tears
Dear diary,
Uggghhh! Everything is so awful right now! Things were going okay for me for a while but now the sorrow is back big time and it's getting hard to fight it.
First of all, my foot hurts a lot. Part of the reason it hurts is because Schmidtty made me carry his bags yesterday. He said his arm has been feeling weird and he might start to suck again if I didn't carry his stuff. So in the best interests of the team I felt I should help him out, even though I think it would've made more sense to ask some rookie to do something like that. It put a lot of undue pressure on my foot, and the doctors tell me I should stay off it as much as possible if I don't want it to develop into a stress fracture. I don't, but it's hard to stay off my feet without a Hoveround.
So then today I watched a lot of the game from the clubhouse while I iced the foot and Noah came down to hang out with me a little bit. That was nice because it gets awfully lonely when it's just you and a bucket of ice. Then the trainers showed up rather unexpectedly so we decided to go watch the rest of the game from the dugout and diary... guess what, we lost in heartbreaking fashion AGAIN! Kev Correia was lights out through 4, had a near-meltdown in the 5th but got out of it only giving up one run, and then Felipe stupidly sent him out to pitch the 6th and he gives up a 2-run homer to Andruw Jones after walking the leadoff man! I know what you're thinking, diary. Something about Cream of Wheat, right?
In the ninth we rallied from a 4-1 deficit to tie it, and OMG diary, it was a really great rally... the kind that brings happy tears to your eyes because it happened at a time when we were feeling really low. Then LaTroy held on in the bottom of the ninth. After we didn't score in the 10th we figured it was over because Ty was coming in and he has affectionately been given the name Ty Blower because he seems to blow all of our ties. (Man, Schmidtty comes up with the funniest nicknames!) But he was AWESOME in the 10th and 11th, much to everyone's shock. In the 12th we had to use Noah to pinch hit because our bench is short right now and that turned out to be our last chance. Coop walked two guys in the bottom of the inning and gave up the winning base hit with two outs. I don't blame him, he just threw seven innings on Sunday so he had to be tired.
If you're keeping score diary, that's kick in the junk #48 for the 2005 San Francisco Giants. Most of the time this season we don't simply lose, we lose in the manner that makes you feel as if you've been punched in the stomach and then kicked in the teeth while you're rolling around on the ground wondering what you did to get punched in the stomach. Then whoever punched you and kicked you steals your iPod and runs away and you're just like, "What did I do? WHAT DID I DO?" You were just sitting there drinking a green tea frap and reading US Weekly and suddenly you've been brutally assaulted. That's what it feels like to be a Giant.
Sometimes I have no idea why I'm considering re-signing with this team, we are clearly doomed forever. But there's almost this weird beauty in the futility of it all. The players, the fans, the management... we fight and rally and hope and cheer when we all know deep down, no matter what, things will go horribly wrong for us in the end. But we still fight, we still believe that maybe next time it will be different. This kind of stuff inspires poetry about the resilience of the human spirit. What we need here in SF is a group of guys stubborn enough to look right into the eyes of our fated doom and spit in its face. I want to be one of those guys.
Until then, I'll just be here in my hotel room sobbing into my pillow.
Love,
Brett
Uggghhh! Everything is so awful right now! Things were going okay for me for a while but now the sorrow is back big time and it's getting hard to fight it.
First of all, my foot hurts a lot. Part of the reason it hurts is because Schmidtty made me carry his bags yesterday. He said his arm has been feeling weird and he might start to suck again if I didn't carry his stuff. So in the best interests of the team I felt I should help him out, even though I think it would've made more sense to ask some rookie to do something like that. It put a lot of undue pressure on my foot, and the doctors tell me I should stay off it as much as possible if I don't want it to develop into a stress fracture. I don't, but it's hard to stay off my feet without a Hoveround.
So then today I watched a lot of the game from the clubhouse while I iced the foot and Noah came down to hang out with me a little bit. That was nice because it gets awfully lonely when it's just you and a bucket of ice. Then the trainers showed up rather unexpectedly so we decided to go watch the rest of the game from the dugout and diary... guess what, we lost in heartbreaking fashion AGAIN! Kev Correia was lights out through 4, had a near-meltdown in the 5th but got out of it only giving up one run, and then Felipe stupidly sent him out to pitch the 6th and he gives up a 2-run homer to Andruw Jones after walking the leadoff man! I know what you're thinking, diary. Something about Cream of Wheat, right?
In the ninth we rallied from a 4-1 deficit to tie it, and OMG diary, it was a really great rally... the kind that brings happy tears to your eyes because it happened at a time when we were feeling really low. Then LaTroy held on in the bottom of the ninth. After we didn't score in the 10th we figured it was over because Ty was coming in and he has affectionately been given the name Ty Blower because he seems to blow all of our ties. (Man, Schmidtty comes up with the funniest nicknames!) But he was AWESOME in the 10th and 11th, much to everyone's shock. In the 12th we had to use Noah to pinch hit because our bench is short right now and that turned out to be our last chance. Coop walked two guys in the bottom of the inning and gave up the winning base hit with two outs. I don't blame him, he just threw seven innings on Sunday so he had to be tired.
If you're keeping score diary, that's kick in the junk #48 for the 2005 San Francisco Giants. Most of the time this season we don't simply lose, we lose in the manner that makes you feel as if you've been punched in the stomach and then kicked in the teeth while you're rolling around on the ground wondering what you did to get punched in the stomach. Then whoever punched you and kicked you steals your iPod and runs away and you're just like, "What did I do? WHAT DID I DO?" You were just sitting there drinking a green tea frap and reading US Weekly and suddenly you've been brutally assaulted. That's what it feels like to be a Giant.
Sometimes I have no idea why I'm considering re-signing with this team, we are clearly doomed forever. But there's almost this weird beauty in the futility of it all. The players, the fans, the management... we fight and rally and hope and cheer when we all know deep down, no matter what, things will go horribly wrong for us in the end. But we still fight, we still believe that maybe next time it will be different. This kind of stuff inspires poetry about the resilience of the human spirit. What we need here in SF is a group of guys stubborn enough to look right into the eyes of our fated doom and spit in its face. I want to be one of those guys.
Until then, I'll just be here in my hotel room sobbing into my pillow.
Love,
Brett