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Giants lose to Padres, slip into last place

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"Allow me to slip into something a lot more uncomfortable."

Note: This is the pitcher getting an RBI single with two outs - photo credit
Note: This is the pitcher getting an RBI single with two outs - photo credit
Denis Poroy

Art. This is art.

When you watch a game like this, you're watching it incorrectly if you're getting mad. Angel Pagan had a leadoff single, double, and triple tonight. He never scored. That's not upsetting. That's funny. This is that moment where Al Pacino realizes people are making fun of him, so he takes it up five levels. People making more fun of him? He takes it up 10 levels. That's the 2013 Giants. Stop getting mad at them. They'll just kick it up a notch like Pacino, or Emeril, or a petulant teenager.


It doesn't matter who the hitter is. The Giants' two best hitters this year have been Brandon Belt and Buster Posey. Put a runner on third with fewer than two outs, and they turn into a dehydrated Santiago Casilla. They have good at-bats in different innings. But not after Pagan triples.

The Giants have lost eight of the last nine Madison Bumgarner starts. His ERA in that span: 2.67.

Buster Posey was hurt and had to leave the game. His replacement couldn't get a crucial two-out hit with runners in scoring position.

You can't still be upset, right? This was literally what would happen if there were negotiations between you and the Baseball Gods before the 2012 season.

You: What would it take for another championship?

Baseball Gods: lol

You: No, I'm serious.

Baseball Gods: Oh, man. It'll cost you. Are you sure you want to go down that road?

You: We're just talking, here. Right?

Baseball Gods: Okay, okay, let's see. First off, last place the following year.

You: Naturally.

Baseball Gods: Dodgers win the division.

You: Wait, wait, wait. The Series, too?

Baseball Gods: Out of our hands. But maybe.

You: Fine, whatever.

Baseball Gods: Mind-numbing games. Stupid errors. Ghastly situational hitting. Bullpen failures.

You: Oh.

Baseball Gods: Matt Cain is bad.

You: Nope.

Baseball Gods: Matt Cain is bad for a half.

You: I don't know ...

Baseball Gods: Hope in the beginning of the year. A lot of hope. And then the last place happens. Quickly.

You: That's pretty standard, I guess.

Baseball Gods: Madison Bumgarner is cursed with the Mark of Cain. He'll pitch well, but he'll never win another game. Or something like that.

You: I want Ryan Theriot to score the winning run in the World Series.

Baseball Gods: Oh, that'll cost you. Buster Posey gets hurt if you want that.

You: No.

Baseball Gods: Nothing big. Just a fingernail torn off.

You: Gah. Oh, Buster, I'm so sorry.

Baseball Gods: Oh, wait. Jeff Francoeur.

You: /leaves

Baseball Gods: You'll be back.

Baseball Gods: YOU'LL BE BACK.

Art. Thank you, Giants. You've taught me how to appreciate baseball again. It's all about the negative space. I see that, now.


Heath Hembree had a tremendous debut. This game was a guy in clown makeup streaking a Rotary Club luncheon -- art! -- but Hembree had a tremendous debut. I guess that's like the guy in clown makeup having good hygiene. It could have been worse, alright. It could have been worse.

The fastball wasn't 96 like it used to be, but the slider was nasty, and with every pitch he looked like a pitcher who would give hitters fits on an average day.

The guy in the clown makeup is looking at you.

Oh. Now he's ...

That's a skill, alright. You have to work if you want to do what he's doing now.

Now he's advancing.

Step step step.

Heavy breathing.

Step step step.

But keep closing your eyes and saying "Heath Hembree Heath Hembree Heath Hembree" over and over again. Maybe that will protect you. Maybe.