Swept Up: San Francisco Giants vs. Chicago Cubs

Tim Lincecum, San Francisco Giants vs. Chicago Cubs 7/28/13I attended my first San Francisco Giants game in at least a month last Sunday, July 28.  By happy coincidence, my favorite Giant, Tim Lincecum, was on the mound.

Timmy pitched great — giving up just two runs in seven innings, and striking out 10.  He also went 2-2 at the plate. You know the Giants’ offense is in serious trouble when Lincecum is the hottest hitter of the game.  And so it was that the Giants were swept by (*gulp*) the Cubbies for the first time in 20 years.  Final score: 2-1.  It’s been a long season.

So let’s look on the bright side.  The weather on Sunday was spectacular, and I got lots of great shots of Timmy on base — which doesn’t happen very often.  (Sorry, Tim.)

During the plentiful lulls in the action, I took the opportunity to experiment with my aperture and shutter speed, instead of relying so much on automatic settings.  The outcome was respectable.  (I’ll spare you the underexposed shots, in which Lincecum looks like he’s pitching during a solar eclipse, as well as the overexposed ones that resemble X-rays.)

Let’s go Giants!

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Ryan Braun: If Truth Be Told

Milwaukee Brewers outfielder Ryan Braun
(A/P)

“I am very pleased and relieved by today’s decision. It is the first step in restoring my good name and reputation. We were able to get through this because I am innocent and the truth is on our side.”

That was Milwaukee Brewers outfielder Ryan Braun in February 2012 – thumbing his nose at Major League Baseball after his positive drug test was overturned on appeal. It was a cheeky move, to claim that the truth had set him free, when in fact Braun only managed to slither out of a suspension through a chain-of-custody dispute.

Effectively, the guy who collected his 2012 urine samples had stored the sealed containers in his home fridge overnight, because it was too late to FedEx them to the lab. Braun cried cross-contamination, and a possible MLB conspiracy as well as some other nonsense.

If the urine is cold, the charge won’t uphold?

I’m sure many Brewers fans really wanted to believe he wasn’t juicing, but I doubt many did.

Fast forward to this afternoon, when it was announced that Ryan Braun has been suspended without pay for the remainder of the 2013 season for violations of MLB’s drug policy:

“As I have acknowledged in the past, I am not perfect. I realize now that I have made some mistakes. I am willing to accept the consequences of those actions.”

Come again? I guess I missed his confession of fallibility in 2012. Perhaps his sanctimonious crowing about his innocence — ALL WHILE LYING THROUGH HIS TEETH – drowned it out.

Even more fascinating in today’s statement?  “I realize NOW that I have made some mistakes.” Soooo… this only just occurred to him? Even after having paid high-priced lawyers to get him off the hook 18 months ago? Ryan Braun or his publicity folks — likely both — clearly think baseball fans are pretty gullible.

Often when a cheater or lawbreaker expresses contrition, the rest of us grumble, “Oh sure you’re sorry… sorry you got CAUGHT.”  I can’t recall a confession or apology by a public figure that has better reflected this kind of convenient epiphany, or blatant insincerity, than Ryan Braun’s did today.

Ode To Big Time Timmy Jim

Buster Posey bear hugs Tim Lincecum after his no hitter,  July 14 2013.
Photo courtesy of Lenny Ignelzi/AP

 

It’s been a tough year for the Freak

Some said that he was past his peak

He’d lost his mojo, so to speak

His pitches lacked location.

 

His Cy Young self seemed to have faded

His confidence was much degraded

If this kept up, would he be traded?

Or fall out of rotation?

 

As it turns out, the Freak was fooling

Gave his critics quite a schooling

No hitter: the official ruling

He lasted the duration.

 

His fastball started sort-of clocking

No one reached base, except by walking

Tim let his slider do the talking

A hardball demonstration.

 

Twelve dozen pitches were expended

Plus four more, his slump thus ended

Hugs from Buster, fences mended.

Giant celebrations!

Truth or Consequences

Top of mind for me this week are the appeals of the New Orleans Saints’ GM and coaches accused of (at a minimum) ignoring a bounty system in their organization, as well as the suspension – and planned appeal — of Cleveland Indians pitcher Ubaldo Jimenez. Jimenez was recently suspended for five games, and fined, for intentionally throwing at (and hitting) Colorado Rockies shortstop Troy Tulowitzki.

Anyone who has watched too much Law & Order (like me) is familiar with the apparent appeal of an appeal. When judgment goes against the defendant, his attorney immediately rises and shouts “We will appeal, Your Honor.” And so it goes in sports. With a few notable exceptions, if you get a suspension and/or are fined, you appeal.

Because appeals proceedings tend to be very secretive, it’s not always clear what is being appealed. Behind closed doors, is the accused claiming his innocence or just arguing that the penalty is too severe? Brewers outfielder Ryan Braun reportedly focused less on his innocence when appealing, than on improper protocol in the handling of his urine sample. He won, and became the first Major League player to successfully appeal a suspected violation of baseball’s Drug Treatment and Prevention Program.

Total vindication like Braun’s is unusual, however. The norm is a reduction in the fine/suspension after appeal, which makes the process feel more like a shady negotiation. It encourages players and coaches to appeal, because really… what have they got to lose? When was the last time you heard about an appeal resulting in a BIGGER fine or suspension?

Let’s consider Ubaldo Jimenez. He threw at Tulowitzki, and pretty much everyone knows it. “I shouldn’t be suspended,” he said. “Players are hit by pitches every day… I can’t get the ball to go where I want every time.” (If you’ve watched him pitch lately, you know the last part of that statement is true.)

Too bad Jimenez was so vocal about resenting his treatment in Colorado when he was traded to Cleveland; it’s well known that there was already bad blood with Tulowitzki because of it. After drilling him, Jimenez accused Tulowitzki of calling him “names”. So, his claim that it wasn’t score settling rings pretty false.

Very rarely, a sporting professional will consider appealing… but ultimately back away, and accept his punishment. Last year Cardinals catcher Yadier Molina was suspended for five games for bumping, and possibly spitting on, umpire Rob Drake after a questionable call. His statement:

“I am sorry for my actions and apologize for letting my emotions get the best of me… I have great respect for the umpires and the job they do. I accept full responsibility for my actions and will begin serving my suspension tonight.”

Molina may have truly wanted to own up to his bad behavior, and take his punishment like a man. Or perhaps he just knew the league had him dead to rights, going nuts on Drake. Regardless, it was refreshing.

While I wanted to be similarly impressed that former Saints defensive coordinator Gregg Williams declined to appeal his indefinite suspension, it felt a bit less noble once I heard audio of him seeming to promise cash to any player who made a game-ending hit on San Francisco 49ers Quarterback Alex Smith during the playoffs.  You don’t get more dead to rights than that, I figure.

I will be disappointed if the Ubaldo Jimenez suspension is reduced. As it stands, he’ll miss maybe two starts? Baseball needs to send a message: There are no excuses for pitching at a hitter. It’s nonnegotiable.

Will the one-year suspension of New Orleans head coach Sean Payton withstand appeal? Payton’s argument that he didn’t know about the team’s bounty program doesn’t pass the smell test. As it stands, he got a one-year suspension that allows him to work in broadcasting (for example) and apparently does not entirely prohibit interaction with New Orleans staff and players. That’s not exactly taking him to the woodshed. A reduction in that punishment would be disgraceful.

I think Payton would be a great test case for INCREASING a suspension when an appeal is obviously frivolous and disingenuous, similar to how a judge can penalize civil litigants who pursue frivolous lawsuits.

At last, a teachable moment I can really get behind!

Losing Lincecum

Timmy exhalesSan Francisco Giants pitcher Tim Lincecum got roughed up again tonight, this time by the Atlanta Braves.  He walked five, and gave up two earned runs in six innings.   The Giants lost 3-0, and while there’s plenty of blame to go around (I’m thinking of Andres “Butterfingers” Torres right now), there is no denying that Timmy’s problems are not just a temporary funk.  His performance has not improved this season, even though he reportedly showed up to spring training in the best physical shape of his career.

I am a longtime, diehard Lincecum fan, and his downward spiral has been tough to watch.  Of course I hate to see the Giants lose and all, but what’s harder to witness is Timmy’s complete loss of confidence.  The swagger and fist pumps are long gone, and now he just looks lonely and lost out there on the mound.

I’ve only seen Timmy pitch in person once this season – against the Colorado Rockies in late May – and finally got around to going through my shots of that game this evening.  (I’ve been a little busy lately, for reasons I’ll blog about soon.)

His facial expression and posture are so different than in seasons past.  I can see this on TV, but was surprised by how obvious the change is in these photographs.

When scrutinizing the hundreds of photos I took, deciding which to edit and keep and which to delete, I probably saved more than made sense.  Each time I watch Timmy struggle mightily these days, I wonder how many more times I’ll get to see him start.  I also wonder how much longer he’ll wear a Giants uniform.  It’s hard for me to imagine the team without him.

These are just a few of the keepers, mostly of Timmy:

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Matt Kemp: Goodness, Gracious

Los Angeles Dogers outfielder Matt Kemp warms up.
Matt Kemp

As I blogged yesterday, I attended the San Francisco Giants game against the Los Angeles Dodgers on Sunday.  A grudge match, as usual.

One thing I failed to mention in my post:  After the game — which the Dodgers lost — a gracious Matt Kemp jogged over to my section and gave half his uniform to a young, disabled Dodger fan seated almost directly in front of me.  No hoopla or posing.  No cameras around, except for the personal iPhone of someone seated nearby that was used to shoot this video.  (Unfortunately, I had already stored my camera away by that point, and the encounter happened too fast for me to pull it back out.)

No exaggeration, you could have heard a pin drop in section 125.  Kemp, who gets booed with every at-bat in AT&T Park, left a number of us pretty choked up.  The young fan was at the game with an older gentleman — probably his Dad — who was obviously thrilled and touched beyond words.

I am not much for heckling opponents, so I was never among the Matt Kemp booers to begin with.  But going forward, I may manage some polite clapping, instead of stoney silence, when he’s at the plate. 

I’m not sure I could manage flat-out cheering, though.  He does, after all, still wear Dodger blue.

Giants vs. Dodgers: A Clean Sweep

San Francisco Giants pitcher Matt Cain on the mound, May 5, 2013.
Matt Cain

The San Francisco Giants beat the Los Angeles Dodgers three times last weekend. Swept the floor with them, you might say.

I caught Sunday afternoon’s game — the last of the series and a 4-3 victory for my guys.  My seat was near third base — a more favorable location this season, since the team has found its offense.  In years past, when only one or two Giants players even made it to third base, let alone scored, it could feel like the loneliest, saddest place on earth.

Matt Cain — who was winless in April — looked strong.  Hunter Pence was en fuego. (Sunday was Cinco de Mayo, after all.)  Andres Torres ran very fast.  And Pablo looked… like a fat panda.  His online bio puts his weight at 240 pounds, but these photos don’t lie.  The guy is a house.

Right now Sandoval is batting .323, but you have to wonder how long he can maintain that when he huffs and puffs around the bases… and can no longer see his toes while doing it.

On a lighter note, being back at the ballpark on a warm day — camera in hand — brought me all the usual joy.

And as my tagline says… I have the pictures to prove it.

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Spring Training Days 3 and 4: Nice Weather We’re Having…

Gregor Blanco

Day three of 2013 spring training passed without major incident.   Tim Lincecum was scheduled to start, but had to bow out due to his blister situation.  There were a lot of kiddies in 55 jerseys — and one slightly older woman — scuffling along dejectedly before the game as a result.  The only one who was pretty pumped about the whole thing was Chad Gaudin, who started in Timmy’s place.

The Tribe beat the Giants 6-4.   On San Francisco’s end, Gaudin, Kontos and both Brandons looked in fine form.  And for the Tribe?  Two words – Nick Swisher.  Another homer.  He’s a fantastic acquisition – and he seems thrilled to be back in Ohio. (He’s a former Buckeye from THE Ohio State University.)  I am very excited to see the effect he has on the team this season.

A Giants vs. Indians World Series.  It could happen!

Some of the best photos of the day were of Bruce Bochy, as he signed baseballs before the game.  He was extremely gracious with fans, as was Ron Wotus.

No good deed goes unpunished, though.  Their reward was even more fans calling out to them during the game, begging for autographs.  Now, I understand that spring training is pretty casual compared to the regular season but… um, the game had started.  The guys were kind of busy managing the team.

How can so many self-professed die-hard fans wearing head-to-toe Giants gear be that clueless?

This morning, my last in Scottsdale, I awoke to rain and wind.  Instead of heading to the ballpark to watch the Giants battle the LA Dodgers as planned, I played hooky and drove to Sedona… where I experienced every form of bad weather imaginable: torrential rain, sideways hail accompanied by thunder and lightning (a weird combo), and a full-on whiteout somewhere around Prescott.  But I also got a rainbow at the end of it all so I guess everything balanced out.

I also got the satisfaction of knowing I made a good choice to play hooky.  The Giants game was cancelled.

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Spring Training Day Two: Naming Names

Day two of spring training took me to Goodyear, Arizona where my old hometown team the Cleveland Indians welcomed (and ultimately shut out) the evil Los Angeles Dodgers.  A good and just baseball outcome in a very dry heat.

There was less power hitting than in Tuesday’s 4-3 win over my current home team, the San Francisco Giants:  No home runs today vs. five yesterday.  But there were two botched pick off attempts by Dodgers pitcher Matt Palmer that allowed the Indians to score.

Even worse, two Indians players were hit by pitches.  In fact Matt Carson — up from the minors — got beaned, and was escorted to the locker room by Manager Terry Francona and a trainer.  He seemed OK, but wow the sound of a ball on a batting helmet is a terrible one.

Poor Carson. I realized today that some guys like him, non-roster or minor league Indians players, have neither a photo on the scoreboard nor a name on the back of their jerseys.  I suppose that’s to prevent fans like me from forming too much of an attachment to players who might not be around in April.

Too late.

Indians fans sitting around me really had a soft spot for these young guys, shouting encouragement — rather than insults — when they pretty much swung at every pitch that didn’t hit them in the head.

I have a new baseball crush, left fielder Tim Fedroff.  As I said in my last post, he is Hunter Pence in a different uniform.  Yesterday he was the guy to know, if you were under 14 years of age and wanted an Indians player to autograph your baseball.  Fedroff would take a kid’s ball, ask which player’s signature he or she wanted, descend into the dugout and badger that teammate until he signed.  The kids were busting.

That said, I asked one young boy which player had autographed his ball and he replied, “Honestly I have no idea.  I am a Dodgers fan.”  Boo!  Apparently they let anyone into Scottsdale stadium these days.

Today Fedroff was again effusive.   He didn’t start, and spent the early part of the game hanging over the dugout railing—apparently having a blast.  When he was called to play, he BOUNDED across the field.  He zigzagged like a kid pretending he was an airplane, and the other players laughed.  This is why I love spring training.

At one point I think he, Lonnie Chisenhall and Mark Reynolds may have been trying to get my attention.  (I was the woman with the biggest camera, three rows back.)  They were sort of miming that someone—possibly me—should take their photo.  I wanted to, but… the only thing worse than missing that opportunity would have been thinking it was directed at me, only to discover that they were talking to some hot, buxom chick in daisy dukes a few rows behind me.

(Have you ever seen the Southwest Airlines commercial in which a woman thinks a handsome colleague is professing his love for her before a big meeting?  She gushes her feelings in return, but he’s actually talking to his girlfriend via his bluetooth headset.  OUCH.  That’s what I was thinking about. ”Wanna get away?”)

Plus I didn’t have the heart to tell them that my camera was actually focused just behind them, on Jason Kipnis poised to steal second base.

That’s the kind of thing that happens at Spring training, though, when players and coaches are a little more loose and very accessible to fans.  Yesterday in Scottsdale, Will the Thrill Clark was channeling Shecky Green.  He knew all the regulars in my section and kept a running banter going with them.  He even threw fistfuls of gum into the stands.

Tomorrow the Giants and Indians will meet again, this time at Goodyear.  I’ll have no conflicting loyalties, because spring training is a time when you just want everyone to play well.

Especially the faceless new guys, wearing nameless jerseys.

2013 Spring Training: Day One

No witty commentary today, due to writing time wasted searching for my USB cord to upload these photos.  Bottom line:  It was a good day one… and not just because I (obviously) found the cord.

Now, off to Goodyear to see the Cleveland Indians take off the LA Dodgers. (Boo Dodgers!)