The best I've ever seen Wilson pitch was in tonight's at-bat against Edgar Gonzalez. If Wilson can ever harness that slider into something he can throw for strikes (or just below the strike zone) consistently, he'll be almost unhittable.
That doesn't mean that he needs to throw twenty sliders in every inning, though. If the animated corpse known as Brian Giles gets a hit off a 98-MPH fastball, well, you shrug your shoulders and chalk one up to bad luck. BUT FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, YOU DO NOT NEED TO THROW A 3-2 SLIDER TO THE ANIMATED CORPSE KNOWN AS BRIAN GILES. What in the holy hell was that about? Wilson blew the game, and he did it with supreme fail, but whoever thought that slider was a good idea needs to sit in a corner and think about what they've done.
But what a game! Not the baseball part -- that was unspeakably awful -- but did you see the rare sighting of a transitional hitter! Amazing! Splendid!
Oh, you don't know about transitional hitters? When Jesus Guzman stepped to the plate for his first major league at-bat, he was a powerful, red-hot slugger. He smoked a ball up the middle with a runner on third and one out...and it hit the mound, and went right into a double play. Poof! We witnessed a rare transitional hitter! The talented hitter from the minor leagues emerged from his magnificent chrysalis into a fully formed suck butterfly wearing a Giants uniform. It's so rare to see it live. We're so blessed.
And I'm loving the 375-foot singles. Just amazing.
Did that post-game guy just say that he didn't know that Petco Park had a reputation of keeping balls in the park? Good gravy....
And, oh, yes. Scott Hairston. If jock itch could sleep with your wife, there might be something found in nature that could compare with Scott Hairston. Like, you come home, and throw your keys on the coffee table, and you here a noise, and you creep toward the bedroom door, push it open, and OH GOD, JOCK ITCH IS SLEEPING WITH MY WIFE. That's Scott Hairston. Why didn't I just turn off the TV when he came up against Wilson? Why didn't I just turn on Call of Duty 4 and shoot virtual 12-year-olds in the head to make myself feel better?
If you need me, I'll be exhuming the grave of Abner Doubleday so I can set his bones on fire and dance on the ashes. Screw this abhorrent game.