Tag Archives: Tim Lincecum

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Baseball’s poetics: Down the stretch with the “2-1″ Giants, and then Velez scores

I have refrained from commenting too much on the Giants this year. I’ve watched or listened to every game, and lived and died with every one run victory.

Last night may have been the last straw for this SF native.  

Maybe the difference was that it was the Dodgers and Lincecum was on the mound for us. These are always meaningful games beyond the standings. Once again, Timmy was brilliant. But for a Giants pitcher to win a game by himself, he has to be brilliant plus.

The Giants staked him a 1 run lead.

A one-run-lead should be like giving salad to meat-eaters. It’s just the appetizer, right?

For the Giants, it’s the whole meal.

It takes four runs for the Giants to be bullet-proof. Unfortunately, this season it takes them four games to score that many.

Last night the Giants barely got three hits.

For this reason, I dub the 2011 team  “2-1” Giants.  No typo, it’s “Two to one.”  It’s emblematic of the ideal score and the most vigorous display of team offense this year. When we win, that is. Otherwise, it’s 2-1, Giants lose. Like last night.

We have been talking about this lack of offense for the last 5 years at least.  

“Get a slugger” has long been a refrain since the lament, “When Benjie Molina bats cleanup you’re in trouble.” But the Giants have always managed to be entertaining.  Hapless, nerf-bat swinging, not so-giant Giants.  I watched, I rooted, I cried. Losing was the norm. Close, but not close enough. Whatcha going to do? Root for the A’s?

Then 2010 came and the timely hitting and the luck played out. I went to every post-season game, to the parade, bought every T-shirt, the works.

Our reward in 2011 has been  a return to pre-2010. No laughers here. It’s baseball by the pitch. When you have a pitching team, that’s the way it is. You score one run, and your pitchers have to hold.  Makes for a tense,  frustrating game, because arms can’t score.

Love the K’s. But you can’t throw the ball over the fence and call it a home run for our side.

And when the defense fails and a cheap run for the other team scores, a pinprick turns into a dagger.

That happened last night with the Dodgers and their pinch-runner, Eugenio Velez.

Velez was part of those pre-2010 Giants teams,  the ones that made us sift and sort the Giants of the future. Would it be Bowker? Would it be pre-panda Panda?  Freddy Lewis?  Velez? Who would be Giant enough?

Velez had his shot. He did things with his bat and his speed, then he  undid most of it with his glove.  He had his time as a stick-figure lovable hero.  Amy G had him on. I was always bothered by how they pronounced his name. “Ay-you-henio? ” “You-henio” seems more like it. “Gene”?  “Gino”? The guy didn’t get to nickname status. No panda, no baby giraffe. No gazelle (for his speed).

When he was out of a job and found guys like Burriss and Ford back, it must have been tough for him. How oddly satisfying it must have been for him to put his spikes on home plate and score the run that would put the Giants eight-and-a-half games back.

That’s baseball’s poetics, folks. The tragedy has a beginning, middle and end.

The Giants were like a mythic tale last year. This year, they’re still an entertaining  page turner, but just a summer read, and now not likely at all to go deep into October.

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Where’s mom? New York Times Magazine tries to get to the heart of Tim Lincecum with no mention of his proud Filipino heritage from his mother’s side

The new New York Times Magazine article on Tim Lincecum was fine. And I’m glad to see no less than the French Huguenots mentioned in the comment section on line as an explanation for Lincecum’s fighting spirit.

But let’s not leave out the distaff side.

In fact, reporter Mahler’s story is typical of the Lincecum narrative seen in the mainstream media.

Lincecum’s mom, Rebecca, is always left out of the story.  She’s a full-blooded Filipino American, born in the Philippines,  surname Asis. It’s a fact that the ethnic media has long picked up on, making Tim arguably the best Asian American athlete in professional sports.

In this era of diversity, that’s no small feat.

Reportedly, Lincecum doesn’t like to talk about his mom because his parents divorced about 8 years ago.

But Lincecum does acknowledge his Filipino roots when the  Giants’ have their Filipino American nights.  Lincecum took  the first pitch from Manny Pacquiao two years ago before one of the heritage events.  Still, mainstream stories always neglect any mention of his bi-racial heritage.  Why leave out that fact?
What’s the relevance in the star’s story? It may help explain questions about his size and body type. But it may also provide insight on why he’s such a complex athlete/personality.

More than anything else, Lincecum is a tremendous source of pride for the Filipino American community, forever under-represented in American society.   Why should the French Huegonots be alone in their claim to Lincecum’s achievements?  the guy’s half-Filipino. And  there’s never been a Filipino American in sports, let alone baseball, like him. Certainily not since  Benny Agbayani had that great year for the Mets.

But now Tim has surpassed them all!  

http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/03/11/little-big-man/

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Oh, by the way, “The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant!” And here’s how they’ll win the 2010 World Series

Giants baseball, torture? 

Torture is more torturuorus remotely, when you can’t see the game live or even on TV. Try getting the info on the web by Smartphone from a not so convenient spot. But there we were at the Millennium Restaurant’s backroom waiting for every download. And when the screen flashed that Howard struck out looking, there was no prompting needed. That was it. The Giants were in. The Giants fans in the room toasted, gave the Russ Hodges’ cheer, then returned to our tempeh.

But when I got home I wore out the DVR. I couldn’t get enough.  As a long-suffering native, I’ve been admiring this team’s four year  evolution from the arrival of Lincecum. It’s always been entertaining, but who wants to be a loveable loser?

 The final pieces didn’t come together until this May. First Posey, then Burrell, then Ross, Ramirez and Lopez. 

And now the team feels like a real team.  A real championship ensemble, a cast of characters with no real superstars like Giants teams of old. There’s no a Mays or a Will the Thrill or a Barry.  The Rangers are that type of team this year with Josh Hamilton. The Giants are crafted differently. It’s like Brian Sabean went down to the “pick and pull” to put together a race car. Hardly, a Ferrari, but when all the cylinders are firing, it’s enough to get to the finish line by a nose.

I predicted the Giants in 6 against the Phils.  This time, I figure the Giants will win the first two at home, with Lincecum and Cain. Cody Ross will again be a key performer, but Posey and Burrell will also liven up. And so will Pablo Sandoval. In Texas, the Rangers will show off their stuff and take two of three, with Lincecum winning game 5. The team returns to SF with a 3-2 series edge. Game 6 will be closed out by Matt Cain,  a nice antitdote to the mid-term election disaster that’s looming. We’ll all need an escape from the impending doom, and the Giants will be there to keep our minds off the heavy matters.  And why not, the history will be thick. The Giants win at home, the first time ever in SF, and the first time since 1954 for the franchise.

That’s the dream.  Believe it.

I’m taking inventory of what I wore on that night  Wilson struck out Howard. Lucky clothing? I think it was my  socks with the border collies on it.

My border collie’s  doesn’t  hit. But boy can he catch a frisbee.  His name? Coincidentally, it’s  just like the NLCS MVP.

Ross.

Update:

Watching different media. Unbelievable how the Giants get no respect for going through Oswalt, Halladay and Hamels.  No love for the Giants from national media. But that’s good. The Giants are the underdog in the Underdog World Series.

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The dominance of Lincecum, the roar of the crowd, the power of baseball

As a young boy, my earliest and lasting memories as a SF Giants fan were the resounding cheers for the heroes of ’62:  Cepada, McCovey, and Mays—but especially Mays.  

He didn’t have to do anything but come to the plate and have his name announced and Candlestick Park would quake.  

I’ve never really experienced anything live at any baseball game that could ever come close to the roar Mays could inspire.

Maybe I just haven’t been to the right games in person.

 But yesterday I was. Game 1 NLDS, Braves and Giants, Tim Lincecum’s first post-season start.

That’s when I heard it again: AT&T Park reached and surpassed the mythic roar of my Candlestick.

Electric crowd?  It was practically nuclear.  When the focus is all on Lincecum, the wunderkind pitcher, it’s not just a sporadic burst of cheers every nine batters for a star like Mays.  It’s pitch by pitch throughout the entire game.  And just as in the days of old, before the baseball gods created the closer, Lincecum pitched the entire game (119 pitches).

Lincecum’s dominance really was quite deceptive. In retrospect, there’s no question that to the Braves, Lincecum was untouchable. But when you’re at the game, the electricity is like an unbroken circuit. You’re living and dying with every pitch, and totally in the moment. Dominance isn’t a reality until the last out is recorded.  And then you look back and realize the Freak has 14 strikeouts, and by golly, the Giants one run has held up.  

The 14 K’s were the most in franchise history since the ’62 Giants, when it was ace Jack Sanford who rung up 10 Yankees.

I was happy to hear the stat, mostly because it brought up the name of an oft forgotten Giant.

Sanford who passed away in 2000 at age 70, was another favorite of mine.  He won 16 consecutive games in 1962 to propel the Giants to the pennant that year.  Normally, Juan Marichal’s name comes up when people remember the arms of ’62.  But to me Sanford was the guy that year, his only really stellar year.

As the Giants surged to win the NL West on the last day of the season, there was lots of talk about 62. But few, if any, ever mentioned Sanford, until Lincecum took the mound tonight.

This was just  Lincecum’s first outing, a harbinger of more greatness to come, as if two Cy Young awards in his first two full years didn’t already indicate that.   Lincecum had a rough August, but his return to form in September continues into  October.

He’s got his Filipino side in him working again.

Next for the Giants comes Matt Cain, then Jonathan Sanchez. And Madison Bumgarner.   And Lincecum again.  And when they tire, Brian Wilson and the bearded and unbearded pen lay in waiting.

With those arms maybe all you do  need is a couple of hits, a walk, and a run scored on a double play.  (The Giants have 159 or so of those this year).

I’m almost as old as the number on Timmy’s back. But I haven’t felt this way about baseball since I was a kid.  

On Thursday, I saw it, and heard it. I’m going back for more.