It’s a full day when in the morning you ran alongside (and dodged) thousands of drunken Bay To Breakers revelers and still managed to listen to Marty Lurie for a full two hours in the evening while making Pad Thai. Mmmm, Pad Thai.
No costumes for the fiance and I, just our normal running clothes. Call me a scrooge, but I have no interest in wearing a wig or costume while running the 5-mile distance from our apartment to the beach, then walking back the same direction against a human current of Modelo-swilling guys and gals dressed as watermelons, BLT ingredients and bees (so many bee costumes). But it’s fun to watch so many people get canned on the street in front of police officers (especially the people brave enough to taunt the cops by shaking their asses at them), and I’m glad to say that it IS possible to become desensitized to the sight of man-junk getting pulled away from one’s groin by what looks like a very uncomfortable plastic ring apparatus. I think the final tally on the day in terms of anatomy seen was 18 boobs and somewhere between 35 and eleventy schmillion schlongs.
And in The City yesterday, you either lined up for the nearest porta-potty in the Panhandle (oh, who am I kidding, I mean the nearest tree) or if your favorite song is “Hip to be Square” you probably lined up for hours to get a Willie Mays Bobblehead. Lurie made several mentions of this yesterday evening — and surprisingly lightning didn’t strike him one time — the Giants are pretty shady to only provide half the park’s patrons with the popular giveaway items like bobbleheads and wizard costumes. Lurie described as “not thoughtful,” and I’m pretty sure that if Lurie said the same about me I’d feel almost as bad as if my dad said I disappointed him. Hopefully the Giants will worry more about goodwill than pregame concession sales, but something tells me that’s a longshot.
Two out of three ain’t bad
— The above sub-headline isn’t about the Giants’ series against the Astros (yes, I am aware the Astros were swept again), but about Brian Wilson, who earned more respect from this writer (hey!) over the weekend than anytime other than that time during “The Life of Brian” when he … OK, bad example. Seriously though, there are three qualities an elite closer can have, and if they don’t have two of them they’ll be destined for journeyman status.
1. An above-average fastball, averaging at least 93 mph (check)
2. A wicked secondary pitch, a la Robb Nen’s slider (um, not so much)
3. The ability to stay calm regardless of the situation (check)
Wilson’s got 1 and 3 locked down, and luckily Kaz Matsui’s career is coming to a quick end so the secondary pitch didn’t have to be so great yesterday. Wilson’s fastball is a great pitch, but it isn’t legendary. Where he may end up making his mark is the focus he displays when everyone in the stadium is ready to jump out of their own skin. Bases loaded, 3-2 count, doesn’t matter. He does that thing where he closes his eyes for a few seconds and directs his attention to the plate, and somehow stays calmer than every single person watching (or even playing) the game. And the guy’s a beast, one of the rare closers you don’t feel like you have to baby all the time. I almost feel bad for ripping “Life of” to such a degree last season. Alright, that’s a lie.
— I love watching Nate Schierholtz field, but every time he hits I’m absolutely shocked when the at-bat doesn’t result in a grounder to second base. Nate. Please. Everyone wants you to start in right field for the next 5-to-10 years. Put both cheeks into that swing from time to time.
— I also love watching Andres Torres run the bases. Most economical stride I’ve ever seen a baseball player have; I almost expect him to pass a baton to Tim Flannery as he rounds third. Interesting that he isn’t substantially faster than Eugenio Velez, whose running style is about as economical as a Humvee.
— I find myself in a tough spot regarding the Sharks, because I am most decidedly NOT an expert in hockey. But that said, I’m still going to throw out some misguided analysis, so bear with me. While the Sharks seem more talented and more athletic, Chicago just seems better for some reason. Like the Sharks’ plan is to pepper the goalie with as many shots as possible from every angle, hoping a few get by the Blackhawks’ goaltender Antti Niemi. Compare that to the Hawks, who seemed to run more precise plays when they were on the attack. You know, passes that confused the defensemen, each guy knowing which spot his teammates should be in. For the Sharks to win this series, they need to play within themselves and stop all trying to be the individual hero who makes the crowd roar. OK, I’m done.
— Alright, one more thing: yesterday’s game was HD eye candy. At one point while playing fetch with Lincepom when she stopped playing to eat her kibble, I sat on the coffee table about three feet from the screen and stared for about 10 minutes. Luckily SGL didn’t care because she was busy organizing wedding stuff on the computer, like she does EVERY WAKING MOMENT THAT ISN’T SPENT WORKING. Good thing, too, because if the planning was left to me we’d all be eating these for dinner.