I have to think that Matt Cain pitching well and the Giants struggling to score is actually a good thing. I mean, this is the Matt Cain we know and love. Mr. Hard Luck, Mr. No-Decision, Mr. Undeserved Loss--that's our boy. Life is ordered, the universe is in balance, the yin's yanged, and the yang's yinned when no. 18 gets minimal run support. Hey, I'm reaching here, OK? The Giants are fighting tooth-and-nail with the equally feeble Chicago Cubs to stay out of the cellar. And they are now TEN GAMES below the .500 mark. I don't know what to say about that, it's a little too disturbing to contemplate, so I'll do what any red-blooded, self-respecting American would do and simply ignore it. Jeff Francouer delivered a two-run single in the 7th (after Matty's 115-pitch night was done) to overcome the 1-0 deficit and give Cainer and the ballclub a shot at the win. Unfortunately the 'pen could not get the job done, and just when it looked like Sergio Romo would get the last out, Brandon Belt couldn't come up with the hard smash from Rizzo and the Giants were doomed.
Vida Blue said on the pre-game show that Cain needed to mix it up on two-strike counts, that he was too predictable and thus giving up big hits when he should be getting outs. It's worth noting that the Chicago sequence that scored the run in the 6th (Nate Schierholtz double and Starlin Castro single) were both two-strike hits. None of this means a goddamn thing. I've been watching baseball all of my life and still don't understand pitching. Or hitting. Or fielding. Especially tonight's fielding. I mean lack of fielding. Tony Abreu should have stopped the ball that led to the Cubs first run, and Belt was in the right spot for the very type of ball that Rizzo hit, yet could not knock it down and end the game.
Matt Cain pitched well: 7 6 1 1 1 7, Game Score 67. That's something. My mom offered me a shot of bourbon in that horrid 9th, and when I said "no, thanks" she countered with a Jameson. You're all right, Ma, you understand. It was a great visit today, other than the game. Dwight Yoakam has a song, It Won't Hurt, where he sings in that plaintive drawl "but even whiskey cannot ease your hurting me." That was tonight. No sense wasting good whiskey.