I got nothin' today. Giants win, Dodgers lose. Do you need some sort of hastily concocted pop-culture metaphor to help you understand it? Giants win, Dodgers lose. This doesn't need to be compared to Oprah and Steadman, or the Battle of Algiers; it was simple and beautiful. The Giants scored runs, the bullpen prevented them. The heroes were unlikely, and the outcome was favorable. To quote my mother: happiness is knowing you can't get swept by the Dodgers.
Jason Schmidt looked great, even if he labored quite a bit to get through five innings. The fastball was crisp, and the changeups he was throwing to Hee Seop Choi were demonic. If Schmidt tossed his first pitch of the game out there at 88 mph, there would have been a lot of tears. Not the case, though. The Schmidt roller coaster had us thinking about labrum tears and rotator cuffs just a short while ago. Maybe the layoff will serve as a wake-up call to Felipe Alou, reminding the skipper of his ace pitcher's mortality. There are times and places where extending your star pitcher is appropriate. Jason Schmidt was never in one of those situations; at least, not this year. But his arm seemed no worse for the wear last night. That puts a gag order on the whining.
Comment starter: I've had an idea for a McCovey Chronicles shirt for a while, even going back to the Boof days. It goes like this: