There are 28 teams in Major League Baseball that would trade places with the Giants right now. Yet we’re the ones staring at our watches, twitching, passing the time by watching "90210" reruns and getting drunk at 11:00 in the morning. Well, at least I am. This post is one drink away from post being titled, "What Would It Be Like if The Peach Pit Were REAL??" I totally think I’d get a grilled cheese with my first order.
Seven-game series aren’t supposed to be easy. They aren’t supposed to be predictable. The team without homefield advantage shouldn’t expect to win the series at home. Taking the sixth or seventh game is always how it’s supposed to work. And the Giants haven’t lost two games in a row on the road since mid-August, when they dropped two in a row against the Cardinals and two in a row before that to the...
...Phillies. Dammit. We’re all doomed.
Again, we’re caught between two gravitational pulls. One side of your brain knows that a team with a 3-2 advantage is still a substantial favorite in a seven-game series. That’s the side that knows that of the nine times they’ve seen Roy Oswalt and Cole Hamels this season, the Giants have won seven of those games.
The other side is the one that’s had to process Giants baseball for decades. It’s left you scarred and mangled. It’s telling you, see? Told you all of the good stuff was just a prelude to a larger heartbreak.
There isn’t anything more to write about this series until there’s another game played. Pablo Sandoval should still start. Jonathan Sanchez is a bad, bad man. Brian Wilson doesn’t care how many seaboard yokels yell at him. Matt Cain is a fine contingency plan. The Giants need to play .500 baseball over their next two games.
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The waiting game sucks. Let’s play Hungry Hungry Hippos.