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I was at the game yesterday, and have the luxury of a couple different angles to write about the win. Upon his arrival in San Francisco, Randy Winn has been hitting for incredible power. Doubles, triples, homers; it's as if someone sent a tape to Brian Sabean of Winn hitting 325-foot fly ball after 325-foot fly ball down the rightfield line of Safeco Field, with a post-it note detailing where the balls would end up in Mays Field. That'd make a good post.

Another interesting aspect of the win was Barry Bonds taking 95-mph heat from a left-handed pitcher he had never seen, and sending it to the water. He might be waddling around the outfield like a toddler with a full diaper, but the bat isn't something to lose much sleep over for next year. We could spend quite a bit of time trying to invent new adjectives for the guy. Incandastical, the man is. Sitting in the left-field bleachers, and springing to my feet, arms raised as a Bonds homer leaves the yard, is something I've done often since the Giants left Candlestick. But after doing it yesterday, if felt like I hadn't done so in a decade. It was like riding a bike, though.

Instead, however, the thing I'll take from the game is a sense of my own mortality. I was very close to being decapitated by a Mike Matheny home run. I don't believe in karma, but I believe in people who believe in karma, and, man, would that have been an insufferable bunch to be around if I had taken a Matheny homer off the noggin. The Dodger fan in front of me caught the ball with his hat, and I was about a foot away from drinking all of my meals for a good long while.

Yes, I was a little harsh when the Giants signed Matheny, and he has been one of the bigger surprises of the year. I still wish Sabean could hit Ctrl-Z on the deal, but that in no way gives Matheny the right to threaten my life. Be warned, Mr. Matheny, that I have a cadre of lawyers at my disposal. Or, if not a cadre of lawyers, access to free legal forms from, and many pens with which to sign them. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.