes? Because it’s part of the “Language of Baseball”, today’s topic. I’ve refered to this before but today it’s a topic. As for last night’s game, another Cainsterpiece. The pen was a touch scary but I’m getting used to it. A little. Arias was poppin’ right off the bat (?) so confidence was high right away and there’s few things more heartening than a sweep of the Dodgers

Now back to the topic. First the Giants have a lot of great nicknames in their lexicon. Stretch, The Count, Will the Thrill, Jack the Ripper. Even today’s players: The Freak, Panda, et.al (although I’ve never really been crazy about “Panda”). And some nicknames that have died in shame and shall be spoken no more (Melkman). Even Big Flavor’s name of this blog is part of the “Language of Baseball”. Not a nickname per se but we all know immediately as of whom it refers. And yes, another guy with a great nickname.

But, again, nicknames are a only part of “The Language of Baseball”. Baseball terms and certain vernaculars that everyone around here simply assumes everyone else knows. But sometime we forget that not everyone can give you a knowing-dude-head-nod. If I were to say to my mom “The last time Mahatma Kane Jeeves came up for a cup of coffee, he went yard his first AB” she’d think he decided to sit outside at Starbucks. Al fresco.

Mendoza Line anyone? Walk-off homer? The battery? Cycle? Ducks on the pond? Infield fly rule? Can of corn? And just who is this Tommy John and why is everyone having his surgery?

And the plethora of stats. Used to just be RBIs and ERAs. Now it’s oWAR. dWAR. oRAR. OBP. SLG. IBB. waaWL. OPS. OB/GYN. My personal favorite, WHIP. There’s that charming sabermetric term NERD. I say let’s keep Robert Carradine out of this. His dad and older brother were the legends.

There’s all sorts of nutty terms that some of us take for granted but some are, like, *really* obscure. Pop quiz, hotshots. Who can tell me what a “Golden Sombrero” is without giggling?

Here’s a favorite of mine. “Pythagorean Expectation”. Makes me think that, yes, even dinosaurs needed happy endings.

Then there’s the sayings or catchphrases that we all know but some no longer count. “Curse of the Bambino”? “The House That Ruth Built”? Memorable but both null and void today. “The Boys of Summer”? A Don Henley song. However there’ve been some additions in recent years (“There’s no crying in baseball” or “That one had some hair on it”)

We all know the annoying “Tomahawk Chop” but did ya’ll know there’s a “Baltimore Chop”?

How about the “Hot Stove League”? That’s us Flappers. A group of jamolks who, between seasons, still can’t stop talking baseball.

“Sistema Peralta”? Something pawlie brought up earlier this year about handling a pitching staff kinda like they do during the All-Star Game. Basically, splitting nine innings between three pitchers, three innings each.

It’s a little nuts but it’s all part of the mystique. Any cool favorites I left out? Leave us know.

Be the first to give us a…”quality start”

Who’s that mook from Philidelphia?
Oh yeah. Pence. Frickin’ Pence. 3 run dinger yesterday. Am I happy? Am I happy? Sure. I mean…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-OYKd8SVrI

But I also have that “about frickin’ time” feeling. At least I’m not getting Beltran flashbacks like when last year Bochy actually sat him near the end of the season so he could secure his .300 average. Sweet. Whatta guy. See you in St. Louis.But nothing like that is gonna happen with Pence.

I could write about the Giants win last night, stopping a season worst 5 game slide…but I won’t. I could make some asinine arguement about TIMMY’S BAAAAAACK…but I won’t. I could make some pithy comments about the Hunter Pence trade (seriously, see ya Nate. Thanks for 2010. God bless ya and good luck, chief)…but I won’t. I could mention the fucking Dodgers lost thus putting the Giants in 1st place SOLO…SANS COMPETITION…but I won’t.

No, you gentlemen(?) will certainly cover all those bases (rimshot) as the day goes by just as we all did last night. So I will simply go where I wish to go this morning.

The last time I did one of these things the subject was actors who looked like they could really play pro-baseball. Being the unimaginative twit that I am, today will be the opposite. Baseball players who look like they can really be actors. On that last thread some Flappers already brought up pro-baseball players who achieved good careers in film and TV. Namely Bob Uecker, Chuck Connors and Kurt Russell. But the facts show the successful crossover is extremely rare. Football players thrive better in this area for whatever reason. I have my theories but that would make this thread go on forever.

Now, other Flappers mentioned Babe Ruth playing himself in THE PRIDE OF THE YANKEES. What a lot of people don’t know is that The Bambino actually had a short but respectable film career as an actor while he was still a ballplayer. Sure, he always played a guy named Babe Ruth who was a baseball player but “playing yourself” in movies isn’t as easy as it sounds. It’s not like being yourself for an interview. You have to memorize your lines, pick up your cues, know your blocking, be prepared for multiple takes, etc. but primarily to be good you also have to appear natural. As much as I love Sergio Romo (Monday’s game not withstanding) and his little Giants game promos, they *are* a little awkward (that’s actually a lot of their charm). As game as Romo is, he’s a bit stiff, mannered and obviously out of his element. And Brian Wilson. Despite his obvious love of the spotlight, frankly he looks a bit stiff in all his media appearances as well. In fact, only Buster Posey shows a certain amount of natural presence in his spots.

Willie Mays appeared as “himself” on the occasional sitcom. Probably the best was a cameo on BEWITCHED and the joke was the reason he was so good was because he was a witch himself. And I’m sure you all remember the SEINFELD two part episode with Keith Hernandez. Now HE was good. That’s a guy that who took an acting lesson or two. And he’s also been on LAW AND ORDER and a couple other things.

No, most of these guys are one-offs, mainly because they all suck(ed) as actors. Sandy Koufax on DENNIS THE MENACE, Wade Boggs on CHEERS, Mark McGwire on MAD ABOUT YOU, Johnny Bench on THE PARTIDGE FAMILY. Yogi Berra, Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris got to share some screen time with Doris Day and Cary Grant in THAT TOUCH OF MINK delivering striking performances (with apologies to Dorothy Parker) that ran the gamut of emotions, from A to B. Former Giant Royce Clayton just played former Giant Miguel Tejada in MONEYBALL and did just okay. Even managers try to get in on the act. Sparky Anderson on W.K.R.P., Leo Durocher with the hat trick appearing on MR. ED, THE MUNSTERS and THE BEVERLY HILLBILLIES. Trust me..ain’t NO ONE gonna ask Bochy to say a few lines on HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER.

But no one besides Uecker, Connors and Russell seemed to have been able to make a career of it. Don Drysdale did pretty well in the acting arena and showed a natural affinity playing in everything from LEAVE IT TO BEAVER and THE BRADY BUNCH to THE RIFLEMAN and THEN CAME BRONSON. Quite a few appearences. But still…primarily a ballplayer.

However, I am grossly neglecting one guy…

Johnny Berardino!!!

11 years in the big leagues, the Show for crying out loud, with the St. Louis Browns, the Indians and the Pirates. Sonavabitch also took 3 years outta baseball to be in your World War II!!!! a FUCKING WAR HERO!!! (it was a big war, a major war, we went in to win, we wanted to win..we won) and still an acting career that lasted between 1948 and 1993!!! Including 30 years alone on GENERAL HOSPITAL!!!

I didn’t mention him till now because, well frankly, I didn’t think anyone, with maybe the exception of Loo and/or twin, would even know who the hell this numbnut was.

Ya’ll know me. I could have gone on forever so I left a lot of guys out. Did I miss any of your favorites? Or better yet, what major league baseball player *really* dropped a steaming load of horse manure on celluloid?

Okay, get that glassy eyed, I need more coffee expression off your face. Just bear with me for a minute.

The last few days, these intros to The Flap have been filled with prologues encompassing heartfelt emotions, statistical anomolies, anecdotes, stats, amusing pondries and pure class…bottom line? Quality.
And for all you loyal Flappers out there expecting same, allow me to assure you—this comes to a screeching halt right now.
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Such are the stuff that dreams are made when a blog goes AWOOOOGAHHHHHH and hence the blog Pappa says…I’M BEAT and beseaches “Willies, Mays and McCovey, why hast thou forsaken me?? I loveth thee and ask only for thine assistance.”
And, as begotten… the disciples didith come upon the pained wretch what wasith a Flav and askedeth “How mighteth we heal thee, oh Flav?”
And the Flaveth answered “I’m freaking beat! Dids’t thou not heareth me??!!”
But the disciples sayid “NAY oh Flav NAY!! The Flappeth cannot be done. Who shall giveth the Posey OBP?! Who wouldst giveth the Sandoval weight of stones?! Who wantonly should summon the expected DJLoo POTD?!”

Big Flavor pondered, wracted and reeked with guilt of betraying his nation whilst stilleth thinking “What the fuck have any of these assholes done for me?”