Ratto: Giants 'Don't Do Anything Easy'


Ratto: Giants 'Don't Do Anything Easy'


SAN FRANCISCO -- But first, this word from Counting Your Unhatched Chickens Theatre.

The Giants, who arose Thursday one step away from a World Series, will arise again Friday and then again Saturday, still one step away from a World Series. And, it should be added, one step closer to a potential flameout of galling proportions.

But then, youve already done those mental gymnastics, havent you?

Thursdays 4-2 loss to the Philadelphia Phillies in Match Point No. 1 was a clinical, almost bloodless performance by the cornered defending champions. Indeed, the longer the game went, the more the ballpark vibe dissipated as the customers were reminded why the Phillies are considered, well, the Phillies.

And why magic, magic, magic isnt going to spackle and paint this particular wall.

As you know, we dont do anything easy, Giants manager Bruce Bochy said in that mono-baritone he uses when the mood demands it. We were under no illusion thinking this would be easy. We just made a couple of mistakes.

Well, yes. First baseman Aubrey Huff playing a sharp grounder from Shane Victorino into a sharp grounder into center field stood out, as it accelerated the Phils game-winning third inning rally. So did Cody Ross commandment-violating running error, being thrown out at third base to end the fourth.

This wasnt the Giants game to lose, but the Phillies game to win, and the Phillies did that very thing.

Roy Halladay muscled his way through six painful innings (he pulled a groin in the second inning) and dropped a bunt in front of the plate right before Victorinos smash put the Phillies in business. Placido Polanco lined a two-run single to left, and Jayson Werth aired out a ninth-inning homer to make sure no delusions of grandeur would be permitted.

In short, the Phillies reminded the giddy locals that the king must be killed before there is a new king, and the Phillies dont die easy.

Youll want to remember that Saturday, and maybe even Sunday, before you start calling the caterer.

I feel like Ive got to tell, someone will say it anyway, Phillies manager Charlie Manuel said, burnishing the Halladay legend. Second inning, he had a mild groin pull, his right groin. And he pitched like -- of course, he stayed in there.

Manuel said Halladay incurred the injury trying to hump up on Posey in the second inning, which didnt happen, because Posey didnt bat in the second, or even the third. Halladay, in fact, said, he hurt it facing Ross in the second.

Its always satisfying to win something like that, and youd rather not have to overcome anything, Halladay said when asked how it felt to perform as he did with an injury. Youd rather just win the game. Thats the great feeling about what it meant.

In short, the Giants did next to nothing with this apparent gift, because Halladay is nobodys farm implement, and nobodys porcelain knick-knack. They got only five baserunners on after Ross double (which is coming up shortly on your screen), and they all rest comfortably in this evenings box score, unharmed by the onus of the run column.

The Giants, who keep surrounding a big offensive game without ever achieving it, got their top-two hitters, Andres Torres and Freddy Sanchez, on base six times, in succession in the first and fifth innings. That was the first time that had occurred, but the Giants scored only once because second baseman Chase Utley handled a Buster Posey grounder like an iced-over hamster.

Then came the back-to-back doubles by Pat Burrell and Ross that became the Giants last gasp.

I think he felt he had it easy, Bochy said, trying to explain away the obvious mistake, and Werth made a terrific throw, right on the money. But its the last thing you want to do is make the third out there. He knows it.

Indeed, the Ross-istic magic ebbed Thursday. The RBI double was helpful, as those things typically are, but the running gaffe and the three other strikeouts sucked a little air out of the legend of The Other Beard. He missed a cutter and a changeup from the gimpy Halladay, and a nasty slider from Ryan Madson.

And it all ... just ... faded away. The big, shiny sense of anticipation that vibrated the building slowly but surely dissipated as the reality sank in that this was one of those nights that belonged to the other guy. The better guy. The disappointing favorite that wouldnt die on cue because champions dont do that.

Now the circus moves back to Philadelphia, and with it a whole new set of anxieties for both sides. The Giants are ordinary again, and the Phillies are sending Roy Oswalt out on two days rest. This is not uncharted territory, but it makes figuring out Game 6 a fools errand.

So return with us in two days time, fools. This little dog-and-pony show has more stops, not to mention starts, before it comes to rest and you can start plotting out your November shopping.
Ray Ratto is a columnist for Comcast SportsNet Bay Area.

Internet immediately goes to DefCon1 on Chip Kelly-to-Cal


Internet immediately goes to DefCon1 on Chip Kelly-to-Cal

In what can be considered your standard bolt out of the blue, California head football coach Sonny Dykes has reportedly been fired.

In what can be considered your standard spur-of-the-Internet-moment-connect-the-dots inspiration, the Internet went immediately to DefCon1 on Chip Kelly-to-Cal rumors.

The logic, of course, is impeccable. Dykes never really snapped the Cal program around, taking a bad program and making it, well, mediocre, and he has spent much of the past two years aggressively seeking out other jobs, so one can assume there was at least some trouble in paradise, even if you want to make the case that Cal football and paradise are somehow connected.

And Kelly just got canned by the 49ers as part of Jed York’s latest I-will-not-be-made-to-look-ridiculous twitch, so he could sign a properly modest contract at Berkeley and still get his full $6 million with the offset from the three years left on his Jed deal.

So it makes perfect sense . . . which is why it should be judged with considerable skepticism.

For one, Kelly can almost surely do better in the college job diaspora. Cal is a big name with modest ambitions due in part to constant budget constraints, and there are better jobs out there even if he sits for a year.

For two, Cal and Kelly are an odd fit, given the persistent tensions between academia and athletica at Berkeley.

For three, the job comes with massive roadblocks, including Stanford, USC, Washington and (potentially) a resuscitation of the Oregon he left behind. Success will not come easy, if it does at all.

For four, Cal just finished four years of gimmick offense and overburdened defense, and Kelly would provide a more successful version of the same.

And for five, this is too easy, too simple, too convenient. Something about this scenario must be wrong somewhere. When people hit the Internet with photoshopped Kelly-in-Cal-costumes within minutes of the Dykes announcement, you know this is too obvious to actually come to fruition.

Why? Because we don’t live that well, that’s why.

The beauty of a triumphant Kelly at Cal glowering down at the charred ruin in Santa Clara seems more appealing than it actually is, because try as they might, Cal fans will never be backing the more popular horse here, and Kelly won’t win that battle unless he takes Cal to the Rose Bowl while the 49ers are still grappling over draft positions.

In that way, reality sucks. The idea that Jed York could be mocked in collegial absentia by his two biggest coaching hires is delicious but almost surely illusory.

But until we get more on why Dykes got canned 43 days after the team’s last game – recruiting, academic issues, legal issues, photocopier problems from him sending his resume out so often – all we have is the Chip Kelly rumor-ette to keep us intrigued.

Okay, to keep us amused.

Okay, to keep us from falling over in a coma. Cal should matter more than it does, but it’s been 13 years since the Holiday Bowl zenith of the Jeff Tedford Era, and 25 since Bruce Snyder took the Ursines to the Citrus Bowl. The evidence since 1990 is of a team with bigger dreams than means that is slightly below .500 (160-164). Sonny Dykes leaving means one more coach who didn’t make an impact unless his departure leads to either reassessment of the program’s standards, internal or external sanctions . . .

. . . or what the hell, Chip Kelly. Let’s face it – in these dismal days for wacked-out rumormongering, this is pretty intoxicating stuff.

Warriors are most geographically vague team in history of American sports


Warriors are most geographically vague team in history of American sports

The Philadelphia/San Francisco/Golden State Warriors have always had a casual attitude about their home court, even by the once-flexible standards of the National Basketball Association.

Thus, it should be only slightly amusing but not actually surprising that Warriors chief arenologist Rick Welts is now waffling a bit (courtesy Comrade Poole) on whether the team will change its name to San Francisco Warriors when it moves across the pond in 2019-20, or retain its current geographic association with Narnia.

I mean Golden State. I often confuse utterly fictional locales – when I can be bothered to give a toss either way.

But the Warriors, whether they play in Oakland, San Francisco, Pier 30, Pier 32, Westeros, Hobbiton, the Duchy of Grand Fenwick, Curryvania, the Klingon Empire, the Death Star or Planet Nine, are relocating, and once they break the seal on the earth in 12 days, Welts and his fellow elves will almost surely play the team’s future name as a mildly tedious cliffhanger.

Hey, fun is where you find it.

The matter of the team’s relocation will be a sore subject among lifelong East Bay residents, who have put up with the Warriors for 45 years in various stages of development, including the current “We Almost Never Lose” stage. They regard the Warriors’ transplantation to San Francisco to be an unspeakable crime given the high level of fan allegiance afforded them in Oakland.

And yes, they regard Oakland and San Francisco as very real places, as opposed to Golden State, Freedonia, Vulgaria or the Nexus of All Realities.

It is not yet fully known what San Franciscans think of this development, but that’s the nature of the gamble here. They may embrace the Warriors as the new toy in town and then lose interest, and frankly, neither Welts nor anyone else knows the answer to that.

Either way, their die is cast, and Joe Lacob and Peter Guber are now future former Oakland fixtures. Yes, they are quite fond of the exciting new real estate values and their exciting new unobstructed view of the bay, but it has long been assumed that the move would also entail changing the name back to “San Francisco” for the snob appeal.

Now Welts, who has overseen both arena projects (including the one at Piers 30 and 32 which ended up with the piers beating the Warriors in a rout), tells Comrade Poole that the San Francisco Warriors might not end up as the San Francisco Warriors after all.

“Four years ago, I think the conventional wisdom in our building here in Oakland was that yes, we should attach a city name to the team, then it becomes a more global franchise,” Welts marketing-gobbledy-gooked. “There was a lot of head-scratching four years ago about where the Golden State Warriors even played, in other parts of the world. What’s happened with the team over the course of the ensuing years, until today, has made the Warriors if not the preeminent, at least among the three best-known NBA franchises around the world. And everybody who didn’t know where the Golden State Warriors were four years ago, if you’re a fan today, anywhere in the world, you know where the Golden State Warriors are.”

In Oakland.

Now, the mic drop.

“The team’s success has caused us to really rethink whether or not that’s something we should or want to do,” he added. “I guess it’s fair to say there’s been no final decision made. But if you were a betting man, I think you would probably want to wager that the name might remain the same.”

Of course. Why not stay fictional when specificity might move fewer hoodies?

Then again, this is a team that in its 70 years has played home games in Philadelphia (the Arena, the Civic Center, Lincoln High School and Convention Hall), Hershey and Bethlehem PA, Atlantic City, Trenton, Collingswood and Camden NJ, and Saratoga Springs NY . . .

(a moment’s rest here to catch our breaths)

. . . and then after moving west in 1962, the Cow Palace, San Francisco Civic Auditorium and USF’s Memorial Gym, the Oakland Auditorium, San Jose Civic Auditorium, San Jose Arena, Richmond Auditorium, then Sacramento, Bakersfield, Fresno, San Diego, Eugene, Seattle, Phoenix and Salt Lake City.

In fact, and you can swindle the gullible at your neighborhood tavern with this one, the Warriors’ first game in San Francisco occurred almost three years before the team left Philadelphia. The Warriors played the visitors to the Minneapolis Lakers, who moved to Los Angeles a year later and had already played a regular season game at the Cow Palace earlier in the year, so this game, January 31, 1960, could have been considered a civic scouting trip for both teams as they sought new homes.

In other words, the Warriors are almost surely the most geographically vague team in the history of North American sports. Moreover, they are about to become the first team in sports history to go home for the third time under three different city names – Philadelphia, San Francisco and Krypton, or whatever the hell they want to call themselves this time.