Bengie and Jayda:
Christmas in Cabo San Lucas:
Jose, Jayda, Bengie:
But it's sad, too.
It's the last time this particular group of players will be together on this field. It's the same at the end of every season. Some guys will retire or move on to other teams. I don't know what's going to happen to me. I don't know if I should be saying good-bye to the home fans. I want to come back to the Giants. Jamie and I love San Francisco. It's such a beautiful place with beautiful fans. But it's out of my control. I have to wait and see.
I know some people are rooting for Buster Posey to take over for me. I know this because I hear the chants in the stands sometimes when I come up to bat. They paid their money and they can do what they want. But sometimes I think, "Really? This is what you give me after three years here?'' The truth is I love Buster Posey. He's a humble kid who's going to be a superstar. He came up to me after the game he started and was talking about how his hitting was so off.
"Hey, kiddo,'' I said to him, "it's not all about hitting. It's about how those pitchers are throwing the ball and how you're helping them.''
I'm happy to help a kid who might take my job. I want him to have a great career. That's part of what I love about playing baseball - the relationships in the clubhouse, how the veterans can give advice to the young guys, how we help and support each other. That's always been so important to me. I take my role as a mentor very seriously.
If I don't come back to the Giants, I know I can walk out of the clubhouse with my chin up. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I've done more than they asked me to do. The numbers show what I've done. (I appreciated the piece John Shea wrote in the Chronicle the other day. www.sfgate.com/columnists/shea/)
One of those numbers is 20.
In the back of my head, I've always wanted to get to 20 home runs, but it was an actual goal. But that night last year, when I sat next to my dad during his wake, I promised him I'd get 20 home runs this season.
"I'm promising you something I'm not sure I can do,'' I told him that night.
I promised this because my father was always telling me, "You're capable of 20.''
One day not long before he died, I had said to him, "I try, but I guess it's not meant to be for me.''
He put his arm around me. "It'll happen. You're a good hitter.''
So when I got to 18 home runs this season then hit one early in the game on Wednesday to make it 19, I was thinking, "OK, this could happen.''
Then I got up and hit the ball off the end of the bat. I didn't think it was going out but when I reach first, I saw the ball got into the stands. I started getting very emotional as I was rounding the bases. I also felt a relief in my whole body.
"Wow, it's 20,'' I thought.
When I stepped on home plate, I looked up at my father.
"Hey, I did it,'' I said to him. "You were right. I did it.''
When I was talking to Amy Gutierrez on CSN after the game, I started to tear up, but I didn't want to cry on television. But when I came into the clubhouse, I lost it. I stood at my locker, looking at the framed collage of my father. I stood there by myself, leaning into my locker. I didn't want anybody to see me.
I took a town car home to Lafayette that night. I knew it was after 2 a.m. in Puerto Rico. I knew my mother would be asleep and I didn't want to wake. But then I thought, to hell with it, and I called her.
"Hey, mijo, what happened?'' she said. "Are you OK?''
"Mom, I did it,'' I said.
"What?''
"I got to 20.''
"What? You got another one?'' She had seen the first home run then went to sleep.
"I promised dad I was going to do it.''
She stared crying, and I started crying.
"He's very happy for you right now,'' she said.
When I got home, Jamie was waiting for me, and she was crying, too. I hugged my father's picture. It was a very emotional night.
I wish we could have made the playoffs, of course, but we've had a very good season. It has been a privilege to play with these guys and with these coaches. At the end of the game today, when Randy Johnson got the last out, I walked toward the mound and shook his hand. "It's been a pleasure just to catch you,'' I said. Before I leave and he leaves, I wanted him to know what an honor it has been to work with him.
I'm not looking forward to saying good-bye to everyone on Sunday. I'm excited to drive back to Yuma with Jamie and Jayda and plop down on my own couch and watch football. But we get really close as team. We spend more time with each other than we do with our families during the season. This is a tough thing to do every season.
Thank you for all your good wish and support this year and the previous two seasons. I hope I'll see you again next April.
]]>You should see what it's like right now in this clubhouse. There is unbelievable energy. Everyone's up. We have all the young guys who were called up. We have Randy Johnson back. And we took two games from the Rockies and are ready, believe me, for the third. And then the Dodgers.
Here's an example of the mood this team is in - at least this is how it was a few hours before Wednesday's game.
While we were stretching before BP, and Bochy was walking out of the dugout after his daily meeting with the reporters, the music that's always blaring through the loudspeakers suddenly went silent. We knew what was coming, but Bochy didn't. Up on the big screen in center field. There was a video montage of Bochy's career, at least as it was through his time at the Padres. It showed him as a player then as a young manager. The showing was arranged by a player who shall remain nameless.
"Somebody turn that off,'' Bochy said, turning his back to the screen. "Who did this?''
All of us, of course, watched every moment then clapped when it was over.
I guess you could say we were pretty loose.
Every race to the postseason has its own rhythm. You can't really compare my time with the Angels to the Giants now. You have different players, different personalities. We have been so up and down. I'm sure there are people who wrote us off last week and jumped back on the bandwagon after beating the Rockies in the first two games of this series. We knew we had games left - crucial games left - that could turn this around.
More tomorrow.
]]>Juan Uribe is one of those guys who seems to carry a current of electricity inside him. He makes things happen whether he's in the clubhouse or on the field. Before games, he's at the center of the fierce Domino games at the table near my locker. He, Renteria, Brian Wilson and a few others are there slamming the tiles down and hooting at each other. On the field, well, you've seen what he can do. Two home runs and a triple yesterday. He always finds a way to get us going and keep us fired up.
Then there's Pablo, who continues to amaze all of us. That play yesterday at first? He was like Superman flying to right to stop that ball. He might not look like your typical star athlete, but he's such a natural. He has all the tools. He's fast. He's strong. Look at his forearms. They're huge. He's incredibly agile - you have to be agile to play third base, first base and catcher. Plus he can hit. He's the whole package.
And having Freddie Sanchez back in the lineup really makes a difference. He's a proven Number 2 hitter. He can go the other way. He's not afraid of a sacrifice bunt. He knows how to move the runners over. He makes the whole line-up stronger.
It's always a shot in the arm when we get the September call-ups and the young guys join the team for the last month of the season. Much was made last week about the Giants management "trying to light my fire'' by adding Buster Posey to the roster. When reporters asked if I thought the Giants were "sending me a message,'' I answered honestly. I didn't think that's what was happening. But I said IF the Giants were trying to send me a message to heal faster from my muscle strain, it's kind of an odd thing to do. I have never given less than 100 percent, and the Giants know that, so what would be the point of "sending a message''? I think it was reporters looking for an angle.
So before the game the other day, I was standing near Posey in front of some reporters and joked, "Hey, you better not light that fire too much. I don't want you to burn my ***!'' Buster kind of looked at me funny. I guess he hadn't read the paper. Later I explained it to him. He laughed. That kid is amazing. He's so humble. Such a nice guy. I think he's going to be a superstar.
I saw him sitting one day by himself in the dugout, so I called him over, (I wasn't playing, either.) We started talking about catching and strategy and how to last a long time in the big leagues. If he's going to take my job someday, I want him to be the best. I want him to take care of these pitchers. I want him to help these guys and be a winner. I'd love to stay here and work with Posey when the time comes. I don't want to go anywhere else. But it's the Giants' decision to make. It's out of my control.
The truth is I don't spend much time thinking about what's going to happen next season. I'm thinking about right now, today. Who are we facing? How do we pitch them? How to win this game and then the next game? Nothing's better than playing games that matter in September.
Thanks for reading. See you at the park!
]]>What a great game yesterday. Brad Penny was awesome. With a 6-0 lead, you start calling the game a little different. I try to call as many fastballs as I can to save his arm and try to get him into the 8th inning instead of six or seven.
Penny's got that fire you love to see in a pitcher. When he got angry at Gonzales for admiring his home run a bit too long, I went out to the mound along with a couple other guys and Bochy. Penny immediately calmed down. "My bad, my bad,'' he said. He wasn't rattled. It's just part of the game to get emotional and angry sometimes. A gesture that seems disrespectful to one guy might be perfectly acceptable to another.
Like the Brewers with Prince Fielder's walk-off home run on Sunday. I didn't like. I don't think many players would be happy about it. On the other hand, Fielder hit the home run to win the game. They won and we didn't.
To me, the whole thing comes down to one simple word: Respect. You respect the game and play it the way it's supposed to be played. You don't show up the pitcher by showboating when you hit a home run. Same way with a pitcher who gets a big strikeout. You don't go pumping your fist and talking to the batter.
But this time of year emotions might be a little closer to the surface than they were in April or May. Everybody's banged up from playing for five months (plus six weeks of spring training). You wear down. You're tired. I've got bumps and bruises on every inch my body. Got another one yesterday when a ball jammed my finger. If it were a close game, I wouldn't have come out. I've played in worse pain. But we had a comfortable lead, so I left the game and got treatment. It's fine now.
This time of year, you cut back on your training. Instead of doing 20 minutes on the bike, you might do 10. Instead of doing three sets of weight training, you do two or even one. You're trying to conserve your energy, especially with quick turnarounds like coming off this road trip. We flew in from Milwaukee Sunday night then played a day game here on Monday. My body just didn't want to wake up. But as soon as I pass through the clubhouse doors - and even more so when I take the field - I'm fine again. I'm excited and ready to go.
How can you not be excited and ready to go with this team?
More on that tomorrow.
]]> I don't listen to the talk shows so I personally haven't heard the comments about our tough loss to the Rockies Monday. But I'm told people were dumping on everyone from the players to the manager. Some apparently were saying our season was over.
Granted, it was a heart breaker. When the home-run ball was sailing over the wall, I just sat in the dugout with my head in my hands. Just minutes earlier, when Eugenio hit the triple, I was thinking, "This is our game.'' Then suddenly it was over. We lost. I couldn't believe it. I was thinking, "Is this really happening?''
But I have to tell you, nobody was thinking, "Oh, this guy lost the game for us, or that guy didn't do his job.'' Merkin Valdez was put in a very, very tough position. When he came in, the damage had been done. The bases were loaded. He went right after the hitter. That's what he had to do. Go with his best stuff. Go after him and hope for a double play. It was a good pitch. I don't think he could have done anything different.
The thing about that game - which maybe some fans lost sight of -- is that every single guy battled his butt off. Every guy left everything he had on that field. Nobody gave up. They showed so much fight.
In the clubhouse afterward, on the bus to the airport and on the plane ride home, there wasn't a sound from anybody. We felt crushed and exhausted. When we walked down the steps of the plane onto the tarmac in San Francisco - at around 3 a.m. -- Bochy was standing there at the bottom, greeting every guy, telling us we battled our butts off and that there was no batting practice tomorrow and to get some rest.
I'm not sure how Bochy comes across through the media, but I've played for a lot of different managers, and I feel so lucky to have a manager of the caliber and strength of Bruce Bochy. People don't understand what a great job he's done with this team. Maybe you can't really appreciate how good he is unless you're on the inside watching what he does. He's been awesome. That game on Sunday against Colorado, Bochy and our bench coach, Ron Wotus, did an amazing job. They're always on the same page, figuring everything out, what moves to make, which arms are fresh. They have to consider so many different things. I really admire how they go about their business.
Same with the pitching coaches, Righetti and Gardner. They're the ones who scout the hitters and talk to Eli and me. They do a superb job. They get you ready for every game. I have never been so prepared for games on any other team I've played on. These two guys are unbelievable.
When I arrived at the park yesterday afternoon, I was wondering how much the loss to the Rockies was going to affect the team. It was such a long, tough road trip. We got in late. Most of us didn't go to sleep until about 6 in the morning. Then we came back here a few hours later.
When I walked into the clubhouse, everyone was great. They were joking like they always do. There was a lot of energy. That told me a lot. How you bounce back from such a heart-breaking loss reveals what you're all about. Some teams might have been dragging. But these guys had a great attitude. They're always ready to go.
And in another tough game last night, we battled and won. We don't play many easy games, that's for sure. It makes it exciting, I guess. But I think I'm ready for a few easy ones . . .
See you at the park.
If anyone at the park today was watching their first Giants-Dodgers game, they learned everything they need to know about this rivalry. This was an unbelievable game - like an entire season of highs and lows in one afternoon.
We had the benches clear in the fifth inning when the Dodgers pitcher hit Pablo. I was on deck, and Pablo was definitely hit on the arm. I thought at first they were arguing that Pablo had swung through, which meant even if he was hit, it's a strike and he doesn't go to first. But they said the ball hit the bat first then his arm, which wasn't the case.
Pablo thought McDonald was intentionally trying to hit him, which is a judgment call on his part. Maybe he and McDonald have a history in the minor leagues or something. I don't know. But you always back up your teammate, no matter what. I grabbed Russell Martin, the catcher, who wasn't happy that Pablo was accusing his pitcher of intentionally hitting him. I was telling him to take it easy. Basically, your job as a teammate when the benches clear is to keep your teammates safe. You try to grab whoever you can to keep them from getting hurt or getting tossed.
Obviously, we don't like the Dodgers, and they don't like us. The only thing you hope is that nobody gets hurt. And nobody did.
Timmy pitched such a great game it's a shame he didn't get the win. Late in the game, I was just telling him to keep making his pitches. Don't try to throw harder or slower. Just make his pitches the way he always does. It was a killer not to get the call at first. We get that call, and maybe the game is over in nine.
We had more than little bad luck as far as the calls during this series. I hated to see Bochy thrown out of the game, but I understand it. It's frustrating when it seems like all the calls are going against you. It's hard for everybody when the manager's tossed. You want him making the decisions. We have great coaches, though. After Wotus got thrown out, Flannery took over. I was wondering who was going to manage if Flannery got tossed. Maybe Murph. He's certainly seen more baseball in his 50-something years with the team than all of us put together.
But I'm not going to be too harsh on the umps. They're human. They have bad days like the rest of us.
The best part of the game, of course, was watching Juan Uribe's monster home run sail over Ramirez's head. Ramirez didn't even watch it. He just started walking off the field.
It's hard to describe the feeling of rushing onto the field when a teammate hits a walk-off home run - much less in a game like this. Against the Dodgers. Ten innings. And it was especially exciting because it was Juan. He had a tough day. Left runners on base. Dropped the pop-up. I haven't talked to him but I'm guessing the sun was in his eyes.
And then he clobbers the ball.
That's the great part of this game. With one pitch, one swing, you change your whole day. Maybe you change a whole season.
This is a huge win. That goes without saying. It's especially big not only because it's against the Dodgers and the first-place team, but because we're heading out to New York and the start of a long road trip. This win - and HOW we won - gives us so much positive energy going onto the road.
I'm heading home for a few hours before I have to catch a plane tonight. We have a day off tomorrow in New York. I'll be resting.
I'll try to update the blog sometime during the road trip.
Thanks for reading and for supporting us. This is an amazing team. I love coming to the ballpark every day because I get to watch these great guys play.
]]>I know, I know, it's been way too long. Those of you who are parents know, with a new baby, it's not easy finding a minute to do anything but change diapers, give baths, pat burps from her tiny body and just look at her. Jamie and I are so happy to have little Jayda in our lives.
She was born Saturday, July 11, at 1:15 in the afternoon. Jamie went into labor on Friday afternoon. I called Dave Groeschner, the Giant's head athletic trainer, to ask him to tell Boch I had to miss the game. (I had a new phone and didn't have Boch's cell phone number.) After we got Jamie settled in the hospital, we turned on the game. It was in the second inning with Jonathan Sanchez pitching and Eli Whiteside catching. All I was thinking about - at least as far as anything beyond Jamie and the delivery - was pulling for the guys to win. Then along about the seventh inning, I started to think, "Hey, he might throw a no-hitter.''
With every out, Jamie, her mother and I got more and more excited. At the final out, we were all yelling and cheering. It's just such a rare thing, an unbelievable thing, to pitch a no-hitter. The only time I've ever seen one in person was on September 11, 1999, when I was with the Angels and Eric Milton of the Twins no-hit us. It was an 11 a.m. game in the Metrodome because the University of Minnesota had a football game there that night. The Angels manager at the time, Joe Maddon, sat most of the starters, so I wasn't even in the line-up.
But I can honestly say, while I watched Jonathan Sanchez and Eli Whiteside, I never thought, "Oh, I wish I was catching.'' I would want to be there to celebrate the occasion, of course, but I'm not one for coulda, woulda, shoulda. That was Eli's game. I strongly believe that what is for you is for you. What is not for you is not for you. Maybe if I were there, Jonathan wouldn't have pitched a no-hitter. It was meant to be that Jonathan and Eli had the no-hitter and not me.
Again, because I didn't have everybody's number in my new phone, I couldn't call Jonathan. So I sent a text to Groesch and he showed it to Jonathan. Then I congratulated him and Eli in person on the following Sunday when I returned to the team.
I spent Friday and Saturday nights at the hospital with Jamie and the baby. As you can imagine, the birth was amazing, very emotional, very loving. Jayda was perfectly healthy with a thick mop of black hair. She's beautiful - takes after Jamie. My brother Jose, who plays for the Yankees, flew in on Sunday night and spent the All-Star break with us and helped us welcome Jayda into our family.
I know for the last couple months, my numbers at the plate have not been great. Everybody thinks I'm struggling and I must be getting down on myself. But that's not the case. I've been swinging the bat well and hitting the ball well. But they just haven't been falling. Even Boch told me he's never seen anything like it in his career, such a string. Now, the last few games, the balls are dropping again. But I feel the same at the plate as I have all season. Now the balls are just finding the holes. People can call it a slump if they want to. But I didn't feel that way at all.
Dodgers come into town tomorrow. We can't wait. This is the time to make up some ground in the division. We're ready.
Thanks for all your kind words and good wishes for Jamie, Jayda and me.
]]>Yesterday was one of those days when everything falls into place, when baseball seems like the easiest game in the world.
We scored 10 runs against St. Louis -- Ishikawa and Renteria both went three for four with three RBIs a piece.
Timmy pitched what might be the best game of his already amazing career, a two-hit complete game - his third complete game in his last four starts.
And we were in St. Louis, so I got to spend time with my brother, Yadier, and my mother and aunt, who were visiting from Puerto Rico.
What more could I ask for?
One thing, actually.
I could ask to have a big game at the plate after a disappointing month of June.
And, sure enough, I got that, too.
I went three for five with an RBI and a run. To be honest, I hit the ball well all five times. I felt great up at the plate. It felt good to see the ball flying past fielders instead of right at them. Hitting is mostly skill, of course, but there's a little luck, too. Sometimes you can be swinging the bat and seeing the pitches as well as you ever have, and every ball you hit finds a glove. And sometimes the balls fall exactly where you want them to.
Despite the slump, it's satisfying to still have the most RBIs of any catcher in the National League and to lead the major leagues in game-winning RBIs.
The best part of yesterday's game, though, was partnering with Timmy. I take a lot of pride in calling his games and strategizing with him through every inning, every batter, every pitch. I don't need to tell you that this kid is really special. He's one of a kind. I have never seen a pitcher exactly like him. He trusts his pitches. He trusts what he's going to throw. When I call for a fastball, he just unleashes it. The real good pitchers, they execute their pitches.
Sounds simple, right? But there's a confidence and trust a pitcher has to have in himself, his catcher and his skills. Timmy has four pitches he can throw for strikes. Four good ones - meaning he not only throws them for strikes, he throws them hard.
And this kid doesn't rattle. He's really relaxed before his starts, but he's a very fierce guy when it comes to pitching his game. He has the perfect personality for a pitcher.
Even between innings, when most pitchers sit off by themselves on the bench, Timmy will ask me about the location of a certain pitch, things like that. This kid is the whole package.
I didn't catch Ryan Sadowski, but I had fun watching him. He really, really impressed me, the way he controlled the game, the way he threw strikes, moved the ball around. He threw breaking balls, sliders when he had to. He looked like a veteran out there.
He spent more than six years in the minor leagues, and he learned how to pitch. Some guys have all the raw skills in the world but they get to the majors too quickly without first learning HOW to pitch. Believe, I understand why everyone wants to get out of minors as fast as they can. It's no fun being the minors. It's a tough lifestyle. But there are a lot of advantages to paying your dues in the minors.
That's where you do all your learning. The major leagues aren't instructional leagues. It's not the place to be working on your skills. You get here and you have to execute right away. That's what Sadowski did. He did his job and now he's getting another chance.
Here's another advantage. When you spend that much time in the minors, once you get to the majors, you really, really appreciate where you are. You appreciate the game of baseball and how blessed you are to play it for a living. I was in the minors for more than seven years, so I speak from experience.
Jamie is getting closer to having the baby, so I gave Bochy the heads-up that if I get the call that she's in labor, I'll have to go. I'll keep you posted, of course.
]]>First, thanks for the wonderful comments so many of you left on my last post. I try always to have a positive outlook on life even when I'm struggling at the plate. How can I not have a positive outlook? I am so blessed to be playing this game.
But sometimes, when the balls aren't falling and you don't come through when your teammates need you, it's difficult not to get frustrated and disappointed. So your comments truly lifted my spirits. I carry your thoughts with me every day onto the field. I play so hard because I know I'm playing not just for myself. I'm playing for my teammates and the Giants organization, of course, but it's so important to me to play hard for the people who come out to our games and watch us on TV or listen on the radio and send us all their great energy. I can't thank you enough for always being in my corner.
Second, sorry I haven't written much lately. I'm trying to do better.
Going back to Randy Johnson's 300th, it was awesome to be part of that. As you know, it wasn't the greatest setting: wet and dreary and only a few thousand fans on hand in Washington, D.C. But Randy was unbelievable: He allowed just one unearned run in six innings, and even at the age of 45, he dove at a comebacker and barehanded it to throw the guy out.
My adrenaline about the historic milestone didn't kick in until the eighth. We were ahead 2-1 and Brian Wilson was facing Adam Dunn with two outs and the bases loaded. Wilson had a 3-2 count on Dunn. That's when you start thinking about the 300th game. How could we possibly walk in the run that ruined Johnson's victory. Wilson threw a fastball that crossed the plate at Dunn's knees. The umpire didn't call anything, and I held the ball a little longer, showing that the ball was in the strike zone. The ump called a strike and we were out of the inning. I'm sure it's lot of weight off Randy's shoulders to have the 300th win under his belt.
It's been fun to watch this team develop its personality. If you walked into our clubhouse, you'd always hear someone laughing - most likely Juan Uribe or Pablo Sandoval. Those two guys always find a way to have fun. They're always making comments to make the rest of us laugh, even in the middle of a game. When Pablo hit a double recently and I ran from first to third, he yelled from second base about me needing some oxygen and covered his face as if he were holding an oxygen mask. When Juan hit his first home run of the season a few weeks ago in Arizona, it was Pablo's idea to give Juan the silent treatment when he came back into the dugout. Everybody just sat in the dugout, ignoring Juan. He didn't know what to do. He kept saying, "I don't care, I don't care.'' Then we all got up and laughed and congratulated him.
That's what makes a team come together. You can laugh and tease each other like a family because the truth is for eight months we're around each other more than we're around our families. We have a good balance of veteran guys, young guys, quiet guys, loud guys. Everyone, the Latin players and the American players, all get along and don't break off into little groups like on some teams.
That's one of those little things that keep a team together during rough times. We're playing right now the way I knew we could play. Our starting pitching is the best in the league, and our bullpen is right up there, too. We get hits from different guys in the line-up every night. We're just going to keep chipping away at the Dodgers' lead.
We're in Oakland tonight, which is great for me: Closer commute from Lafayette!
See you at the ballpark.
]]>This was one of the best home stands I can remember - and only in part because we went 5-1.
We were coming off a terrible road trip to San Diego and Seattle. We couldn't score any runs for our pitchers. Then we came home and swept Atlanta and took two of three from St. Louis - and as a bonus we had a rare day off at home on Thursday.
And as an added added bonus for me, it so happened that St. Louis was flying in on our off day. Not only was I going to get to see my little brother Yadier, who is the starting catcher for the Cardinals, but he was bringing his wife, Wanda, and their 8-month old son, Yanuel, with him.
Jamie and I drove into the city around midday on Thursday to pick them up at the Ritz Carlton, the Cardinals' hotel, to take them around the city and then back to our house in Lafayette for the night. We pulled up to the front of the building, where Yadier, Wanda and Yanuel were waiting. Then who should emerge from the door but my mother! I couldn't believe it. I just hugged and hugged her. Yadier had flown her in from Puerto Rico to surprise me. He knew I was going through a down time with my hitting - and with the disappointment of hearing boos for the first time from our home fans -- and wanted to cheer me up. It worked. I couldn't have asked for a better gift.
From the hotel, we piled in the car and went for lunch at Fruitlandia, the Puerto Rican restaurant I love so much. Afterward, Jamie and I took the crew to Fisherman's Wharf to see the seals and we drove down the crooked part of Lombard Street. That night, we just chilled at our house. Yadier and I love music so we spent some time sharing songs on our laptops and Ipods.
We had lunch Friday at McCovey's restaurant in Walnut Creek, another favorite of mine, then Yadier and I drove to the ballpark together.
When I got hit by a pitch in Friday's game, and ended up face down on the ground, my family was just arriving at the park. Jamie told me later that my mother looked at me on the ground and Yadier bent over me and said, "He better help him up!'' Yadier kept asking if I was OK.
"I'm fine, but it might slow me down on the bases,'' I said, cracking Yadier up.
Jamie told me she had never seen my mother as happy or enthusiastic as she was watching Yadier and me play on the same field. She was just screaming and cheering both of us. My daughters were also there Friday night. Jamie picked them up at the airport in the late afternoon, and they were so happy to see their grandmother. After the game, all of us went to Mel's Drive-In on Lombard because it's open late. Then Jamie and I dropped Yadier and his family and my mother and daughters at the hotel. My mother was staying in the hotel that night, and my daughters always sleep with her whenever they're together. They adore her and, because they don't see her as often as they would like, they spend every minute with her that they can.
It was tough to say goodbye to my mother and brother on Sunday. I miss them so much. And I'm so proud of how Yadier has matured into such a wonderful man. He's a great dad and a great son to our mother.
On another note, I realized recently that there was one big thing I forgot to tell you.
In February, during spring training, Jamie and I got married in Scottsdale. It was a small, beautiful ceremony at sunset in a little park. We've been together so long - we've known each other 10 years - that I already thought of Jamie as my wife. I can't imagine my life without her. Maybe that's why I didn't think to write about the wedding. We had been married in my mind for a long time already.
]]>Willkan writes: "On last night's broadcast (4/28 vs Dodgers) the Giants' announcers were commenting on Sanchez having a change-up but never throwing it. He uses his splitter as a change-up, they said. Isn't a change-up easier to throw?''
Different pitches are easier for different pitchers. Whatever the pitcher has thrown for a long time is the easiest pitch to throw. If he's been throwing a knuckleball for 20 years, and you want him to throw a curveball -- which is easier for most people - that pitcher would say the knuckleball is easier because that's what he's most comfortable with. Sanchez is more accustomed to throwing a splitter for strikes. The change-up is not as comfortable for him because he's not as used to it.
Here's the second part of Wilkan's question: "I don't understand these fireballers who throw mid to upper nineties with a hard slider to go with it, but they don't throw a change-up. It seems to me that someone throwing 95 would benefit greatly by having a 75 mph change up. Could you comment on this in a future post?''
You're generally not going to see anyone who throws 100 mph throw a 75 mph change-up. You can't slow your body down enough to take 25 mph off your pitch without the batter noticing the change in your motion. A pitcher's change-up is usually between 10 and 15 mph slower than his fastball - that's as much as he can reduce the velocity without tipping off the batter.
That leads me to the answer to your question. The speed of a change-up for a pitcher who throws a 100 mph fastball is going to be about 90 mph. Well, the average velocity of a ML fastball is 90 mph. That's what batters see every day. So if the fireballer throws a 90-mph change-up, the batter has a very good chance of hitting it because he sees it all the time. Therefore, the fireballer has a better chance of fooling the batter by throwing a hard slider that goes out of the strike zone.
This is from
giant_leslie@yahoo.com on April 29: "I just wanted to mention that I really see your influence on Sandoval. The other night, the second game vs. the Dodgers in this series, Sandoval was jumping up and down yelling and throwing his water bottle around with such excitement, and when someone got on first, he was SOO happy! He looked back at you as if to be like "BENGIE!! DID YOU SEE THAT??" and you nodded your head with a sense of calmness. I know how much you like Sandoval, and I just wanted to commend you on all of the time and effort you spend with him.''As I've said before, I love Pablo's spirit and heart. He has brought so much joy to the game for me last year and this year. Maybe I enjoy him so much because he's so different from me. I don't like showing emotion. I keep as even as I can. But sometimes I try to make him calm down a little. I tell him we've still got a game to play and there will be time to celebrate when the game is over.
From
mikeysaldana@yahoo.com: "I saw you having a tough time catching wild pitches but you managed to hold on. I think I only saw one get by you. I just voted for you and all the other giants for the all star game! It's good to see the giants doing great again, and I'm making sure everyone knows because I'm posting it up on my status on myspace everyday! Keep up the winning and the hot hands!''One thing to understand is the difference between a wild pitch that's a fastball and a wild pitch that's a breaking ball. Fastballs are coming in too fast to move your body. You can't block them with your body. You have to throw your glove at it. That's your only chance. A breaking ball is different. You were expecting the pitch to come one place and it comes in a different place. You should be able to block it with your legs and chest.
I was happy to see a note from a fan in England: "Hey Bengie. Great blog - thanks for giving us UK baseball nuts a chance to read what it's really like playing in the majors. I stay up every night to catch the giants on mlb.tv as we are like 7 hours ahead of west coast (don't think my employers are happy but its worth it!) Mark (mes4@hotmail.co.uk).
Mark, while you're in England watching baseball in your free time, I'm in the U.S. watching soccer in my free time. I'm a huge soccer fan, as you probably are, too, living in England. Not sure what team you follow but mine is Manchester United. I watch as much soccer as I can. Every day, I flip through ESPN2 and the Spanish stations to find whatever game is on.
And finally a note from Jingles: "Hey Benjie, you forgot to mention the FANATICAL bus driver, Jingles (aka: Rally Pumpkin) and the way he decorates the bus when he drives the team in So Cal. LOL! Hope to see you again when you're back in LA May 8-10. All the BEST to you and the rest of the Giants. Take Care, Jingles.''
I read this post and then, sure enough, when we got off our plane in Los Angeles last Thursday night, Jingles was right outside the gate. He wasn't our bus driver this time but he showed up anyway. He was there all by himself with an orange jersey, his big San Francisco Giants hat, and a trumpet or something in his hand. He's a cool, great guy. He made me smile when I saw him there - a one-man welcome party.
More later.
]]>All the talk here in L.A., as you might imagine, is about Manny. Not so much in our clubhouse, although of course it comes up. But it's splashed all over the newspapers and on TV and the all reporters want to know what we think.
Here's what I think. I know he's a rival and a Dodger, but he's a good friend of mine, too. He's a nice guy. You don't want to see something like this happen to anybody.
My first reaction when I saw it on the news Thursday morning was, "Wow, why would he do that? He's already a superstar. He's a guy who's so talented he doesn't need any of that.'' You start asking yourself all those kinds of questions.
When all the steroid stuff first came out, back a few years before the Congressional hearings, I had mixed feelings because a lot of the stuff that guys were getting in trouble for wasn't banned yet in the major leagues. I'm sure they were thinking, "OK if this is going to get me over the hump, give me a little edge, I'll try it.''
But now the rules are clear. Now there is no excuse to be using any of it. It's against the rules, and obviously it puts the clean players at a real disadvantage. I don't want to see Matt Cain or any of our pitchers going up against a batter who is on steroids. It's not fair to that pitcher. It's not fair to anyone.
Do I worry that the players who test positive make fans suspicious of all of us? I can't let myself worry about it. People are going to think what they're going to think. People need to remember there are plenty of guys who have had great careers who didn't do any of that. Most players are successful because we have worked, and continue to work, really, really hard.
So I guess fans have to decide for themselves how they want to judge a player. I'm someone who stays away from judging anyone. All of us have our faults and have made our mistakes. So if I see my friend Manny tonight, if he's working out with the team before the game, I'll tell him just to hang there and that I'm thinking about him.
Yesterday, as you know, we had a great game in Colorado. I had two home runs in my first two at-bats. People ask sometimes, after a game like that, if I know right away I'm in a zone. The answer is hardly ever. Most of the time, the pitcher dictates what kind of swing you take. It's not like you can put a ball on a tee and go out there with your best swing. I was lucky that I got a hanging slider my first at-bat and a fastball down the middle on the second. To tell you the truth, I haven't been seeing too many of those pitches this season. Pitchers generally give me nothing in the strike zone.
My third at-bat, I got ahead in the count, which kind of frees up your swing. You can put more into it. (When you're behind in the count, you take a little bit off your swing because you're looking to just put the ball in play.) I really, really hit that ball hard - harder than the first two home runs. I thought it was gone when I hit it. But the wind picked up and was blowing in. When I saw the fielder get under it, I knew it wasn't going out. If it had, it would have the first time I hit three home runs in a game.
Then I had the weird at-bat. I swung, the ball bounced off the plate, hit my hand then trickled down the third-base line about 40 feel from home plate. I didn't run because I knew it had hit my hand and was a foul ball.
But the umpire didn't call it. He said he didn't see it or hear it, so he couldn't call it. Our runner scored, but obviously I was thrown out at first base. So here's a lesson to you Little Leaguers: Don't assume anything. Run everything out. That's what I should have done.
Another lesson for young players from yesterday's game: Never give up. Did you see Matt Cain? He was really struggling, especially early on. He couldn't find the strike zone. He was walking guys - three in the first inning. He had all kinds of trouble. But he got Todd Helton to hit into a double play and then struck out the next guy, I think, to get out of the inning.
He never found his rhythm yesterday, so it was a perfect example of just bearing down. He wasn't hitting his spots and he knew it. But he came out with the win because just kept plugging away one batter at a time.
Matt and I didn't talk too much during the game because he was trying to keep his focus. But after the game, he came up to me and said, "Thank you for getting me through that.''
I told him, "This is the type of game where you earn your money. It's easy to come out and play when you have all your pitches working. It's not easy at all to pitch when you don't.''
So the Dodgers tonight. Can't wait to get back on the field. Every game is important but the ones against the division leader - especially when the division leader happens to be the Dodgers - are especially exciting.
In my next post, I'll answer some of the questions you've been leaving for me. Keep them coming. I really like hearing what's on your mind.
]]>