I started my old blog, "Waiting for Boof", in January of 2003. Since that time, the Giants have been knocked out of the playoffs by the Dodgers on a Steve Finley grand slam. They traded away what turned out to be a dominant closer and the most exciting pre-Lincecum arm in baseball for a weapons-grade jackass. They were eliminated by the Marlins in the playoffs again. And the whole time I've been writing about the Giants, the national focus on the team has been steroids steroids steroids steroids steroids.
Yet, through all of that, I have never had less desire to analyze this team than I do right now. Old guys are hurt, old guys aren't producing. Huge payroll, slap-hitting offense. Bullpen is ehhverage. The rotation is great. I don't care. .500 team at best. .498 team at worst. Russ Ortiz has one of the lowest walk rates on the staff, and that little nugget is the clown dumped in a woodchipper. There is humor to be found in this sadness.
Bonds is slumping, Viz is done. Zito's paid to walk a ton. Linden released, Niekro down, a Rockies sweep in our own town. Sanchez has promise but can't stick. Aurilia groundouts make me sick. `Mando in, pitches hung, two-run jack, fat lady's sung. Hypodermics on the shores, China's under martial law. Rock and Roller cola wars, I can't take it anymore! Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom! You symbiotic, patriotic, slam, but neck, right? Right.
And then there's Lincecum.
Look at him. So excited. So naïve. So hopeful, for whatever reason. There's a 98% chance that the franchise will waste having Cain and Lincecum at the same time. It doesn't matter. It's still fun to watch them pitch.
Lincecum tonight. Today. Whatever. He makes it good to be a Giants fan. Don't screw it up, kid.