The first thing to remember about Coors Field is that it's a magical place, a dream factory where no deficit is too great, no obstacle insurmountable. It's America, really, a little Horatio Alger story tucked in the mountains. It's a brick-and-mortar story of redemption, a place where wrongs can be undone.
Coors Field is pretty much the best. The Giants were down 6-0, and then a furry little beast called Coors Field scurried up and yelled, "Come with me if you want to live!" That turned into the start of a wondrous adventure, and when it ends, we'll all have learned something. Something important that we'll keep with us for the rest of our lives.
The Giants were lost, but Coors Field took their hand and led them where they needed to be. Bless this place. Bless this magical place.
No, seriously, what just happened?
You all have this experience, the anecdotal experience that you know is nothing more than coincidence but you can't help but share anyway. "I felt my grandmother's breath on my neck, and when I turned around, her birthday was written in orzo on the kitchen floor. And I knew she was gone." That moment where you figure you can see through time, or at least not act so surprised when the future flashes you and runs away into the past.
When the Giants were down 6-0, I wasn't impatient. I wasn't even mad. I expected them to come back. You know me -- I'm a cynical putz on my good days. Tonight, though, I had a second-act tipping point. The moment where the protagonist (me, because it always is) yelled something like "DO YOUR WORST" into the swirling maelstrom. And then things changed. Things got better. The Giants conquered the murky depths. They came out clean on the other side.
The Giants were down 6-0 in Coors Field, and here's the worst part: The Rockies were still allowed to bat. It was a horrible thing, just horrible. I didn't care. I kept waiting for the solo dinger (that happened) before the two-out hit (that happened a couple times) before the next two-out hit (that also happened a couple times). I can't explain it. I have so much screw-it to give for baseball games. Just so much screw-it-done to give. But on this night, I wasn't even sweating a 6-0 deficit against the Rockies at Coors Field. I'd like to think that's a sign.
Maybe it's a sign of the Rockies being really bad.
No, no. It's probably a sign of something amazing. Even year, everyone. It's an even year.
For whatever reason, though, Coors Field was an agent working for me on this night. I can't explain it. I just expected it.
This is the part of the season in which Buster Posey reminds us that he's one of the very best baseball players alive. He doesn't explicitly shame us for openly questioning his ability, but he has this way of making us realize that we're wrong. It's the darndest thing.
Since the start of August, Posey is hitting over .350. He's hitting for power. He's cutting down runners trying to steal. He's catching games for pitchers throwing well. This is it. This is the guy who won the MVP 25 months ago. He's 27, and a lot of us were caught up in the July stats as if they were chiseled in stone, a chilling premonition of the Posey of Christmas Future.
He's probably pretty good, and for a few years yet. If he does the same thing next year, remember that he was messing with us in 2014. He's a bananas month away from turning into an MVP candidate. And to think, the discussion last month was about moving him to first so his bat would stay fresh ...
The Giants have scored 12 runs or more in three of their last six games. Here's a list of seasons in which the Giants scored 12 runs or more exactly once:
They did it exactly three times in 2012, too. If you were wondering.
The nonsensical MLB blackout prevents me from acquiring video evidence of this, but there was an Andrew Susac frame-job against Drew Stubbs in the third inning that was breathtaking. Well, breathtaking to a baseball nerd. Stubbs eventually hit a double, so don't think this is me discovering the hidden key to the win. It was just a boffo frame-job. And it made me think that this kid, this wayward Beaver, just might be something.
Then he hit a double and drove in some runs, and it seemed like blasphemy to even ask if he might be something. Of course he's going to be something. He was the first-round lock who dropped to the Giants for whatever reason, and of course he's going to save us all. He'll allow the Giants to play Posey at first against left-handers without absolutely crippling the lineup, and he'll do the same when it's time to give Posey an honest day off. He'll never make us entertain Posey-for-Rios trades, but this could be the start of a wonderful friendship.
There's a way to get Susac 350 at-bats and Posey 500 at-bats without screwing Brandon Belt. We just have to do the lineup sudoku over and over again until we find it. What are you doing? Don't just stand there, find it.
There's a Faustian bargain with Yusmerio Petit. He was a minor league demon, a cause célèbre for stat nerds everywhere. Look at the strikeouts. Look at the walks. He's going to be great. Then when he got to the majors, he was annihilated, especially in Arizona. Looks like he can't pitch in a park where the flyballs fly out. The Giants scooped him up, and he's been very valuable for them, which makes sense, considering they play in a place where the flyballs don't go out.
The other part of that bargain is that you have to expect Petit to implode when he's pitching in a short-grassed, thin-air, nonsense machine. Take your lumps. He'll be good again. Just not here. Like Tim Hudson, never here.
The Dodgers won, but just about everyone else lost in the wild card race, pushing the Giants closer to a one-game playoff to get into the playoffs.
Be careful what you wish for.
(I'll take it. But I don't not believe with the NL West, now that you mention it.)