Before tonight, I'd seen Buster Posey catch a few games -- an FSU game on TV, two in San Jose, and two San Jose televised games. And I'm ashamed to say that I didn't really notice him defensively until he tried to throw out a runner. I guess I'm a pitchercentric fellow. But when the great Posey freezeout of Aught-Nine started to get nasty, a small part of me wondered if I was more than a little ignorant about Posey's catching skills. Maybe he was really that raw. Maybe Posey behind the plate was the equivalent of Todd Hundley in left field.
No. I was right. The "Posey doesn't know how to call games/frame pitches/chew with his mouth closed"-crowd was wrong. You can't see it, but I'm making obscene gestures at them right now. There's no way the Giants need to allocate 5% of a tight payroll to Bengie Molina to act as an organizational woobie. Posey Posey Posey.
Also, Posey.