The Dodgers don't "feel comfortable" here, and that’s not why they’ve had recent success in San Francisco. The Dodgers have some sort of ability to psyche out the Giants. The Dodgers have been able to get two-out hits that the Giants haven’t. There’s no secret formula to it. When Casey Blake hits his home run, it’s with a runner on and two outs. When Pat Burrell hits his, it’s with no one on and four-run deficit. There’s no theme. There’s nothing especially predictive to be found from the previous series, just as there isn’t from the series the Giants just took in Los Angeles.
If I really believed that, it wouldn’t explain why I’ve chewed my nails down to the cuticles thinking about this series. I don’t exactly have Kevin Elster vibes, but I don’t not have Kevin Elster vibes. In the past, I’d probably think that the last home series against the Dodgers was our Han-in-carbonite moment. It was our darkest moment. All hope seemed lost. But then I’d hope for the heroes to rally and defeat the orcs or ninjas or aliens or Russell Martins. That’s the traditional paradigm. We’re inherently good, they’re inherently evil. If movies are our guide, we should triumph sometime in the third act.
Except I’ve been a naive little twit all of these years. This isn’t a George Lucas film, here. This isn’t a Frank Capra feel-good flick. We’re living through Oscar-bait, and the paralyzed boxer will die. We’re living through a nihilistic nightmare, and we’re going to find the head of the detective’s wife in a box. We’re in a slasher flick, and nothing will be resolved because they’ve already started filming the sequel. This is everything but a by-the-numbers, uplifting romp. The Giants could win three, or they could lose three. They could win two, but lose one in such a horrific fashion that the series would end with Tommy Lee Jones talking about a dream he had, and we’d be all, wait, how should we feel right now? What did that all mean?
Actually, if Pablo could grow a beard, he’d look a little like an Ewok. So there’s that.
You know, to be honest, I don’t know about all this. Now I’m kind of wary about tying this whole thing into Hollywood. That place sucks.
Hitter to watch:
Alright, wait, if this were a feel-good film, it would probably end with Buster Posey doing something awesome. Like, he’d score the winning run by knocking the ball out of Russell Martin’s glove, and he’d stand over Martin right before the Giants rushed the field, and he’d say something like "You’ve been...Busted." Or he’d throw out both of the runners attempting a double steal, and then say, "Crime just doesn’t pay fellas" with a calm half-smirk. Or he’d gun someone down and say "I ain’t having it...I ain’t having it" as he looked disgusted that he had to play with all of these ridiculous mortals.
Yeah. Something like that. Posey is always the hitter (and fielder) to watch. He’s so handsome. Wait, did I type that or just think it? I meant to type he’s "exciting" not "handsome." It’s kind of funny how that typo turned out, right? Hahaha. Heh. Ahem.
Keeping with tradition, though, I’ll pick an opposing player. Let’s go with Scott Podsednik. Because there’s no way that some slap-monkey with speed is going to drive the Giants up the wall by stealing bases and bunting for base hits and prolonging an inning by 15 minutes just because he was able to flip a ball to right field on accident, right? That’s just not logical. So let’s all watch him do none of those things, as the Giants just have great success with guys like that.
Pitcher to watch:
George Sherrill. Please? Please, Joe Torre? Can we watch George Sherrill? Can we? Man, I’m hoping to watch him in three straight games. Now that guy is a pitcher to watch!
Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea.