Haren pitches a complete game on Saturday, which means drinks are on the bullpen. A hundred and thirteen pitches, nine strikeouts (dubious hat trick for Mark DeRosa), and one unearned run (Stephen Drew owes him a drink, too, for that missed catch). It's a close game, seven scoreless innings by Barry Zito, but Upton hits a two-run shot off Affeldt in the eighth that turns out to be just enough to get Haren the win.
Kennedy watches the game from the visitor's bench with Kelly Johnson, who's got the night off, jawing his ear off about something. His shoulder is a little sore from his bullpen session that afternoon, but it's the good kind of ache, the kind that means he's doing it right. He's pitching Monday, Dodger Stadium against Padilla, and he feels pretty good about his prospects.
The Giants look dejected, sad in their home whites as they trickle off the field after Uribe pops out to end the game. Kennedy dutifully follows his teammates out onto the field to bump fists and pat asses, grinning with LaRoche and both Jacksons.
Haren is already planning the night out as they head back to the locker room. Kennedy figures that's fair; Haren did live across the Bay for years, after all, knows all of this better than any of the rest of them. Edwin Jackson bows out gracefully, starting tomorrow and all, tells Kennedy to do a shot for him. Haren vows it will happen, and then Qualls and Boyer are talking about brands of Irish whisky, and then somehow everyone is showered and dressed and piling into taxis. Kennedy is a little bewildered already, and he's got a feeling his whole night is going to feel like that.
He texts Allison to let her know what's happening, going out with some of the guys, Haren's showing us SF. She texts back, have fun! <3 and he grins until Qualls, crammed next to him in the backseat, starts to make fun of him.
The club Haren has chosen is near the waterfront, Kennedy figures, the air damp-smelling and cold even this late in May. He sort of tumbles out of the cab, has to be helped to his feet by Conor Jackson, who slings his arm around Kennedy's shoulders and declares his intentions for getting incredibly fucked up. Jackson can get away with it, not starting tomorrow with Cain on the hill and his groin bothering him again.
Inside, it's dark and humid and loud. Kennedy loses Jackson just inside the door but finds himself with Qualls and Haren, who seems to be looking for someone in the crowd. Kennedy starts to ask Qualls who's getting the first round when Haren raises both of his hands and shouts into the crowd, "Over here! Z!"
And then Barry Zito appears out of the ether and crowd, wearing a button-down shirt with a subtle paisley pattern, badly needing a shave. Qualls scoffs, "Fraternization, Danny. What the fuck?" but Haren just grabs Zito by the shoulder and yanks him in for one of his famous rib-cracking bear-hugs. Kenney got one the first time they met at Spring Training and it left him gasping when it was done, because apparently Haren had never gotten used to being huge and strong
Zito has a sort of hangdog look on his face, which is just ridiculous considering how well he's pitching this year. Kennedy wishes his lines looked as good. He hopes he looks as good when he's Zito's age, hopes he pitches as well as Zito did tonight. The only time Zito looks anything other than exhausted is when he knows Haren is looking at him, and he tries to smile as crazily as Haren must expect. Haren doesn't notice anything amiss, but he's also getting drunker and drunker as Qualls and Gutierrez and Boyer stop by one by one with alcohol, not to mention probably still a little adrenaline-high from nine beautiful innings and a win that has them within three of the Giants and the lead in the West.
Haren mentions something about USC to Zito, because the CWS is looming up pretty close and USC is looking good. "Hey, you both went there!" Haren says, glancing at Kennedy and grinning so wide his molars are visible. Something annoyed flashes across Zito's face, like he'd like to pinch Haren somewhere tender, then he turns to Kennedy and smiles faintly.
"Men of Troy?" he asks.
Kennedy smiles. "Go Trojans," he replies.
Zito's smile relaxes and kicks up a few notches, and some of the cloudiness clears from his eyes. "Let me buy you a drink, kid," he says.
Kennedy watches the game from the visitor's bench with Kelly Johnson, who's got the night off, jawing his ear off about something. His shoulder is a little sore from his bullpen session that afternoon, but it's the good kind of ache, the kind that means he's doing it right. He's pitching Monday, Dodger Stadium against Padilla, and he feels pretty good about his prospects.
The Giants look dejected, sad in their home whites as they trickle off the field after Uribe pops out to end the game. Kennedy dutifully follows his teammates out onto the field to bump fists and pat asses, grinning with LaRoche and both Jacksons.
Haren is already planning the night out as they head back to the locker room. Kennedy figures that's fair; Haren did live across the Bay for years, after all, knows all of this better than any of the rest of them. Edwin Jackson bows out gracefully, starting tomorrow and all, tells Kennedy to do a shot for him. Haren vows it will happen, and then Qualls and Boyer are talking about brands of Irish whisky, and then somehow everyone is showered and dressed and piling into taxis. Kennedy is a little bewildered already, and he's got a feeling his whole night is going to feel like that.
He texts Allison to let her know what's happening, going out with some of the guys, Haren's showing us SF. She texts back, have fun! <3 and he grins until Qualls, crammed next to him in the backseat, starts to make fun of him.
The club Haren has chosen is near the waterfront, Kennedy figures, the air damp-smelling and cold even this late in May. He sort of tumbles out of the cab, has to be helped to his feet by Conor Jackson, who slings his arm around Kennedy's shoulders and declares his intentions for getting incredibly fucked up. Jackson can get away with it, not starting tomorrow with Cain on the hill and his groin bothering him again.
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And then Barry Zito appears out of the ether and crowd, wearing a button-down shirt with a subtle paisley pattern, badly needing a shave. Qualls scoffs, "Fraternization, Danny. What the fuck?" but Haren just grabs Zito by the shoulder and yanks him in for one of his famous rib-cracking bear-hugs. Kenney got one the first time they met at Spring Training and it left him gasping when it was done, because apparently Haren had never gotten used to being huge and strong
Zito has a sort of hangdog look on his face, which is just ridiculous considering how well he's pitching this year. Kennedy wishes his lines looked as good. He hopes he looks as good when he's Zito's age, hopes he pitches as well as Zito did tonight. The only time Zito looks anything other than exhausted is when he knows Haren is looking at him, and he tries to smile as crazily as Haren must expect. Haren doesn't notice anything amiss, but he's also getting drunker and drunker as Qualls and Gutierrez and Boyer stop by one by one with alcohol, not to mention probably still a little adrenaline-high from nine beautiful innings and a win that has them within three of the Giants and the lead in the West.
Haren mentions something about USC to Zito, because the CWS is looming up pretty close and USC is looking good. "Hey, you both went there!" Haren says, glancing at Kennedy and grinning so wide his molars are visible. Something annoyed flashes across Zito's face, like he'd like to pinch Haren somewhere tender, then he turns to Kennedy and smiles faintly.
"Men of Troy?" he asks.
Kennedy smiles. "Go Trojans," he replies.
Zito's smile relaxes and kicks up a few notches, and some of the cloudiness clears from his eyes. "Let me buy you a drink, kid," he says.
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