It's easy to ignore the human side of baseball when you're a nerd like me. Player X has a BABIP of .423, which means his BA/OBP/SLG will slide when regression drunkenly hits on the mean, so, duh, the Giants should acquire him.
But when a player struggles as badly as Pat Burrell did in Tampa, it's hard to know what's really going on. Burrell was a lifelong Phillie, he wins a World Series, and then the next thing he knows, he's DH'ing under a gross dome. He doesn't know anyone. The fans don't know him, and he starts to slump. And he slumps. And he slumps some more. The seasons is lost, but that's okay because the next season is just around the corner. And he starts the season with another slump. Yeesh.
Some players curl into a ball and retire. Burrell got lucky and got to go to his hometown team. And for the free the Giants are paying him, he just might be the best acquisition of the year, non-Huff division.
So here's to Burrell. Keep feeling comfortable. Say "hella" when you feel like it and listen to some Death Angel. You're home now. And if you can keep hitting those eighth inning go-ahead home runs, that'd be just swell.
It wasn't a game the Giants had to win, but it wasn't not a game they couldn't win.