One: A Fan’s Dilemma
This afternoon, a stunning San Francisco October Sunday, the Giants play the Atlanta Braves in the third game of a five-game playoff series, currently knotted at one a piece. The game is being played in Atlanta, which means watching it on television or the Internet.
I’m torn. On the one hand, I want to see the game. On the other hand, the last place I want to be is sitting in a dark room face-to-face with a television or computer screen. And aren’t the playoffs supposed to be some kind of civic festival, a community ritual?
I start at home.
Two: The Plot Thickens
One run was enough for the Giants in Game One. But in Game Two, four runs proved insufficient. The uncertainty that defined the Giants’ season has flooded into the post-season. Yes, the bullpen has been spectacular, but they blew a three-run lead in the eighth inning on Friday night, reminding humanity of a fundamental baseball truth: No lead is safe.
And yes, no matter how good Giant pitchers are, they don’t score runs. Neither do Giant hitters. So if the Giants don’t get timely hits, they’re going to lose, right?
Yes. And no.
Three: Sr. Reliable’s Epiphany
Pitching today for SF, the southpaw Jonathan Sanchez, Mr. Consistency. Wait a minute, haven’t you been calling him Mr. Inconsistency all year? Yes, but something struck Jonathan in late August. As if he were on a road to Damascus, he suddenly realized he did not have to fall to pieces when he opened a game a little shaky, or if he gives up a walk, or a base runner on first starts taunting him. Now he’s cool; makes adjustments and keeps on truckin’. The team needs big game from him today.
Up against Jonathan, the Braves’ ace and one-time Oakland A, Tim Hudson; he who throws the dreaded sinkerball. We loved him when he was in Oakland; we loved Barry Zito then, too.
Four: Butterfingers
If you throw a lot of sinkers, you expect hitters to make contact, meaning your defense better be good. Because of injury, the Braves are weak in this department. For example, second baseman Brooks Conrad bobbles a grounder in the first.
Although the error allows the Giants to load the bases, the Braves escape unscathed. Not so lucky in the top of the second. Mike Fontenot hits a long shot into right center that Jason Heyward can’t hold on to as he crashes into the wall. With Fontenot on third, Cody Ross pops up to shallow right field. Heyward is slow arriving; Conrad says don’t worry, he’s got it, which he does.
And then the ball inexplicably jumps out of his glove, as if pinched by a leprechaun. The Giants lead, 1-0.
Five: Phoenix
I head to Dolores Park, figuring there will be fans like me who can’t suffer the thought of being inside on such a glorious afternoon. Alas, plenty of people, but no Giants’ cheers, no Giants’ gear. Only Peggy calls out “Go Giants,” and she’s visiting from Cape Cod.
Plan B: the old Daniel’s Creamery, recently transformed into The Summit; high ceilings and lots of natural light. No televisions, but free wi-fi and long wooden common tables. Nobody appears to be paying attention to the game. It feels like a college library. Pete shrugs and says people are into social networking, not socializing.
OK, I give in and go across the street to The Phoenix. It’s dark, it’s stuffy, but there are televisions everywhere, and it’s Irish. And it’s packed with Giants’ fans! “Down in front!”
Six: Bummer
Sanchez has pitched remarkably well this afternoon, giving up only one hit and one walk; he has struck out 11, and best of all, he has shut down the Braves. Nonetheless, after Alex Gonzalez singles and Conrad pops out, manager Bruce Bochy brings in Sergio Romo. “Romo’s an agent,” says Frank the freelancer, referring to Romo’s youth in L.A. The reliever admits to having been a Dodger fan, but he says he’s an adult now. Except for an errant fastball, Romo throws nothing but sliders low and away to the first batter he faces, Eric Hinske. Hinske’s on the defensive; Romo throws another slider.
It doesn’t slide. The Phoenix goes completely dead. The Braves lead, 2-1.
Seven: From the Ashes
Jessica from Alameda meets her friend Rosalyn from Santa Cruz in the Mission for the game. They’ve been Giants fans all season, so they know this feeling only too well.
Freddy Sanchez stands at the plate in the top of the ninth with two out, Travis Ishikawa on first. Craig Kimbrell throws high fastballs, 97 mph; by the time Freddy gets his bat around, the ball has passed. Two strikes.
Jaded Atlanta fans struggle to their feet; the Braves are about to take a one-game lead — wait — hold the celebration. Sanchez hits a ground ball straight into center. A reprieve; one more chance. Welcome Aubrey Huff to excruciating playoff pressure. Can he keep the rally alive? His soft line drive to right falls just short of the onrushing Jason Heyward, and Ishikawa races home, tying the game.
And now Buster Posey, with runners at first and second, hits a sharp ground ball right at second baseman Conrad. Inning over — but the ball says, “Whoa.” Conrad says, “Oh no.” “Goodbye,” says the ball, heading out to the grass; Freddy Sanchez says “Hello! I’m home.”
Eight: Return of Blackbeard
With a one-run lead, you can bet Brian Wilson will come back to the mound for SF. He grew a beard and dyed it black for the playoffs. On Friday night he could not hold back the Braves, but he still refuses to shave.
Two outs, and Brian McCann laces a ball that Freddy Sanchez can only knock down. How close to the edge will Wilson take us? Everyone in The Phoenix is on their feet chanting “Let’s go Giants” as if they were 40,000 at Mission Creek. A grounder to Sanchez. Game over.
Exhale cheers, hugs and high-fives all around.
Nine: Wasted
Was it Conrad’s errors, or Rumel’s rally cap; Jonathan’s marvelous pitching or the positive thinking insisted upon by the guy from San Mateo? Or was it simply the luck of the Irish?
Who knows? Warren and Theresa head back to Bernal Heights. “I almost had a heart attack,” says Theresa. Then she says, “The Giants really give you your money’s worth.”
Make sure you’ve got health insurance. Game Four Monday night from Atlanta.