I Was Mad… But Then Came Madbum!

Rory McIlroy and Sergio RomoI have more than 100 reasons to dislike San Francisco Giants Chief Operating Officer Larry Baer tonight, and each has a dollar sign in front of it.

It was Irish Heritage Night at AT&T Park, and I went to the game in search of a Rory McIlroy bobblehead, and a photo-op of him (Rory, not the bobblehead) throwing out the first pitch.  I splurged on a seat in my favorite section by the Giants dugout.  It’s Larry territory — perfect for photo taking.

Rory threw pretty well for someone who once divulged on Twitter that the only sport he doesn’t care for is… baseball.  Then, I couldn’t believe it – he joined us all in Costa del Baerville, taking a seat four rows in front of me, next to Larry!

Unfortunately, this is when the trouble started.  It was crazy.  Streams of Larry Baer’s BFFs appeared out of nowhere, and stood fawning over Rory and air kissing one another — even after the game started.

For the rest of us, the expectation that one should wait until an at-bat is finished before getting up/returning to one’s seat applies.  Don’t time your restroom break just right? You may be forced to crawl back to your seat on your belly.

Not so for Larry and friends.

Baer was positively giddy, glad-handing and moving his friends and family around constantly.  At one point, while he was standing and blocking everyone’s view, Melky Caberea hit a smoking foul ball that whizzed no more than five feet from his head.  I don’t wish Larry injury, but I’m not sure getting bonked on the head would necessarily do him much harm.  (ZING!)

I’ve always been fairly ambivalent about Baer, but after tonight I know this for sure:  There is not a down-to-earth bone in his body.  He flamboyantly worked the crowd in “his” section.  The problem is, no more than 75% of the folks sitting there appeared to be his guests.  The rest of us paid a substantial amount of money for our tickets and wanted to watch THE GAME instead of Larry pressing the flesh.

The next time Larry Baer decides to throw a party during a Giants game, I would respectfully suggest that he rent a luxury suite upstairs.  He can certainly afford it.

Despite my feud with Larry and his entourage, I would be remiss if I didn’t say… it was a great game for the Giants.  I got a bobblehead, albeit a slightly defective one. Rory’s tiny driver keeps falling out of his hand.  I think a dab of Liquid Nails may be in order, but I suspect that’s not regulation and the USGA will disapprove.

Madison Bumgarner hit his first Major League home run tonight.  How could I stay mad, when I was so happy for Madbum?  Brandon Belt hit one too, and more than one helpful fan yelled down to Manager Bruce Bochy — just to make sure he saw it.

Crazy Like A Hawk

Hawk HarrelsonI have complained about Chicago White Sox broadcast announcer Hawk Harrelson since the day I signed up for the MLB package on cable. So today I felt vindicated.

Thanks to this video of Harrelson losing his (bleep) over the ejection of pitcher Jose Quintana, I now have evidence to boost my hypothesis that the Chicago White Sox have the most annoying, unprofessional announcers of all time, who can’t hold a candle to Underwood and Manning (Cleveland Indians) Kruk & Kuip (San Francisco Giants) or Dave Flemming and Jon Miller (ditto).

Until today I didn’t even know Harrelson’s name; I have disliked him so intensely, I refused to learn it.

“There’s this White Sox guy”, I’d complain to friends, “and he’s a complete jerk. I have never heard anything like it!”  I’d rattle off his many offenses, like yelling, “stay fair” when a Sox hit is going foul, and referring to Sox players as “our guys” or “the good guys”.  Oh, and let’s not forget Harrelson’s folksy catch phrase — “He gone!” – when one of the bad guys on the opposing team strikes out.  That one makes me positively nuts, both because it is grammatically incorrect (flashbacks to Sarah Palin) and because Harrelson seems to think he’s so clever when he says it.

As it turns out, though, I am not the only person who finds Hawk Harrelson offensive.  I am shocked — SHOCKED – to learn this!

Repeat after me: No man is an island.  You are never alone.

More than one-third of Harrelson’s Wikipedia page is devoted to his “catchphrases” and common criticisms of them.  There’s also a web site devoted exclusively to his ouster, called Heave the Hawk.

During today’s on-air tirade, Hawk argues that umpire Mark Wegner does not understand the game of baseball.  An interesting observation from the former White Sox GM who, among other bonehead moves, traded rookie Bobby Bonilla – an eventual six-time All-Star – to the Pittsburg Pirates.

Living in Chicago someday is on my bucket list.  When I make that move I assure you that, thanks to Hawk Harrelson, I will be a Cubbies fan. Until then I will just have to fantasize about him getting sacked, so that I can say it.  You know where I’m going with this…. “HE GONE!”

Hawk Harrelson:  Love him or hate him?  Discuss.

Not The Giants’ Sunday Best

Tim Lincecum
Tim Lincecum

I caught Sunday’s San Francisco Giants game against the Oakland Athletics.  The weather cooperated, but the As did not.  They beat the Giants 6-2.

My seat was just to the right of the Giants dugout, deep in Larry Baer territory.  So while I’m pleased with the photos I took, I’d be a fool if I didn’t give proper props to location, location, location.

Sunday was my first time being in such close proximity to Tim Lincecum on the mound.  It was the perfect vantage point from which to watch him get creamed by Collin Cowgill.  Ouch.

It wasn’t Timmy’s finest hour… but I still had fun, and at those prices (ouch, again) THAT is what counts…

That, and scoring a Brian Wilson gnome!   I arrived one hour before AT&T Park’s gates opened, and waited patiently in line for one.  No small children were injured in the capture and taming of my gnome.

A San Francisco Giants promotional giveaway: Brian Wilson Gnome (2012)

Timmy Takes It On The Chin

San Francisco Giants pitcher Tim Lincecum has to cover home plate from time to time, and I always cringe when he does it.  These photos of his collision with Collin Cowgill in the fourth inning of today’s game against the Oakland A’s illustrate why.

Timmy’s ankle, especially in the second shot, stirred some intense flashbacks of last season’s Buster Posey collision at the plate.   And I could see his head snap back after Cowgill’s batting helmet struck his jaw.

Those few seconds when Timmy was face down in the dirt felt very long.  He’s a string bean.  But he’s our string bean.  And he’s tough.

Buck Up, Buttercup!

Cameron ShoresI have a complicated relationship with The Today Show.  Many things about it drive me nuts.  For starters, Ann Curry may be a very sweet person –  she can ask an evasive political candidate tough questions in such a non-confrontational way, he doesn’t know what hit him – but her hushed tones in human interest segments can be like nails on a chalkboard… especially when she sympathetically pats guests on the arm for emphasis.

Some Today segments are so devoid of social or educational value, I suspect that high school interns may have temporarily hijacked the studio. A recurring favorite:  Those crazy Duggars are pregnant again! Seriously?  I mean the show is called “19 Kids & Counting!”   When your teaser before a commercial is “The Duggars are here with a BIG announcement”, you don’t exactly need to issue a spoiler alert.

This morning, however, a warm-and-fuzzy Today story helped restore my faith in humanity.

At a recent Texas Rangers game, a foul ball was tossed into the stands and retrieved by a young couple, Shannon Moore and Sean Leonard.  Next to them sat three-year-old Cameron Shores and his parents.  Cameron already loves baseball so much, he sleeps with his glove every night, and he was NOT HAPPY for Shannon and Sean.  He wanted that baseball.  So Cameron threw a hissy fit.  Meanwhile the giddy couple beside him was oblivious, taking iPhone photos of themselves proudly holding up the ball.

Michael Kay, a Yankees announcer, aligned himself with Team Cameron right out of the gate.  “Oh my God. They can’t give it to the kid? That’s awful!  They’re rubbing it in the kid’s face.”  If you watch the video, though, you can clearly see that Shannon and Sean didn’t have a clue.

Now we reach the part of the story that impressed me so much:  Cameron is a lucky boy.  He has thoughtful, level-headed parents.  When he lost his marbles, his parents didn’t panic.  Instead, they immediately shifted him away from Shannon and Sean so that he didn’t spoil their fun, or guilt them into giving him their prize.

As they soothed their son, they explained that the game wasn’t over, and he might catch another ball later. “I never once thought that they should have given him the ball,” said Cameron’s mom Crystal. “We’re trying to teach him he doesn’t get everything every time.”

In fact, a few minutes after the TV cameras lost interest, Shannon and Sean realized why Cameron was crying and offered him the ball – and his parents politely turned them down.

I ask you, how cool are Cameron’s mom and dad?!?!  I wish more parents behaved this way.  Rather than assuming that the rest of us are put on this earth to revolve around their offspring, they actually thought FIRST about how his tantrum might affect OTHERS!  Unbelievable!

Later in the game, after Cameron had stopped crying, the Rangers organization sent out a ball for him.  Of course he was thrilled, but hopefully he also learned the lesson his parents were trying to teach; You may not get what you want, whenever you want it…. but patience is often rewarded.

On a slightly related note, my experience at the ballpark has been it’s not just the announcers who deride adult fans who hang on to foul balls – it’s the people sitting around them.  “Give it to a kid,” they shout.

Question:  Should grownups be expected to give up foul balls to youngsters sitting in their vicinity, even if they don’t know them?  (Being a fraidy cat, I think this will always be a hypothetical question for me.  I’m more likely to be vilified for ducking behind a little kid to escape being beaned by a pop up, than to catch one.)  That said, remember this young Giants fan?  If I caught that ball, Mr. Pouty wouldn’t have a prayer…

My Thoughts On Aubrey

Aubrey HuffI’ve been dreading this all week.  Ever since Aubrey Huff’s implosion on the field (Saturday) and off the field (starting Sunday), most fans have known that trouble is on the way.

Huff has had two tough seasons since being one of the unlikely heroes of the 2010 World Series Champion San Francisco Giants.  His 2011 was abysmal, something GM Brian Sabean and Manager Bruce Bochy blamed on poor off-season conditioning and lack of commitment. In 2012, his batting average is just .182.

On Saturday, in the 9th inning against the New York Mets, 35-year-old Huff played second base — perhaps for the first time in his professional career.  On a crucial play in the tied game, he failed to cover the bag.  San Francisco fans know all about it, so there’s not much I can add here.  We lost.

On Sunday Huff was given a day off.  On Monday, he was a no show against the Mets.  We were told he informed Bruce Bochy via text message that he was dealing with a family emergency.  On Tuesday, he again did not join the team.  Uh oh.

Twitter was remarkably, uncharacteristically restrained.  The coincidence of his absence following a huge career blooper, and heavy public criticism, was evident to all.  But no one really wrote about it.  What if there really WAS a family catastrophe, and we wrongly accused Aubrey Huff of simply taking a dive to save face?

Most Giants fans know Aubrey Huff’s personal story.  He was raised by a single Mom after his father’s tragic death when Aubrey was just seven years old.  Oh God, was his Mom ill?  Or one of his young sons?

Now, I guess, we have our answer.  Aubrey Huff is reportedly suffering from Anxiety Disorder, and has been put on the 15-day disabled list.  Are career pressures at the root of this anxiety, or the retirement of fellow Giant and BFF Pat Burrell… or something else?  Is it even something the public should be debating?

Shortly after the announcement of Huff’s placement on the DL, information surfaced that his wife Baubi filed for divorce earlier this year, leading to much debate; Did columnists who reported this news cross a line, given that divorce filings are public information in Florida?  If a professional athlete implodes, is the media not entitled to report on what may have caused it?

You know what?  For once, I am not sure.  I don’t feel ENTITLED to know about Aubrey Huff’s personal life, but at the same time… it’s not like I dug through his trashcan to get the information.   Truth is, as a fan I’m a pragmatist who wonders… So does this mean Belt will play first on Thursday?

At the same time, I feel sincere sadness for the Huff family.   Aubrey purportedly suffers from a devastating disorder that afflicts approximately 18% of Americans.  He and his wife are splitting up, something far too many families endure in this day and age.  Plus he’s had a couple of really embarrassing professional face plants recently.

While most of us can identify with some – if not all – of these hardships, we get to suffer through them in relative obscurity.  We crawl off into a corner and lick our wounds for a while but – with luck, and thanks to the support and encouragement of our friends, colleagues and family — we emerge feeling a little stronger.

My hope is that the media, the team, and my fellow San Francisco Giants fans continue to treat Aubrey Huff’s situation with the sensitivity and empathy it deserves.  So far, I’m proud of all of us.

My Diamond Level Best

Jack Hannahan

As a die-hard San Francisco Giants fan, I buy plenty of tickets to games each season from either the Giants, or StubHub.  I avoid keeping a tally because I don’t want to know the out-of-pocket – although it’s safe to say that Suze Orman would not approve.

This season, I decided to branch out and also buy a ticket to see my other favorite team – the Cleveland Indians – play the Oakland As.  Not surprisingly, As tickets are much easier to come by than Giants tickets, and the “best available” option online can be a blessing or a curse, depending on your budget.

My best available seat for Sunday’s game at Oakland Coliseum was on the Diamond Level.  The name suggested that I wasn’t going to be stuck in the bleachers, but you never know, right?  Maybe there’s also a Krugerrand Level or a Platinum Level?

Another clue?  The fact that you don’t really see signs for the Diamond Level anywhere in the ballpark, which I assume is intentional.   I had to ask five different ushers for directions, and each time was told cryptically to “turn left/right at the hat stand”.  It felt very prohibition-era, like I might be expected to know a secret handshake or password to get past the bouncer.

When I finally found the secret passageway next to “the hats”, an usher gave me directions to the bowels of the stadium.  (Perhaps the Diamond Level also got its name because getting there feels a bit like descending into the mines?)  I was then coached on protocol.  It was at this point that I began to understand why my ticket cost so much.

The walk to my seat was like slipping backstage at a Springsteen show – except it was very quiet.  The usher pointed to tape running along the floor, splitting the walkway in half.  I was to stay to the left, because players from the opposing team (a.k.a. the Tribe) would be walking back and forth to their locker room on the right.  I was advised not to speak to the players, and that photos are strictly verboten in the hallway.  In fact, I was not even allowed to carry my cell phone in my hand, because I might be tempted to snap an iPhone pic.

Are you kidding me?  The only thing separating me and lovable Jack “Super Mannahan” Hannahan would be a sliver of masking tape?  Sadly I passed Jack and Jason Kipnis on my way down… and dropped my head to stare at my sneakers.  I was nervous and shy, so I suppose I defaulted to Zoo Rules:  Don’t try to touch the player (he may bite!), make eye contact with him, or feed him your hot dog scraps.

Speaking of food scraps, food is free on the Diamond Level – well, given the ticket price I guess it’s more accurate to call it complimentary – through the seventh inning.  And they have LOBSTER ROLLS down there!  Food orders are taken, and food is delivered, by very handsome waiters.  Too bad no one told me all this in advance, before I bought a bratwurst up on the concourse.

As these photos attest, my seat was right behind home plate, a few yards from the on-deck circle.  Before and after the game, I could photograph players going to/from the dugout, which I’m sure they hate.  A few of them rushed past like they were running the gauntlet.

All in all, my foray into super-luxury seating was a blast, despite the game’s final score.  (The Tribe lost 5-1.)  I got the kind of photos I’d hoped for – not a ton of variety but amazing detail, like Justin Masterson’s facial expressions when he pitches.  I also scored one lobster roll, awesome ballpark nachos, two Sam Adamses, two bottles of water and a bag of peanuts (still in my purse).  Throw in some above-average Bay Area baseball weather and I’d say I broke even.

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Play Ball!

The San Francisco Giants 2012 home opener against the Pittsburg Pirates was everything I’d hoped for… starting with sunny and dry.  For several days prior, I had monitored the Weather Channel, while also chanting “ohpleaseohpleaseohplease”.  I guess it worked.

Bryan Stow’s son Tyler movingly threw out the first pitch.  It looked like a change-up.  Seriously, he’s 13 and I think he may have a future in baseball.

Matt Cain threw a gem – a one-hitter complete game.  Aubrey Huff homered, and Buster nearly did.

I splurged on my seat, under the auspices of trying out a new camera lens.   Really, I was just ready for some baseball and I wanted to be close to the action.  I can now say my investments in the lens – and the Opening Day ticket – were wise ones.

On a personal note, my apologies to the nephew of Bob in section 126, row 10.   According to the season ticketholders seated around me, Bob couldn’t attend yesterday’s game, and gave his nephew his ticket.  It eventually became MY ticket, through the magic of StubHub.   When I told my seatmates where I bought it, eyebrows shot up.   Uh oh.

Sorry if I outed you, crafty nephew of Bob.  If you didn’t split the ticket-sale proceeds with your uncle, your next conversation with him could be a little awkward!

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Something Unappealing…

Cleveland Indians pitcher Ubaldo Jimenez is putting my happy, Fred-Couples-leading-at-Augusta buzz at risk on this fine, sunny Saturday morning.

Jimenez is pitching for the Indians today, as scheduled, because he is appealing his five game suspension for drilling former teammate Troy Tulowitzki on April 1. Rumor is, though, that he will withdraw that appeal later today — not for reasons of integrity or because he thinks his appeal will be denied.  He will drop it because, after today, the Indians’ schedule will allow him to do so without suffering any negative impact whatsoever.

The Tribe have a day off on Thursday, which means manager Manny Acta can simply skip Jimenez in the rotation next week.  His number won’t be up to pitch again until Saturday April 14, by which point his suspension will have been “served”.

You don’t need a PhD in math to understand that if you suspend a pitcher for five games, at worst he will miss one start because teams generally have five starting pitchers in rotation.  The impact is that a fellow pitcher will have to pitch on four days rest, and the bullpen will likely end up working a few extra innings to fill the gap for that one game — unless there is a day off in the schedule.

If Major League Baseball wants suspensions to be anything more than a slap on the wrist for pitchers, they need to take the five game rotation system into account.  A five game suspension barely registers for a pitcher, as opposed to a catcher, for example.  If straight arrow Buster Posey were ever to lose his cool à la Yadier Molina, Giants fans would likely see back-up, back-up catcher Pablo Sandoval behind the plate.

Nobody, least of all Pablo, wants that.

Deconstructing Barry

Barry Zito, Spring Training

There once was a Giant named Barry
A burden the team had to carry
From season to season, we all know the reason.
His contract was ironclad. Very.

Pitching was his chosen vocation
But his fastball lacked speed and location.
Back in 2010, he tried to be Zen
Then walked his way out of rotation.

This season he’s back and he’s “tweaking”
His delivery, technically speaking.
He hopes he can be taught, to maintain his arm slot.
If he were a ship, he’d be sinking.

He’s still throwing more balls than strikes
A thing that opposing teams like.
We Giants fans grieve, we will get no reprieve.
He has no plans to hang up his spikes.