Jimmie Sherfy—I don’t know about this guy.

In a rivalry re-defining season between the San Francisco Giants and Los Angeles Dodgers, it only makes sense that a bullpen maverick like Jimmie Sherfy would come in and make history.

Spitting in the face of sixty-plus years, Sherfy, through sheer guile or malice or discontent, became the first player to play for both Los Angeles and San Francisco in the same season.

It’s a dubious honor to turn coat like that–and more dubious that it is between such storied opponents–and even more dubious-er that he went North to South rather than South to North.

Sherfy…sounds an awful lot like shifty. And the spelling of Jimmie? Why the -ie rather than the clean, more efficient -y?

I trust Jimm(y)ie Shifty Sherfy about as far as I can throw him…which is maybe the mound-length towards home plate if I lift with my knees properly and use the incline to my advantage.

Sherfy’s start as a Giant was anything but nefarious. He was signed to a minor league contract and called up from Sacramento in early June. In eight appearances over that month, he allowed one earned run on five hits over 8.2 innings, logging most of his work in the late innings in generally not-close games. He was the pitcher of record when Mike Yastrzemski hit his 8th inning grand slam that capped a come-from-behind-win against the Diamondbacks.

His two appearances in July resulted in four earned runs in two innings pitched and the next day, he was off the Giants, designated for assignment to make room for a rebounding Tyler Beede.

A week later, the Dodgers picked him up. His treachery was fully realized when he later pitched 2.1 innings against his former team, once again claiming a win off another pitcher’s misfortunes: Tyler Rogers’s walk-walk-walkoff homer shellacking on July 20th.

After a week pitching in LA, Sherfy went on the IL with right elbow inflammation. He didn’t pitch again for the rest of the season and elected free agency in the off-season.

Thus ends the infamous run of Jimmie Sherfy. What more can be said? All is fair in love and war–that old song and dance. Tired trope. We live in an age of transactions, of economy, of the highest bidder, where the only sport is money.

I write this in the living room of my in-laws in New York–in a crater of the holidays of pandemic of year retrospectives and new year predictions. My Starbucks creme brulee latte is finished. Hank Aaron has passed. The Giants historic season ended too soon. Joan Didion died and who, or what, approaches next? What rough beast slouches our way?

Thus concludes my player review of Jimmie Sherfy.