OK, it is now time to panic if you are a Giants fan

OK, it is now time to panic if you are a Giants fan
June 29, 2014, 6:00 pm
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Hey, life sucks, and then you get a hip replacement, kids.
Ray Ratto

Okay, it is now time to panic if you are a Giant fan. Not because there aren’t 80 games left, and not because you don’t know how hard it is to hold a .00145180023229 lead with 13 weeks to play, and not because you don’t understand that when you make fun of how poorly the Padres hit, you risk the vengeance of the now-celestial Mighty Gwynn.

It’s because you’ve wanted to panic for the better of two weeks now, and now with a new closer, you also get the fear of the unknown. Oh yeah, we know you’ll handle this very, very well.

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Meanwhile, the A’s. Yeah, the A’s. This Bay Bridge Series thing is about to become a huge Dudley Do-Wrong. And Bob Melvin, who won’t admit it, is cackling like an entire henhouse on angel dust and Cheetos.

As he should. As he should.

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And speaking of handling things well, here’s to Jason Kidd, who hilariously and loftily overplayed his hand in Brooklyn and is now going hat-in-hand to Milwaukee of all places to get his dream job of controlling all aspects of a rancid basketball operation. His name is now mud in assuming-leverage-you-didn’t-have-circles, and his next NBA job is with whatever team Donald Sterling owns after the Clippers, if you know what we mean and we think you do.

On the other hand, the Cal athletic director’s job is open, and that’s only moderately thankless by comparison. Well, played, Kidd-O. Even if you get everything you want in Milwaukee, you’ll be getting everything you want in Milwaukee.

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Okay, so the Miami Heat only has Norris Cole left on its roster. But since we know that Le Grande Troisieme are all coming back, whether mean old Uncle Pat Riley wants it or not, there really is no loser here.

Except of course for Carmelo Anthony, who can now become the centerpiece for the Bucks. I mean, clearly, the money’s the same everywhere unless you play in Toronto, right? Just ask the leverage master. He couldn’t get Derek Fisher’s contract one way, so he damned well will get it another.

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So Holland’s Arjen Robben, Gravity’s Biggest Buzzkill, says he did dive on the call he didn’t draw a penalty kick for, but that he didn’t dive on the one that he did. Thus, he makes a friend of referee Pedro Proenca (who was the bookies’ favorite to work the World Cup final), defies the eyes of millions of fellow global citizens, and earns the eternal ire of Mexico coach Miguel (My Brain Explodes At Noon, 4 and 8 Each Day) Herrera.

Hey, life sucks, and then you get a hip replacement, kids. You let Robben get into the box that often, eventually he’s going to stick the landing. When he’s on his game, it’s with his face.

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Joe Montana’s passive-aggressive distaste for the 49ers takes on mysterious forms, like telling the NFL Network that Seattle looks like a dynasty in the making.

“I think they have the capability to,” he said, softly easing his index finger into Jed York’s exposed right eye. “When you look at the way the team is put together, they’re young, they’re aggressive; their coach is very aggressive and upbeat. Anytime you can make going to work fun, even though you’re playing as I say ‘a stupid game for a living,’ it makes going to that facility every day really a joy. When you’re having fun at what you’re doing, you’re always a lot better at it.”

Frankly, I like the honesty. I also like the very real  possibility that he did it to annoy the hell out of Jedediah and the family. A rivalry should always have a few turncoats on either side. Otherwise, it’s just fighting over the last piece of brisket.

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And finally, nobody is saying this for the record, but Roger Bennett’s glasses are actually X-ray specs, and he can see all of you naked. Live with that image until tomorrow, suckers.