One: A Haunting Hit
Juan Uribe’s ninth-inning sacrifice fly to win Game 4 of the NCLS against the Philadelphia Phillies haunts me.
Roy Oswalt had him down one ball and two strikes, throwing all fastballs inside. Then he throws a changeup, low and away, the kind of pitch that gets Uribe to lunge and strike out.
On Wednesday night Uribe lunges but makes contact — not clean, but solid enough; he hits it exactly the way he wants and where he wants. Skill? Luck? A pink rally thong Aubrey Huff wears underneath his uniform?
Baseball is such a weird game.
Two: Sanchez Makes a Statement
Not the one we had hoped Jonathan Sanchez would make. The Phillies game plan is to wait out the Giants’ starting pitcher and make him throw the ball over the plate. The statement San Francisco’s Mission District drafted for Sanchez reads, “I’m throwing strikes, Phillies. What are you going to do about it?”
Instead, the statement he sends sounds like this: “The Phillies are right on the money.”
A walk, a wild pitch and a double result in one run. Another single and a long sacrifice fly result in another run. Jonathan throws 24 pitches; only 11 are strikes. 2-0 Phillies.
Three: Something Stupid
Roy Oswalt starts for Philadelphia tonight. Andres Torres hits his second pitch into left field for a single. That’s a good sign for the Giants. Is there a bad sign? The next three batters strike out.
By the time Oswalt reaches 24 pitches, he has thrown 20 strikes and it’s already the third inning: Time for trouble.
It starts, as it always does, with something stupid. Like giving up a hit to a pitcher. Let’s see what happens. Torres follows with his second hit. Aubrey Huff hits a solid ball up the middle, driving Sanchez home. Finally, Buster Posey sends a little dribbler down toward third. Placido Polanco fields it and throws to first for the out, but hits Posey in the back instead, allowing Torres to score. 2-2.
Four: Local Spirits
For this game, I head to our neighborhood’s vanished lagoon, the old Lake Dolores, where the original spirits of this place are believed to hang out, especially on rainy nights. They’ve never been big Giants’ fans in the past, but there’s always a first time.
Those aren’t spirits out on 16th Street, those are the sound effects of spirits: the excessive screaming, ostentatious groaning, hooting and whistling from inside or outside the Delirium, Kilowatt or Gestalt. And the rain? Who cares?
It’s Giant Saturday Night Fever.
Five: Lights Out
Sanchez gets the hook after walking the first batter in the third inning and hitting the second (igniting a much-ado-about-nothing bench-clearing scene). Jeremy Affeldt comes in, cleans up the mess Sanchez left and pitches another flawless inning before turning the ball over to Madison Bumgarner, the rookie who started Wednesday.
Bumgarner’s lack of experience as a reliever shows as he loads the bases. But the kid’s got moxie, talent and cool. He hangs in there and doesn’t let Philadelphia score in the sixth.
In the seventh, Raul Ibanez reaches third base with only one out. Once again Bumgarner turns off the porch light and Ibanez never sees home. Javy Lopez keeps lights out in the seventh.
Six: Can’t Get No Relief?
The Giants flirt but don’t score; they hit but they don’t run. Like the Phillies, they don’t follow through on their threats.
For example, Cody Ross (perhaps you’ve heard of him, yes?) hits a double. Then Oswalt hits Uribe. One out, with two runners on base. Imagine the fans filling Gestalt believing that if they were loud enough, Edgar Renteria, or Oswalt, or someone in Philly would receive their bar-shaking vibes. Now imagine the silence on 16th Street when Renteria hits into a double play.
As each inning ends, individual and collective tension rises.
Seven: Oooooooo Yes!
A hitter can make contact with the ball, and hopefully put it in play. Once in play, he doesn’t know the consequences, unless….
There is some dispute over whether in the eighth inning Phillie reliever Ryan Madson threw a slider, which would have broken outside, or a cutter, which would have broken down and maybe outside. Whatever, his pitch flies straight down the middle and only begins to drop as Juan Uribe takes a vicious cut, his timing perfect, the meeting of ball and bat, perfect, the arc of the ball perfect.
Uribe knows the consequences immediately. The Giants lead 3-2.
Eight: Nailbiting Time If You Still Have Nails
The Phillies have two more at bats. Instead of sending out reliever Sergio Romo as usual for the eighth inning, Bruce Bochy taps Giant ace Tim Lincecum. The crowd at the Kilowatt cheers, but I’m worried (of course). I tell anyone who will listen that Lincecum often has control problems in early innings. Nobody wants to listen.
He strikes out Jayson Werth. That’s big. But after two strikes to Victorino, Lincecum loses it. Victorino singles, as does Raul Ibanez. Bochy decides he lost this bet, and brings in Brian Wilson for the final five outs. Wilson’s done it before.
He’s also blown it before.
Nine: Fear the Beard
“He does best with runners on,” says Matt at the Kilowatt. “He’ll strike out the next two guys, I know it,” yells Kyle. Wrong. Carlos Ruiz lines out to Aubrey Huff, who doubles Victorino off second.
Now the bottom of the ninth. Everybody’s telling “torture” jokes; nobody’s laughing. After one out, a walk; after two outs, another walk. And here’s Ryan Howard, a giant in more than uniform, menacing, pointing his bat at Brian Wilson’s dyed black beard. Fox Sports tells us over and over that Howard, the Phillies’ big gun, is due for a home run, or at least a game-tying RBI.
It almost looks like Wilson is battling himself, with Howard a bystander. Wilson throws fastballs up and in. With a full 3-2 count, Wilson’s seventh pitch in the sequence slides away from Howard, who watches as the ball zips over the outside edge of the plate.
The umpire makes the sign of a strike. Wilson makes the sign of a cross.
Sixteenth Street erupts. Mission Street erupts. The Giants win the 2010 National League pennant.
World Series against the Texas Rangers starts Wednesday on the banks of Mission Creek.
