Kuzul

Friday marked the sixth time Bleacher Report and I have been welcomed into the press box at the Oakland Coliseum. My five previous trips were all stellar experiences, but this one felt different the minute I crossed the parking lot’s threshold.

Generally when I arrive around 3:30 pm, the lot is dotted with one hand’s worth of early birds. Today, the number was closer to triple digits.

Barbecues were in full smoke, games of catch featuring both footballs and baseballs were breaking out, and there was a general air of festivity hanging over the scene.

Once inside the stadium, the special atmosphere only got thicker.

More than a few t-shirts amongst the media members had been replaced by suits and ties, glitterati from the Bay Area press were out in full force, and there was even a cluster of representatives from a Chinese television station that were clearly there for the spectacle and nothing else.

When you’re pulling dudes to a baseball game who have to ask what a perfect game is, you know you’re a big deal.

To remove any doubt that the day was unique, Oakland manager Bob Geren was downright jovial in his session with the media. Heretofore, I’d only seen a no-nonsense version face the barrage of questions.

This time, however, he was hamming it up with Kate Longworth of CSN Bay Area and kidding around with other reporters in the pool.

Sure, the pregame ceremony celebrating Dallas Braden’s perfect game had something to do with the warm-fuzzies.

The southpaw was already popular with Oakland Athletic fans, but he vaulted into “adored” status following the stout defense of his pitching mound from the onrushing hordes (yes, a juiced up Alex Rodriguez counts as a horde). Consequently, the perfecto he twirled on Mother’s Day launched him into even more cherished territory.

Possibly divine.

So more than a few of the faithful were there to see the home team honor Stockton’s favorite son. Furthermore, baseball history typically puts a smile on the organization that authors it.

Nevertheless, this was more about the main event—the first game of the 2010 Bay Bridge Series between the A’s and their cross-Bay rivals, the San Francisco Giants.

For many baseball aficionados in the City and Oakland, this is as good as it gets on a diamond.

Major League Baseball’s Northern Californian constituents have met 74 times since Interleague play began and rarely fail to deliver a tense, exciting game. To that end, familiarity has only nurtured contempt bred by the 1989 Bay Bridge World Series—at least as far as the fans are concerned.

The green and gold leads the regular season confrontations with a 39-35 record as it does the postseason meetings (13-5). All is not gloom and doom for the Orange and Black, though, as it has taken seven of the last eight contests, so it’s a nip/tuck type affair.

The current iteration promises to bring more of the same.

Both franchises come into the series deploying a similar formula to win—superlative pitching, solid defense (better than that in Oaktown’s case), and timely hitting. If matchups make a metaphoric fight, this three-gamer should be a bloody knuckle war of attrition because both sides have had success with the approach.

Granted, some of the attrition has already started as the pair comes in scuffling.

San Francisco has fallen all the way to third place in the National League West, courtesy of a recent jag that’s seen the fellas lose eight of their last 13 games and three of four. As has been the case all year, los Gigantes had a devil of a time navigating local waters—dropping six of those eight to NL West foes in the San Diego Padres and Arizona Diamondbacks.

Meanwhile, the smell emanating from the Elephants’ dugout is no sweeter.

The Athletics have eaten L’s in seven of their last nine trips to the yard, including two straight after a couple of victories over the Seattle Mariners broke a five-game slide. Coincidentally, all five were against American League West opponents.

In other words, it was the classic “something’s got to give” scenario.

Give it did as the Athletics touched up a resurgent Barry Zito.

The Junior Circuit reps used some very well-placed, bloop doubles to conjure up a trio of runs in the bottom of the third inning and didn’t look back from there. The Gents’ lefty pitched well before tiring in the seventh, but the knocks came in bunches and the result was a six-spot on the scoreboard before he hit the showers.

Ex-Giant Rajai Davis, who tipped his hand early with a loud batting practice, was the main culprit. The speedster landed the most crippling of the bloopers in the third, stole third base, and notched a sacrifice fly to plate the third of his three RBI from the No. 9 hole.

On the mound, a suffocating blend of Trevor Cahill, Brad Ziegler, and Craig Breslow kept the San Francisco lumber in check—an increasingly easy task at the moment. In fairness, the visiting offense did manage to bang out eight hits.

Alas, the Oakland hurlers were able to sprinkle the damage harmlessly throughout the nine frames (only John Bowker tallied a run for SF) and secure a much-needed W.

In so doing, the home team tied a neat bow on an ideal evening for the organization.

And it ruined one for the San Francisco Giants.

**www.pva.org**

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

One of the greatest things about receiving a press pass is the on-field access that comes with it.

Since I’m not allowed in the clubhouse—the Oakland Athletics were extremely gracious to extend the credential to Bleacher Report and (indirectly) me in the first place, but they didn’t take COMPLETE leave of their senses—the time on the field before the game is my only chance to soak in a perspective of Major League Baseball that most aficionados never get.

The press box is definitely cool, but it’s not all that different than watching a game with some of your most critical/passionate buddies.

In truth, I actually think the pre-game field experience is preferable to the locker room—that is the team’s territory and I never like trespassing where I don’t belong even when invited.

Plus, it’s kind of like a zoo where the attractions are on display and they know it.

Even the most genuine interaction feels a bit artificial and the responses carefully calculated.

Granted, my exposure is limited to my first visit at the Oakland Coliseum when the powers-that-be forgot to eliminate my clubhouse access and I wandered through it accidentally (that might sound preposterous, but the tunnels all look the same and it was my maiden voyage—I walked up some stairs and was suddenly in a carpeted locker room).

By comparison, the diamond is more of a middle ground.

Yes, it belongs to the men in uniform, but there are enough interlopers roaming the grounds that ownership can’t be considered exclusive (until the first pitch, that is).

More importantly, the field is like a safari—the stars still know they’re on display, but the remoteness of the observation allows for a more comfortable and organic experience.

And it reminds me of all the reasons I absolutely love Major League Baseball.

Begin Slideshow

Sooner or later, the revisionist sharks will begin circling one of their favorite pieces of bait, San Francisco Giant general manager Brian Sabean.

My guess is that they’ve already started and the first bite is only a matter of time.

For whatever reason, there’s always a strong chorus of anti-Sabean sentiment heard rumbling in the background of the Bay Area. Despite being the longest tenured GM in Major League Baseball and steering Los Gigantes through some of their most prosperous days since moving to the City, the bellyaching never fails to start at the first sign of trouble.

It doesn’t matter if San Francisco is enjoying a good season overall or if the club is beating industry-wide expectations, heaven forbid they should lose a couple games in a row or fall into an extended hitting slump (as all professional teams eventually do).

Worse yet, let one of Sabean’s acquisitions falter or a player he shipped away catch fire.

Then the cheap shots—conveniently aimed using hindsight—start flying with abandon.

Well, it’s time to get your abandon ready because Sabean’s latest maneuver is superficially backfiring.

On the surface, it looks as if the decision to jettison Fred Lewis to the Toronto Blue Jays for future considerations might become one of Sabes’ biggest blunders in recent memory.

His skeptics will tell you that’s quite an accomplishment in the wrong direction.

They’ll point to the raw data and leave out the inconvenient details. Instead of telling the whole story, the second-guessers will cite his .284 BA, .323 OBP, .457 SLG, .780 OPS, 19 R, 12 2B, and 13 RBI in 28 games with Canada’s lone Major League rep as definitive proof that the Giants need new leadership.

The only problem is that their line of reasoning is complete and utter trash. Other than that, though, they’ve got an argument.

Part of the problem is driven by the increasing obsession with fantasy sports and the numerical fascination it engenders. Some amateur Sabermetricians will tell you that OPS is the only thing that matters. If the ballplayer is getting on base and hitting for good power, the most significant bar for playing time has been cleared.

Consequently, the rallying cry for Fast Freddy was always “look at his OPS, look at his OPS.”

That’s fine and all in the fantasy world, but real-world baseball must consider other minor facets of the game like situational hitting, developing baserunning acumen if it’s not instinctual, and…what was that last one?

Oh yeah, defense.

Somewhere in there, the argument for keeping Lewis in a Gent uniform disintegrates into trace vapors.

One detail the anti-Sabeans will be sure to omit is that Fab Five Freddy has whiffed a staggering 35 times against five walks in 125 plate appearances. I can’t blame you if you don’t like fractions, so I’ll do the heavy lifting—that’s more than one K in every four trips to the dish.

Yikes.

No Big League manager can trust a guy who fails to make contact that often in a situational at-bat.

Of course, the situational stuff matters less when your lineup boasts a designated hitter and is near the top of the MLB leaderboards for most offensive categories. Both apply to Toronto while neither applies to the Orange and Black.

In other words, the 29-year-old left fielder fits the American League profile much better than he does the National League’s. He most certainly won’t work in an offense that relies on manufacturing runs as San Fran’s must.

There’s also the matter of Fast Freddy’s baserunning—you’ll notice he’s swiped three bases and been caught twice.

That shouldn’t happen, not with Lewis’ speed. He simply doesn’t run the bases well; he doesn’t get good jumps and he doesn’t read the ball of the bat. The otherwise glaring deficiency is masked by an impressive natural gift.

Again, this is a minor flaw in an otherwise dangerous asset.

Again, these minor flaws become debilitating in a mediocre-to-anemic batting order.

Nevertheless, the most crippling weakness demonstrated by Fred Lewis during his time with the Giants was his inability to bring his jaw-dropping athleticism to bear in the field. I can promise you the same people who will want Sabean’s head for exiling Lewis were making the same request in a blue streak whenever Freddy would author one of his patented butcher-jobs in left.

Ah, but the Toronto version of Lewis has been perfect to date with the leather.

Wonderful, maybe the Rogers Centre is an easier field to play and Freddy really isn’t that bad a gloveman. Even if this is the case, it doesn’t change the reality that he obviously couldn’t handle the more treacherous green of AT&T Park despite numerous chances.

Regardless, the real trump card applies whenever a player changes teams.

Often, it’s simply the novel scenery that revitalizes a career.

Either the dude is a square peg in a round franchise or merely can’t relax until the slate of past performance has been wiped clean by a move to a new location with a new fanbase.

Nobody likes to hear that because it’s, as yet, impossible to verify or explain with any degree of certainty.

Yet it’s been demonstrably true over the game’s history.

Fred Lewis is the phenomenon’s latest example.

And it’s not Brian Sabean’s fault.

**www.pva.org**

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

After the Oakland Raiders traded for the Washington Redskins’ Jason Campbell, the speculation in the swirling rumors of JaMarcus Russell’s imminent demise was replaced with inevitability.

The big man with the even bigger contract was due $9.45 million in the upcoming season and, by all accounts, nothing about the kid warranted rolling the dice when that kind of money was at stake.

And so the axe fell on May 6th, putting Russell firmly in the running for the title of Biggest Bust in the History of the National Football League.

That’s gotta sting.

The news has been fodder for numerous punchlines and snicker-inducing jabs around the country, but it’s not creating as many laughs in the Bay Area. The city across the Bay from the City is, shall we say, displeased.

So, to hopefully lighten the mood of some very disgruntled Oaktown residents and fans (or at least to give them an outlet for anger), I thought it’d be fun to bring the 510’s success story into the fray—the Oakland Athletics.

More than a few Major League Baseball players have been former college quarterbacks so what if the A’s starting pitchers traded rawhide for pigskin?

What current NFL signal-caller does each mound maestro most closely resemble?

Obviously, we’re not talking looks here—I’m a heterosexual man and everyone knows we don’t make aesthetic distinctions when it comes to our fellow fellas. This is strictly about a mix of on-air personality, body of work, age, and a healthy dose of gray area for the sake of convenience.

Or idiocy—you decide…

Begin Slideshow

The San Francisco Giants sure aren’t making it easy on a guy thus far in 2010.

With Ultimate Fighting Championship 113 erupting this weekend in Montreal, I’ve been meaning to take a look at what is sure to be an epic rematch between Lyoto “The Dragon” Machida and Mauricio “Shogun” Rua for the UFC Light Heavyweight Championship.

In addition, there’s a crackerjack bout between Paul “Semtex” Daley and Josh “Kos” Koscheck with the winner rumored to get a shot at UFC Welterweight Champion Georges “Rush” St. Pierre. GSP is arguably the best pound-for-pound mixed martial artist in the world.

Suffice it to say there’s sure to be quite a bit of seismic MMA coming out of the Bell Centre. That means there’s a ton to discuss and I really want to oblige.

The problem is that my beloved Giants keep winning. Not only that, they keep doing so in impressive fashion that demands comment.

We could use Tuesday’s gem from Tim Lincecum, subsequent arson by Sergio Romo, and resilient effort from the offense to finally secure the win as an example. It would make a good one, especially because it included a two-out, game-tying bomb from Aaron Rowand in the top of the ninth.

However, Wednesday’s twinkler from Barry Zito and a second straight defeat of the young Florida Marlins makes for a better offering.

At this point, Baked Zito’s brilliance is almost yawn worthy. Almost.

Although he’s been exceptional in the early going, the crafty southpaw’s turn in the Sunshine State pushed him over the hump in my mind. I’m no longer waiting for the wheels to fall off when this little run ends.

It will certainly end and Barry will get shelled like every other pitcher in Major League Baseball eventually does.

But no way he regresses back to the whisper of a Cy Young winner he was until the middle of 2009. The elder statesman of the rotation has strung together too many confidence-enhancing trips to the bump for the mirage to dissolve completely.

Any eventual hiccup will be simply that, a hiccup.

As proof, take a look at his Wednesday work.

Zito had all of his pitches working and turned the ferocious Fish into the flailing variety just as Lincecum had the previous night. Granted, he only registered a fraction of the Freak’s whiffs (four vs. 13), but he effectively removed the sting from the lumber and thusly only surrendered a fraction of the runs as well (one vs. three).

If not for a couple nickle-and-dimers in the eighth inning, he wouldn’t have suffered a blemish in the run department.

The confidence Zito’s been showing of late—in his demeanor, his pitch selection, and pitch execution—was on full display in Sun Life Stadium. It doesn’t come easily and, happily, it’s not lost easily either.

Barry obviously missed it for a few years, there, but he’s got it back. I bet he holds onto it for dear life now that he’s seen rock bottom and emerged from the valley.

Of course, the good news doesn’t stop there.

After the Baseball Gods put Zito’s goodies in the eighth inning ringer, the pseudo-goat from Tuesday entered a bases-loaded nightmare with nobody out and Hanley Ramirez gliding to the plate. The tying run jittered off second base and Romo had to record all three outs, beginning with arguably the Bigs’ hottest hitter.

I’m sure all the Giant “fans” who love to hate Bruce Bochy had their pitchforks out and were whetting the second-guessing tips as Romo took his warm-ups.

Sadly for that courageous group, Sergio broke off three wicked sliders and retired Hanley on three pitches. Three swings, actually, that weren’t even close. For good measure, the righty set-up ace used another three pitches to induce an inning-ending 6-4-3 double play.

Ahem, that’s the No. 3 and No. 4 hitters dispatched using a mere six-shooter despite the sacks drunk with Marlins and essentially no room for error.

Crisis averted, reliever redeemed, weapon in place, and we have Boch to thank for it.

Must’ve just been luck.

I guess I could spell out the finer points of Bochy’s managerial acumen, but why bother? Romo did an infinitely better job with emotion than I could ever do with words when asked by Duane Kuiper how he felt about his manager’s willingness to run him right back out into a zero-margin situation:

“Huge, HUGE, [chuckle], thank you, Bochy [another chuckle]…that’s all I could ask for, an opportunity to prove myself once again.”

Baseball is a game of faith above all else—if you believe you can perform as necessary, you will and vice versa.

Bruce Bochy knows this and he also knows a well-timed, external vote of confidence can inspire exponentially more of the internal kind.

If you don’t believe me, go ask Sergio Romo.

Or Hanley Ramirez…

**www.pva.org**

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

During his pregame session with the media, before the Oakland Athletics took on the Texas Rangers, manager Bob Geren revealed that Justin Duchscherer “had an MRI and it said there’s just some inflation” in his left hip.

So it goes in the mental and physical siege known as the Major League Baseball season.

You’ll forgive Geren if one conversation bleeds into another, even if it is only May and the 162-game slate is less than 20 percent complete. I mean, can you really blame his subconscious for transposing the American economic plight with that of his charges?

You’ll also have to forgive him if your initial reaction to his handling of the Show’s external forces is similar to mine. That is, this guy isn’t exactly warm and cuddly.

Baseball can be a grind in the best of times and the A’s are currently experiencing the gloomier of the Dickensian options.

With player after player coming up with bumps and bruises ranging from day-to-day hot spots all the way through certified tickets to the disabled list, the 2-6 mark in the club’s last eight games is really the least of Oakland’s worries.

Tuesday’s hard-fought victory over the first place Texas shows the A’s have enough firepower to stay the course.

For now.

However, if Duke, Kurt Suzuki, and Brett Anderson don’t hurry back from the shelf, the 2010 season could be in danger of flying out the window. After all, the old diamond adage is that pennants can’t be won in April and May, but they most certainly can be lost in the early going.

Often, that’s exactly where a team derails—classic September meltdowns notwithstanding.

So there is the onrushing precipice gnawing at Geren and his White Elephants, which can weigh on your mind and wear on your patience.

Consequently, it’s no surprise that warm-ups prior to Monday’s date with the Rangers had a noticeably more subdued feel than those I witnessed during my previous trip to the Oakland Coliseum (a game against the Cleveland Indians with the team sitting in first at 10-7).

Losing guys and games can have that effect.

Complicating matters is the standard tedium.

It’s nobody’s fault because the demand for information—any information—drives the sports journalism industry. Plus, there’s no real penalty for failing to pose a genuinely useful question.

Frankly, half the battle seems to be just getting the target talking.

Nevertheless, I’ve now been a part of several Ultimate Fighting Championship press conferences, a couple similar sessions hosted by MLB, and a few other Q & A’s with persons paid to compete.

From what I can tell, most of the questions asked of professional athletes are underwhelming to say the least. They often require the responder to provide the substance by asking yes/no questions in a setting where a simple yes/no reflects unflatteringly on the utterer.

For example, here are some of the queries faced by the A’s manager (including all of the good ones):

—Did he have a chance to talk to Duchscherer after his doctor visit?

—Will how Duke responds to treatment determine whether he goes on the DL?

—How is Suzuki coming along and what kind of exercises is he doing?

—Will his injury affect him as a backstop more than it would, say, an outfielder?

—When Gio Gonzalez is on, is he as good as anybody in the game?

—When a pitcher faces a team he’s been a part of, who has the advantage (the team was facing ex-Athletic Rich Harden)?

—Is the pitching depth nice to have with all the injuries?

—After all that traveling (to Tampa Bay and then Toronto), is it good to be home?

—Have you seen anyone giving Dallas Braden a hard time over the pitcher’s mound incident?

Again, I’m not trying to clown the reporters looking for the info; that’s their directive and the majority of the worthwhile probes will be dodged anyway. In other words, the options—go with the canned stuff or keep quiet until inspiration strikes, if it strikes—aren’t terribly attractive.

Still, it’s gotta be frustrating to have to craft interesting replies to uninteresting prompts. Especially when you have to do it day after day after day for five months.

Sooner or later, you’ll get a curt comeback and, voila, there’s the villain for the day.

Which is something to keep in mind when one of those scandalous remarks gets ripped out of context and slathered across the front page.

I’m not suggesting anyone have unblinking sympathy for these men (a few of which are still boys) or that they constantly deserve the benefit of the doubt.

The Major League minimum is now $400,000.

I’d wager that maybe one of my Stanford friends is making that sum and we’ve been out of school for almost a decade. Several of us have been to and graduated from one prestigious law/business school or another.

Meanwhile, a lot of these kids are new to the whole legally drinking thing and never stepped foot inside a classroom beyond high schoool.

Furthermore, they’re getting these absurd paychecks to roam the country and play baseball.

As Geren understated it, in response to the travel question, “the way the team travels is a pretty nice set-up.” Or as Johnny Damon said recently , “even our tough times are so much better than what other people have going on out there.”

Nope, the “woe is me” card is one perk in which the pros do NOT get to partake.

But it’s still important to remember that the Milton Bradleys of Major League Baseball are the exceptions, not the rule. Most of these men are perfectly decent, but they’re human.

Their mythical powers don’t exist unless they’ve got leather or lumber in hand.

And, sometimes, they prove it.

Oh well.

**www.pva.org**

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that the Baseball Gods lack a sense of humor; it’s simply not true. The collective funny bone is intact—the problem is that comedy doesn’t tickle it.

Instead, it’s cruelty that gives the diamond deities a case of the giggles.

Over the course of any team’s 162-game season, a fan will see ample proof of this perversity. At the moment, aficionados of the Oakland Athletics are getting their eyeful.

Just as the 2010 Athletic campaign was taking on a very rosy glint, the Oaktown nine hit a pothole and began throwing rods. Those of you familiar with my dastardly deeds probably won’t find it a coincidence that the going got rough almost immediately after yours truly sang the franchise’s praises (and again here ).

You name it and it’s been going wrong since the club left town for a six-game road trip through Tampa Bay and Toronto —the 1-5 record doesn’t even tell the short of it.

In fact, some of the oil started leaking before the green and gold even made it out of the Bay Area.

The injury bug took a big ol’ bite out of the team, felling several key pieces in Brett Anderson, Kurt Suzuki, and Justin Duchscherer (to name a few). For those unfamiliar with the Elephants, that’s the starting catcher and two of the top three starters.

Ouch.

Not surprisingly, the pitching began belching smoke and not the good kind.

Ben Sheets suffered a regression—performance-wise—in his two turns on a foreign bump as he comes back from elbow surgery. Dallas Braden got knocked around in his first start post-mound-crossing and Trevor Cahill got shelled making his 2010 debut in Anderson’s slot.

Luckily for Oakland , Gio Gonzalez bowed his neck on Saturday and managed to salvage the one game against the Blue Jays. The southpaw whiffed eight in 6 2/3 innings while conceding only two earned runs and five baserunners to Toronto.

On Tuesday, the Athletics will get an idea of exactly how bad the carnage’s gonna get.

Vin Mazzaro will be pressed into duty against the Texas Rangers because of inflammation in Duke’s left hip. Incidentally, that’s NOT his surgically repaired joint nor is it a ding to shoulder, back or psyche—the maladies that limited the Oakland righty in two of the last three years.

Not sure if that’s good or bad news regarding Duchscherer, but it certainly takes on an ominous blush if Mazzaro can’t deliver quickly on a substantial bit of his potential.

And that’s only the arms.

The hitting—never to be confused with the ’61 New York Yankees in the first place—has seen some of the bloom come off Daric Barton’s rose. His hot, multi-hit-per-game bat has cooled down considerably, causing his average to dip below .300.

Additionally, the loss of Suzuki’s been felt as much on offense as it has on defense.

Happily, the state of the lumber is not all gloom and doom.

On the contrary, second baseman Adam Rosales put together a nice run with 10 hits in 21 road at-bats. Ryan Sweeney’s in a nice groove, as is Kevin Kouzmanoff, and Cliff Pennington contributed a four-hit game in Tampa plus a three-hit contest in Toronto.

Furthermore, rookie catcher Josh Donaldson launched his first big fly in Canada and then put on a crazy hitting display in batting practice before Monday’s game against the Rangers. My man isn’t that big, but he was powdering the pill to all fields and displaying the explosive charge off the splinter that gets scouts excited.

Obviously, BP is not the real thing, but the kid stood out nonetheless.

In one final ray of sunshine, the American League West has been cooperating.

None of the residents has been able to grab control of the division. The Rangers, Anaheim Angels (sorry, Anaheim ain’t LA), and the Seattle Mariners are all caught in the one-step-forward-two-steps-back waltz. So, despite the recent struggles, the A’s still find themselves merely a loss off Texas’ first-place pace.

Nevertheless, the Baseball Gods must relent if the Oakland Athletics are to have a chance at realizing their dream season. Sooner or later, somebody in the Junior Circuit’s western group will rattle off a winning streak.

When that happens, the A’s better be ready.

The disabled list must be cleared of critical components and those struggling pieces must cross over to the sunnier side of the street. Otherwise, the fat lady might come and go before August.

Of course, it might also help if I’d stop jinxing them…

**www.pva.org**

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

Before the 2010 Major League Baseball season began, I really wanted to put the San Francisco Giants atop the division when previewing the National League West .

Instead, I stuck them in second and gave them the NL Wild Card because I figured the more grandiose vision was the product of the fan in me.

Furthermore, I thought granting them a postseason berth was still setting the bar pretty high. Possibly a little too high.

Well, a month into the season, I’m beginning to wonder whether I might’ve undersold the Gents. I bet I’m not alone.

With their win on Saturday over the Colorado Rockies, los Gigantes have ensured themselves at least a 6-3 jaunt through a nine-game gauntlet consisting of the St. Louis Cardinals, Philadelphia Phillies, and Rox.

If the fellas can win behind Jonathan Sanchez on Sunday, they’d register a sweep of the team many (including myself) picked to win the division, and would emerge from a trio of series against 2009 playoff teams with seven wins.

Now, it’s true the G-Men missed Chris Carpenter when the Redbirds came through and Phils were short Jimmy Rollins. Meanwhile, the Blake Street Bombers are down starters Jorge De La Rosa and Jason Hammel, along with closer Huston Street.

However, San Francisco isn’t exactly at full strength—Aaron Rowand should make his first appearance on Sunday, closer Brian Wilson is shelved with a mild groin strain as is Edgar Renteria, and Juan Uribe is playing through a hot elbow.

There’s also the matter of Freddy Sanchez, who’s still rehabbing from offseason surgeries, and Buster Posey, who is caught in the Super 2 chains of baseball economics.

So the Giants might not have faced the most formidable clubs in the Senior Circuit at full strength, but they didn’t have all hands on deck either.

Furthermore, they touched up two elite right-handed aces in Adam Wainwright and Roy Halladay while battering a very good lefty in Cole Hamels well enough to win (I’ll leave it at that).

In the finale against Colorado, San Francisco gets yet another tough assignment in Ubaldo Jimenez, but no tougher than what they’ve already seen.

Regardless of the outcome, the Orange and Black will depart for Florida having completed a highly successful home stand against the best the NL has to offer. That’s reason enough to get at least a bit starry-eyed.

Granted, the 2010 season is all of 23 games old for the Giants—that’s not exactly a conclusive sampling, but it is a meaningful chunk.

It’s not crazy to think the general form might hold for the remainder of the slate.

You can etch it in stone that the San Francisco offense won’t hit a collective .280, which is good for third in all of the Show . C’mon, that’s higher than the Tampa Bay Rays, New York Yankees, and Philadelphia Phillies—no way it holds up.

Nor will the .768 team OPS, good for fourth in the National League.

A more accurate barometer of the splinters’ prowess is probably the combo of runs scored and batted in—the Gents check in at 12th and tied for 12th in those categories, respectively.

Nevertheless, there are signs that indicate the offense might be better than most observers thought, which would put it somewhere in the mediocre range.

Pablo Sandoval is the real deal so his performance should stay right around its current brilliance—.352 BA, .965 OPS, 12 R, 10 RBI, 3 HR, and 2 SB. Bengie Molina won’t rake all year at his current .343 clip, but the OPS of .871 is sustainable for Big Money.

Likewise, Renteria, Rowand, Uribe, and Aubrey Huff will certainly cool off as the weather gets warmer, but they’ll stay productive so long as they don’t go into the tank and that unpleasant specter would require a precipitous decline from their April output.

The x-factor in the batting order is Nate Schierholtz.

Obviously, nobody is fool enough to believe a 26-year-old getting his first extended taste of regular playing time will hit .373 over 162 games. Additionally the 1.01 OPS will fall.

Yet the kid has every one of his five tools plated in gold —he can fly, the ball jumps off his bat (though AT&T Park will keep his big fly totals down), you see the average, his defense is nice in a difficult right field, and just ask Ryan Howard or Chase Utley about the cannon hanging from his right shoulder.

The relevant question, then, is how far will those gaudy stats drop?

And a reasonable answer is, not that far.

If Nate the Great can keep himself in Big Money/Little Money territory, that would give San Francisco a third genuinely dangerous weapon holding maple or ash.

Given the April just turned in by the pitching staff, a trio of thumpers to go with a host of complementary pieces would be more than sufficient to turn this preseason playoff hopeful into a legitimate World Series contender.

That sounds utterly insane given the comparably weak lumber, but few teams can match the potential suffocation of Tim Lincecum, Matt Cain, Jonathan Sanchez, and Barry Zito. Especially if the aces can finish as blindingly as they started.

Again, the first week of May is still much too soon to draw any firm conclusions about a season that endures until October. But it’s not too early to start dreaming.

And the San Francisco Giants have just given us the beginnings of a very sweet one.

**www.pva.org**

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

Every now and again, certain fans like to remind the sports’ landscape that the word is short for “fanatics,” which comes to us from the Latin “fanaticus .” The latter means “insanely but divinely inspired.”

Yep, that about covers it.

Although I’m not sure Chicago Cub aficionados would agree with the “divine” bit.

Regardless, the San Francisco Giants and their faithful find ourselves caught in one of those moments right now.

By that, I’m referring to the ridiculous outpouring of criticism from the fanbase in the wake of manager Bruce Bochy’s decision to hook Tim Lincecum in the ninth inning of the club’s finale with the Philadelphia Phillies.

If you haven’t heard, the Freak was working on a gem, but had just issued his first walk of the game with a three-run lead and one out. Rather than let the ace finish the game with the heart of the Philly lineup coming to the plate, Boch went to All-Star closer Brian Wilson and the situation unraveled due to a heavy dose of bad luck.

Before tackling the devilish details of the manager’s decision, let’s handle the Franchise.

Some will tell you Lincecum was on his A-game as he mowed down 11 Phightin’ Phils and basically demoralized the National League’s best nine.

I’m not so sure that’s true—the two-time Cy Young certainly was on his game, but I wouldn’t say it was Tim Lincecum at his best. That monster doesn’t give up an opposite field bomb to Ryan Howard nor does it surrender loud contact to Chase Utley twice.

Granted, that’s more a testament to his exceptional ability rather than an indictment of his stuff on Wednesday. As phenomenal as those lefties are, Lincecum’s A game doesn’t allow for solid contact to anyone .

Of course, if it wasn’t the Freak at his freakiest, it was very, very close.

You watch a guy like the dominant yet diminutive right-hander and you can tell he’s special in any number of ways.

My favorite is to watch how batters change their approach—there are basically no hitters’ counts because they know the once-in-a-blue-mooners never have to concede.

Usually, in 1-0, 2-0, 2-1, and 3-1 counts, a thumper can sit on a particular pitch (fastball) in the strike zone on a particular side of the plate. Consequently, you’ll typically see LOUD contact on those swings.

With a fireballer like Lincecum, though, hitters can’t (or don’t) do that because they’ve got to be ready for anything that’s hittable. Given how filthy his arsenal is and how much command he has of it, the opposition can’t afford to let a strike go by simply because it’s not ideal.

They’ve got to take advantage of whatever minuscule leverage they’re fortunate to get.

I wouldn’t say the result is a defensive swing, but it certainly isn’t the authoritative hack you’ll see against 99 percent of the hurlers caught in that trap.

When an executioner like the Freak has a splinter at his mercy?

It can get ugly no matter the caliber of adversary.

Against Philly, I swear I saw both of Shane Victorino’s feet leave the ground in mid-swing when he whiffed to lead off the fourth inning. Placido Polanco might’ve gotten the first hit, but it was no thing of beauty and he looked grossly overwhelmed up to that point.

For good measure, Lincecum cut through Ryan Howard, Jayson Werth, and Raul Ibanez the first time around using 14 pitches to record three swinging strikeouts.

Only the aforementioned Utley and Howard looked good against him, but those are two future Hall-of-Famers and each struck out against Timmy to go with their impressive trips to the plate.

So why, you ask, do I think the second-guessing of Bruce Bochy’s decision to life Lincecum in favor of Wilson is absurd?

After all, I just spent hundreds of words detailing how resplendent the Franchise is in general and on this particular occasion.

The answer is actually obvious if you give an objective retelling of the doomed half-inning.

There is no doubt that Tim Lincecum had been great up until the ninth and even the improved version is still prone to a momentary bout of wildness so the walk to the Flyin’ Hawaiian wasn’t, by definition, sinister.

Nor is there much doubt that the kid still had some fuel in his tank after 106 pitches notwithstanding the 120 he’d thrown in his last outing.

He said he felt good and, while most warriors will tell you they can go despite a missing limb, I believe the Washington native has that streak of oddity that would own up to being gassed if that’s how he felt.

However, the fact remains that the out he recorded was on a hanger. The only thing turning that baby into an out was the identity of the man holding the bat (Greg Dobbs). The fact remains that all of the four wayward pitches to Shane Victorino were up, which is not where you want to miss and not where you do miss if everything is right.

Quite frankly, Victorino probably rakes one of ’em if he’s not taking until he sees a strike (the modus operandi in the face of a three-run deficit).

So Bruce Bochy and Dave Righetti—c’mon, you don’t think he was in agreement?—had just watched a pitcher who’d been on fire for 24 outs look markedly different with Polanco, Utley, Howard, and Werth coming up.

Yikes.

Furthermore, the closer was warmed up, fresh, hadn’t yet allowed a run in 7 1/3 IP, and had only suffered six baserunners (three hits and three walks) while whiffing nine.

Lastly, there is the undeniable yet unpleasant observation that having Brian Wilson blow that game was much, MUCH less debilitating than if the Franchise had thrown kerosene on it.

As brutal as the eventual defeat was and as resolutely as Lincecum would’ve taken any eventual failure, such a scenario would’ve turned another example of his unparalleled magnificence into—at best—just another outing.

At worst, it would’ve torn away a layer of his invincibility.

Everyone—players, fans, coaches, owners, and analysts—are used to seeing the door-slammers go up in glorious flames. It happens to even the best of the best.

But to see the Freak’s mortality proven in Technicolor?

No thanks.

As the manager said, “we need the kid…”

People assume he was talking about Tim Lincecum’s physical health, but I’d say the necessity is deeper and more dispersed.

And I bet Bruce Bochy would, too.

**www.pva.org**

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com