Monday, July 06, 2009
When Aaron Rowand went up hacking at West's first two offerings tonight, it seemed like more of the same, but luckily the team was able to work the count a little and put some runners on for Sandoval's blast (though it helped that West suddenly couldn't find the plate when faced against Cain and his mighty .194 batting average). The win pushes the team ever closer to that magical "10 games over .500" plateau that no one in their right mind imagined the Giants would reach this year.
As far as Sandoval's rise to the ranks of Giants royalty goes, I couldn't have put it better myself. So you know what to do. Go here, get your ballot box-stuffing gloves on, and mouse click like you've never mouse clicked before. There's no limit to this thing, so if you have an hour to kill, and are willing to risk an arthritic right finger, vote away. I've already voted ten times, and I'm sure there's another fifty in me before the night's through. Seriously, I'll have memorized every number combo on that stupid verification line in no time.
More about Pablo: Remember back to the time when we were all worried that his inability to take pitches would be the death of his career? Yeah, all the way back in early April? Well, if you're into the whole "on pace" thing, Sandoval is now on pace to draw about 45 walks. That's not Barry Bonds, but it's way more than we could ever have imagined after watching him swing at everything and its mom's dog last season. Couple that improved plate approach to the fact that he's been essentially a net even at third base (at least according to UZR), and it's safe to say he's exceeded our lofty expectations. The superlatives just won't stop.
--Brian Wilson is getting the job done in the sense that he's racking up saves by giving up two runs with a three-run lead and driving us all insane. That's nice, I guess. Please, though, Giants marketing department, stop treating him like he's this shutdown closer who makes opposing hitters quiver in their spikes. He just isn't that good. If I have to watch that ridiculous mafia/meat commercial where Tim Lincecum flips him the ball at the end one more time, I'm jumping off the nearest flight of stairs.
Few epitomize the asininity (real word? I'm going with it!) of the save stat than Wilson, where mediocre pitchers are celebrated as heroes based on a dumb number tallied solely on some rather arbitrary definition of a late-game situation. Hey, I guess it's the only way Ryan Franklin gets into an All-Star game, though.