I’ve missed a lot of games this season. What have I done instead? You name it. Today, I went and saw a film called Sarah’s Key. (It was a solid film with a great story and great acting by Kristin Scott Thomas. Unfortunately, the director sort of lost his way and it ultimately didn’t accomplish quite what it could have.) And the other day I watched an episode of Project Runway with the fiance — Ya, you read that right, and it’s a pretty entertaining show even if you 1) know nothing of fashion and 2) are not female. A couple of weeks before that I simply went to Half Moon Bay for the day. On nearly every occasion, everything that I’ve done instead of watching the game has been wildly more satisfying.
In addition to missing games, I’ve also not been paying terribly close attention to the games, even when I am watching. It’s more fun to follow my Twitter timeline than watch this team play baseball. Well, when they’re trying to score runs anyway. Can you blame me? Watching Aaron Rowand (.233/.274/.348) strike out on three consecutive sliders isn’t exactly riveting stuff. Nor is it particularly appealing when Miguel Tejada graces my television for another major league at-bat. That happened this afternoon, and for the first time all season I regret my not being more dialed in.
Here’s the basic order of events: 1) Tejada–who has a season line of .237/.268/.324, and this is important–was asked to bunt. 2) Tejada proceeded to act like he was Willie Mays and that the idea of him being asked to bunt was preposterous. 3) Tejada put down a perfectly acceptable sacrifice bunt. 4) Tejada lightly jogged to first and put absolutely no pressure on the defense. Veteran move!
Tejada’s reaction after Tim Flannery asking him to bunt could only be described as incredulous. Flannery went up and spoke to Tejada directly to make it clear he was to lay one down. After that, Tejada actually turned around and looked like he said something to his third base coach after Flannery ran back to his position. Then Tejada headed to the plate with a smirk:
Do yourself a favor and read the whole thing.
So the point of this article isn’t to dive much deeper into the subject–I don’t have much or anything to add to what BASG had to say. Rather, the point of this article is that I’ve simply had my fill. I’m sick of the veterans. I’m sick of the ridiculous lineups. I’m sick of Rowand, and Tejada, and Orlando Cabrera (.244/.274/.313). I’m sick and tired of them all. I may be wrong about this. Heck, I probably am wrong about this: the only thing that I could find satisfying–even more than them resurrecting themselves, catching Arizona and (presumably) getting destroyed in the first round of the playoffs–would be if the Giants purged themselves of these old, once-useful players (mostly long before they were Giants), replacing them with young, energetic rookies.
Why not? The Giants aren’t making any waves in October if they happen trip into the dance. No way. They’re awful. There are 10 teams in the National League with a better run differential than the Giants. Among those teams isn’t just the Diamondbacks, but every single one of their NL West foes. That’s right. Every. Single. Team. The Dodgers? Check. The Padres? Check. Rockies? Check. Arizona? Of course. This team isn’t going anywhere, isn’t doing anything.
So I’d love to see Gary Brown. I’d even love to see Conor Gillaspie and Francisco Peguero and Joe Panik. I know that’s ridiculous. I know these guys aren’t remotely ready to contribute at the major league level. But the truth is, I’d much rather see these guys get a chance and, ultimately, fail spectacularly. At least that would represent a willingness of the Giants to try something new. Because, by golly, how many times can you run these over-the-hill, can’t-hit-a-slider, won’t-run-out-a-bunt, punchless veterans, get absolutely nothing out of them, and repeat?
Of course, you know the answer to that question. So do I. The answer, I suspect, is as many times as it takes.