In Part I, Your SF Giants fell victim to the magic spells of the Evil Dr. Lee. In Parts II and III below, the locals continue to display limp and lobotomized symptoms.
Part II, Friday: Philadelphians 9, Your SF Giants 2
“GQ Jonny” Sanchez returns to the mound after successful surgery to replace his arm with a hydraulic pump and install a tiny Buddha in his brain. For good measure, GiantsInc sent Sanchez to Fresno to remind him how bad things can get if he doesn’t shape up and stop thinking. He looks loose, confident and out of control. The Philz can’t stop spitting because it’s only the first inning and they can see it in his eyes: He’s thinking about his mechanics, his location, his velocity. Sanchez is not a “grinder”; he doesn’t suffer well. When he’s not having fun, the other team will be soon.
Meanwhile, Carlos Beltran and the Eight Dwarves seem lost in a gingerbread forest of their own baking. It must be as delicious as it is disorienting. Rather than taking out their frustrations on a rookie, they look absolutely languid: sweet and ineffectual, like the president of the United States. Imagine if the hit team that killed Bin Laden had had Eli Whiteside leading the way. Oops, Whiteside just hit a home run, accounting for half the runs scored in two games. Oops, the Bin Laden hit team (SEALS, not Lou Seal) just got hit. A poor but somewhat standard night for baseball and metaphors.
O joy! A bench-clearing brawl.
O merde! Standard & Poors degraded our poor degraded debt.
Part III, Saturday afternoon: Philadelphians 2, Pablo Sandoval 1
One thing to say in favor of the Philz pitchers: They eschew torture. Speed is the name of their game (urine checks?). Speed, ruthless efficiency, deadly execution. The Philz, especially their pitchers, remind you of Your Coke-Head 49ers of the Eddie era — not torturers, but, as Steve Young put it, “assassins.”
Just like Thursday night against Madison Bumgarner, the Philz ambush Matt Cain before he settles into the game. After two runs in the first, Matt punches their lights out. Unfortunately, though the fog dissolves, revealing a crisp and shining summer’s day (for two hours), the lights never turn on for Your SF Giants. Are these the “World Champions” as seen on “reality” TV? Everybody agrees the show is not real, but if GiantsInc keeps insisting that baseball games can be won without scoring runs, will Standard & Poors downgrade its tickets? Or reality?
By the time Sandoval hit his lone homer in the ninth, even the steam cannons couldn’t get it up for more than a fake orgasm. Any hopes prematurely raised were quickly gone.
With one game left in the series, and The Freak pitching for Your SF Giants, should you change your Sunday plans and dive into the metaphysics of the game feet first? Will you change your socks, like Kelly, a fan I spoke with, swore she would? Will you pray to fortune, share a drink with Dionysos, sacrifice to Apollo? What would you sacrifice? A goat? A chicken?