It’s over before it even began.
Today the reigning World Champion San Francisco Giants will hold a presumably lavish pregame ceremony befitting the, um, reigning World Champions. There will be flag-hoisting, tear-jerking speeches, doling out of heavy and bejeweled rings, and lots of palm-stinging clapping at AT&T park this afternoon.
I’d like to get excited about that. I really would. But I just can’t.
First, the Giants won the World Series back in October, like 6 months ago. We already had a big parade all over the place with podium-pounding pronouncements from elected and appointed officials after a conga line of cable cars. At least I think it was cable cars. The ticker tape parades have all begun to blend together. I may be conflating one with the others. (See what I did there?).
Second, the Giants are off to a pretty unimpressive start this year. And by the way, yes, the season has already begun. We are two uninspiring road trips deep. And before that there was the spring training season. All of which was dutifully covered ad nauseum. I have the MLB 2015 “At Bat” iPhone app alerts to prove it. At this point, 7 games into the season, our beloved home team has lost more games than it has won. We sit alone at the bottom of our division.
Third, we are a motley crew. One of our best players has a busted arm and is on the DL. A replacement for one of our former best players (now with the Red Sox) has kicked the ball around the infield like a Little Leaguer. I cringe when the ball is hit in his direction, grinding my molars at how far up into the stands he will chuck the baseball. But at least I can avoid having to cringe for a couple games, since he too is on the DL. Groin, knee, hammy, whatever. He took an unproductive and seemingly innocuous swing, and next thing you know he is genuflecting or Tebowing maybe three feet up the first base line. Not impressive.
Our presumptive starting first baseman — he of the sweet swing — has already been on the DL with a groin. I mean with a pulled groin. I suppose all of our players have groins. But our first baseman is the only player thusfar who has managed to pull his and miss a couple games. No doubt there will be many pulled groins this season. We should check with the people at Guiness (the book, not the beer) to ascertain the modern day record regarding pulled groins in a single season. I feel really really good about our chances in this category. Maybe I’ll even commission a new screen-printed tee shirt in anticipation of our new world record. I think the “San Francisco Groints,” in the proper font and color scheme, would be a big hit on the sidewalks outside the ballpark.
Our starting pitcher of Ruthian proportions (both throwing the ball and hitting the ball) threw batting practice the other day. Only it was during a real game. The Comcast Sports Net people must have breathed a sigh of relief that they ultimately didn’t need to figure out a way to add a third column in their graphics package as the Padres seemingly approached 100 hits in said game.
Another pitcher of ours who once threw a perfect game my family and I witnessed first-hand — his is now a creaky arm. Bone chips removed in the off season from his elbow. Don’t think he’ll be chucking baseballs through a pizza box on Youtube anytime soon, let alone pitching perfect games. Another of our pitchers has suffered of late with a “dead arm,” then a “dead back.” He gave up a gut-punching grand slam the other day. To a player who hit his first career grand slam. At 37 years old. With something like 300,000 previous at-bats without hitting a home run. I’m exaggerating slightly here. But only slightly.
Our backup catcher nearly had his arm Barbie-Dolled right out of his shoulder socket during a play at the plate a game or two ago. A little while later, an opposing player dropped his bat head on the catcher’s skull whilst our catcher was not wearing his helmet. Inadvertent, mind you, but something that just never happens. At least I’ve never seen a Barbie Doll-Arm Wrench-Followed-by-Bat-to-Skull sequence before.
None of this stuff bodes well. It’s simply bad juju. No bueno. So at this point in the season — 4% of the way through — I’m officially throwing in the towel.
Bring on 2016!
Thanks for reading.