clock menu more-arrow no yes mobile

Filed under:


As a joke, the I'm-taping-the-game-so-don't-tell-me-score-gag has been done. "Seinfeld", Fever Pitch, and "Scrubs" all did it well, so I won't bore you with the details of my day. All I wanted was to get home without knowing the final score, and I accomplished that after several trials. But when I got there, right before I was about to start the game, I picked up a text message from my phone:

"Gettin ugly"

Then you have to start wondering what constitutes "Gettin ugly." Is gettin ugly something that you could possibly text someone in the ninth inning of a tie game? Or does it mean that the Giants are blowing the other team out soooooo bad that you actually start to worry about the fragile psyches of the other team?

Nope. It means what it means. Gettin ugly. Willie McGee in a diaper ugly. So it begins.

  1. Barry Zito doesn't look odd in a Giants uniform. It works. Ryan Klesko looks freaky. I like the signing, but it doesn't work. As long as he keeps hitting into first-pitch double plays, though, he'll eventually fit in just fine.
  2. Pedro Feliz is still my least favorite player to watch from the past decade. The line between rational dislike and irrational hatred is now completely indistinguishable in my own mind. Is Cla Meredith good enough to get other hitters to chase that 3-2 sinker nine feet off the plate? Or is Feliz just that bad and there is no hope and the team is doomed and I can't believe this team really plans to give him 600 plate appearances? Feliz is a complete failure of imagination on the part of any general manager who thinks he could be of any use to a starting lineup.
  3. Heath Bell would probably be our best reliever.
  4. The game in summary: The bullpen wasn't good, the lineup was awful, the bazillion-dollar ace was okay-not-great, and I don't like watching Pedro Feliz play baseball. That has the potential to be a season in summary.
  5. I hate the overreacting that comes with Opening Day, but I can't help it. Wipe the pain from our mind like a fifth of scotch, Matt Cain.