Monday, June 27, 2005

 

Stewing In Our Own Juices

Of all the stupid times to have a day off. This is easily the worst day off in San Francisco Giants history.

You know that there are 25 players, a manager, several coaches, a general manager, various assistants, and at least a dozen bloggers who are thinking of nothing but yesterday's massacre. On the plane ride to Arizona, they were thinking about it. On the bus to the hotel, they were thinking about it. In a darkened hotel room at 3:35 a.m., they were laying awake thinking about it. (Except for Tomko, who might very well have been passed out from a drinking binge--I mean, that's what I would have done.)

The only way to forget about this one is to get back on the ballfield and beat somebody. Anybody. Right now, you can bet the Giants' team bus is roaming around suburban Phoenix. Everyone is in full uniform, gear ready. They're just looking for someone to play. Little League team, high school team, it doesn't matter. They need a tonic to wash the bad taste out, and they need it now.

Unfortunately, they'll have to wait another 30 hours or so for a real game. It'll be the longest 30 hours of their lives, don't you think?

Jefferson 2:00 PM

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