This FanPost is dedicated with much respect to my favorite baseball writer, Grant Brisbee, whose characteristically witty observations of May 3, 2012 -- exactly six months ago as I write this -- were absolutely spot-on at the time that he made them. Who knew? Who could have known?
One of these years, the pendulum will swing back, and we'll be watching a team like the 2001 team -- all-hit, little-pitch -- and someone will think back to this time with low-grade nostalgia. Please link to this post to remind them of how horrible it is watch a team that can't hit. Take me with you, future person. Take me with you.
Brandon Crawford needs to be magic on defense to have any utility. Sparkling. Absolutely magic. He cannot be good. You can stick with the good defense for a while, hoping it can transform into magic, but good isn't good enough. Clanky, wretched defense? Nah. I'll put up with that for exactly two games. Which it's been. The Brandon Crawford bandwagon was already a broken Power Wheels Jeep being pulled by a burro. Now the burro is dead. An opossum is chewing on the dead burro and actually pulling it backwards. You don't have to get off, but I hope you don't have any appointments. It'll be a while.