Post-game thread: Giants torch Kershaw, score run, still lose

When the Giants were clinging to a 1-0 lead, it was like watching Aerosmith rip through one of their classics in 2011. The Giants are out of the race, and Aerosmith isn't relevant anymore, but there was a friendly nostalgia to it. Remember? Remember how it used to be? Remember how this used to be something with a nervous, frenetic energy that used to make you all feel sorts of different emotions? It's not the same as it used to be -- not even close -- but it made you remember what it was like.

You can use whatever band you like, just as long as they're past their prime. You see them crank through an old hit, and if you squint, you remember just how it was exciting back in the day. The Giants were winning 1-0, and it felt like it did last year. For the Giants, we're talking about last year. For Aerosmith, I think their first album was in 1958.

Then the Dodgers scored a run on an infield hit, a bunt, and a 20-hopper through the middle. That was followed by Giant-killer Rod Barajas hitting a single. He was replaced on the bases by Giant-killer Eugenio Velez, who was going to try his Giant killing on a different team this time. A wild pitch and a fielder's choice later, and the Giants had lost.

This is like looking at Steven Tyler and realizing that he looks like Joan Rivers going around the Tilt-A-Whirl at 40 mph with open cans of paint. Nothing's as it should be. Nothing's as it was. This isn't your memory of how things were; this is some creepy, low-rent, past-it's-prime abstraction that they're trying to foist on you. It's horrible. And, wait, this isn't "Sweet Emotion" -- did they turn this into a medley with that shitty song from Armageddon? What is Steven Tyler doing with that handkerchief? And, oh god, is that your mom in the front row? What's Steven Tyler doing to your mom? Oh, god, no. No, no, no.

So that game was like a 78-year-old Steven Tyler making out with your mom as "I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing" is blaring over loudspeakers. You tried to avert your eyes, but you couldn't turn away. You had to watch every last detail. Now your brain is broken, and you're curled in a fetal position, wishing you didn't know what you know now. You want to go back. You want to go back. You want to go back to the way things used to be.

You know that the end of the season is coming. Yes, yes, you know that September 28th is coming. The Giants will host the Rockies, and too moribund teams will slink out into the field and play out the motions. You know this in the same way that you know Steven Tyler will eventually stop performing. Whether it'll be because his teeth fall out, his lips melt, or just plain ol' human mortality, you know there's an end to his awful crimes against humanity. Crimes that used to be thrilling reminders of what it was like to be alive, of what it was like to lose yourself and be entertained. You know that's true for the Giants too.

Those days are gone. It's all horrible now. Those days aren't coming back.

Also, screw that game.

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