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If the Giants could start hitting, that would be swell ...

The Giants are doing well in the postseason, and it doesn't make a lot of sense when you look at how they've hit.

Jasen Vinlove-USA TODAY Sports

In the 2014 postseason, the San Francisco Giants are hitting a collective .245/.305/.302. That's a .607 OPS. They've hit two home runs in 298 plate appearances and just 10 extra-base hits at all. Not only have they've been powerless, but they've hit .197 with runners in scoring position, too.

The Giants this postseason have hit like Matt Duffy did in the regular season ... except they've hit like a supremely unclutch Matt Duffy. Nine little Matt Duffys, running around, swinging with their eyes closed once runners get on base. That's no way to win a World Series, folks.

Except, those numbers are skewed. They include the eight-run bombardment in the Wild Card Game. That game actually happened, you know, so it's bad math to exclude it from the overall postseason numbers. Did somebody say bad math? Oh, man, I'm so in. Here's the Giants since the Wild Card Game: .238/.290/.289, with one homer and a .167 average with runners in scoring position. That's not 2014 Matt Duffy. That's 2014 Joaquin Arias.

Since the start of the National League Division Series, the Giants have hit like a collection of nine Joaquins Arias.

Wait, no. They've hit like a collection of nine Joaquins Arias who are even slightly worse with runners in scoring position.

The purpose of this barrage of shameful numbers is twofold: First, look at where the Giants are. They're in the NLCS, and they're in decent position. Of five possible remaining games, the Giants are guaranteed three at home. They essentially have home-field advantage in a best-of-five NLCS. That's insane. They've hit like drunken utility infielders, yet they're just three wins away from the World Series.

Second, the Giants should probably start hitting if they want to make (and possibly win) the World Series. Any day now, fellas. Any day. It's kind of neat when you mosey over to and see that every member of the current Giants lineup has an adjusted OPS over the league average. Maybe the park effects are a touch off, and maybe some of the other nerd stats aren't quite as convinced. But by one metric, the Giants have average-or-better hitters in every spot of the lineup, and that accounts for Angel Pagan and Michael Morse's replacements.

Which means nothing if the Giants can't hit.

Hit, dang it. Hit.

The Giants are trying something different, something radical.

Yes, that's Brandon Crawford swapping spots with Travis Ishikawa. Which ... probably isn't going to make much of a difference. It's something, though. Hit, dang it. Hit.

The Cardinals are countering with known dickears, A.J. Pierzynski.

The Giants hath slain the Victorio. They hath slain the Latos. Their quest is eternal, though, and fraught with peril. This is but another test. This, my friends, is but another test.

The Giants have made it this far without hitting a lick, and certainly that's partially due to the Nationals' dynamic pitching staff. This isn't Jordan Zimmermann, though. This isn't Stephen Strasburg, or even Doug Fister. This is an anthropomorphic chicken nugget with arms, and the Giants happen to owe him one, too.

Hit, dang it. Hit.