Zito leaves Giants fans with no complaints


Zito leaves Giants fans with no complaints


SAN FRANCISCO -- Once again, Giant fans have discovered that nothing is forever, nothing is certain, nothing is guaranteed.And yes, that metaphorical middle finger is Barry Zitos.Only three days after Giant fans lost the right to worry about the end of Tim Lincecums career, they settled into old and familiar ground kicking Zito while he was taking a knee.So of course Zito rose from his Tebonic position Monday and shut out the Los Angeles Dodgers for seven innings in an 8-0 win.INSTANT REPLAY: Giants 8, Dodgers 0
Yes, seven. Barry Zito. Thats right. Dont argue with us.Now we grant you these are not the Dodgers of April or May. They have hit a wall and are holding on the best record in the National league only because Washington and Cincinnati cant close on them.But the Giants, as members of the National League, cant exactly claim juggernaut status either. They have burrowed into the wild card race by having just enough hitting and just enough pitching to be neither the Astros nor the Rockies, and they have done this largely without Lincecum or, for the last three starts, Zito.Well, Lincecum bottomed out Friday night before restoring himself with five shutout innings against the Oaklands, and Zito stopped his latest freefall with seven innings of three-hit, three-walk work against the Giants ancestral rivals.Just in time to take him off the waffle iron of death, it seems.And now Giant fans are temporarily lost, for there is no starting pitcher for them to pace nervously about, and that makes them jumpy.The Giants have been starting pitcher-loaded for years now, and if it werent for Zitos elephantine contract, theyd have had nothing to complain about at all in this area. He was the gift that kept on giving, year in and year out. Indeed, some folks consider his high-water mark as a Giant not being a disruptive influence when he was left off the 2010 postseason roster.But he fooled them in 2012 and churned up decent outing after decent outing, building up a measure of hesitant good will while collecting the paychecks that so outrage the citizens.Then he hit what seemed to be his annual wall, losing to the Rangers, Astros and Angels in succession, each with worse numbers than the outing before it. He had hit E in June, the populace cackled. He was Zito again.And well, maybe he was. Then again, we might have been grading on a harsh curve for him against the Rangers and Angels, who are loaded with hitters and have abused the games best. The loss to Houston . . . well, he has to own that one.Still, three straight losses jacked his record from 5-2 to 5-5, and his ERA from 2.98 to 4.35, so he came into Mondays start prepared to disappoint the audience. And therefore give the audience what it expected to see.Then he walked Dee Gordon to start the game on five pitches, and promptly exceededundershot expectations. Oh yeah . . . this was going to be a meltdown for the epoch.Except he got Elian Herrera to ground into a double play. The he got Andre Ethier to ground to short. Then after walking Juan Rivera and A.J. Ellis in the second, he beat the reaper with a strikeout and two modest fly balls, and wasnt troubled again until the seventh.He was Un-Zito again, as he was before, and the crowd that knew what was coming when they entered the ballpark left slack-jawed and confused by what they had been given instead. Zito had Vogelsong-ed the audience but good.Now we could try to break the game down to explain how Zito performed this tour de bras, but weve heard it all before. Lets just say he suckered the audience one more time in this bizarre season, and is back in their good graces until Saturday against another longtime fan favorite, Cincinnatis Mat Latos.And yes, its Acid Reflux Day at the ballpark, so bring your kids and your enraged stomachs. Itll be a party for everyone.

Frank Deford's longform storytelling made him worthy of our attention


Frank Deford's longform storytelling made him worthy of our attention

Frank Deford’s death over the weekend did not mark the end of longform sportswriting as we knew it; he had long ago become part of the electronic commentariat that has reduced longform’s place in the public’s attention span.

But there is still longform writing and storytelling to be found in many places, and it is still worthwhile. It has more production value, as the TV folks like to blather, and the words have to fight for their place between the cracks left by the pictures and the mutated graphics, but longform lives, and it should, lest we all agree as one people to further desiccate that attention span like a grapefruit left in the sun.

Deford’s death, though, reminds of when longform was the zenith of the storytelling art. It could, and still can, give you access and depth and breadth that a TV crew simply could not, and cannot. Even extended TV features are by their very nature so contrived by all the equipment that nothing is natural, nothing is a surprise, and the act of writing is almost an afterthought.

Deford knew this. He more than merely dabbled in TV himself, playing the wizened old raconteur who was as much character in his pieces as storyteller. He was also a star and a starmaker with The National, a daily sports network in newspaper form that was long on talent and ideas but short on delivery and distribution. It lasted 17 months, until mid-1991, but it led to grander attempts decades later, and could if you squint your eyes hard enough be the natural parent of Grantland and The Ringer and Vice and SB Nation and dozens of others – all bigger ideas, positioned in the post-typing world. Some lasted, more didn’t, but capitalism is like that – making fuel to keep the fires burning and the engines churning.

Deford could have thrived in such a world, to be sure. He was not, in the hideous phrase, “a man of his time.” Indeed, he was a crossover figure years ago in ways that other longform writers attempt to resist even now. They want to be Deford at the height of his powers at a time when the instruments for their gift are either dying or veering away from anything that hits the 600-word mark.

But his passing did not kill the art of clever writing and incisive storytelling. There are far too many people who can do that still, even if the market for their gifts is neither as pronounced nor as eager for the product as it once was. It did remind us not only that he was a giant, but that there are still giants among us should we deign to take the time to seek them.

Thus, Deford’s death marked his passing but not the thing that made him worthy of our attention. Storytelling, longform and otherwise, remains the heart of why this is still worthwhile to a culture, and when the generation his work spawned starts to die off, I suspect we’ll still be saying the same thing then. Notebooks are smartphones, photographs are streams, but the human eye and ear and hand still remain pre-eminent.

That is, until the robots take over, at which point reading won’t be worth it.

Does St. Louis' suit against NFL mean hope for the City of Oakland?

Does St. Louis' suit against NFL mean hope for the City of Oakland?

You thought you were done worrying about the Raiders. You thought the votes were in, the moving vans booked for three years down the road, and all gnashing and sharpening of teeth was over. You thought you were free.

Then those buttinsky-come-latelies from St. Louis decided to rear their litigious heads, and now you find yourselves slipping back into that desperate-hope world from which no one escapes.

It seems the city and its regional sports authority has decided to sue the National Football League and its 32 semi-independent duchies over the relocation of the Rams 15 months ago because, and you’ll like this one, the league allegedly did not follow its own relocation rules when it moved the team.

As you know, there is no such thing as a rule if everyone governed by the rule decided unanimously to ignore the rule. This doctrine falls under the general heading of, “We’re billionaires, try and stop us.”

But all lawsuits have a common denominator, and that is that there is money at the end of the rainbow. St. Louis is claiming it is going to miss out on approximately $100 million in net proceeds (read: cash) and has decided that the NFL and especially their good pal Stan Kroenke is going to have to pay for permission to do what they have already done -- specifically, leave.

Because the suit was filed in St. Louis, the benefits of home field advantage apply, and the league is likely to have to reinflate their lawyers for some exciting new billable hours.

As to whether it turns into a windfall for the jilted Missourians, well, as someone who has known lawyers, I would list them as prohibitive underdogs. But there is nuisance value here, which brings us to Oakland.

The city and county, as we know, did not put its best shoe forward in trying to lure the Raiders into staying or the other 31 owners into rejecting the team’s pleas for geographical relief. By that, we mean that the city and county did not fall all over itself to meet the league’s typically extortionate demands.

But they did play angry enough to start snipping about the 2019 part of the Raiders’ 3-More-Coliseum-Years plan, and they are threatening to sue over about $80K in unpaid parking fees, so filing their own breach-of-rules lawsuit might be a possibility.

Because, hey, what’s the point of sounding like a nuisance if you can’t actually become one?

By now, it is clear that everyone in SuitWorld got what it needed out of the Raiders’ move. The city and county could concentrate on guiding the A’s into activity on their own new stadium. The team could go where Mark Davis has been agitating for it to go for at least three years – somewhere else. The state of Nevada could find a place for that $750 million that was burning a hole in its casino vault. And the league went to a market that it, at first reluctantly and then enthusiastically, decided should be its own.

The fans? Oh, please. Who cares about them? To the NFL, and to all corporations in all walks of business, folks are just walking wallets.

But for some cash? Well, climb on board, suckers. The gravy train is pulling out on Track 3.

Nobody is fool enough to think the Raiders would be forced to return. Hell, even St. Louis isn’t asking for the Rams back. They just want to get paid for the money they probably banked on in the good old days before Stan Kroenke decided to head west.

And that would doubtless be Oakland’s stance as well if. Now the circumstances are slightly different, in that St. Louis worked harder to keep the Rams than Oakland did to keep the Raiders. St. Louis scared up $350 million toward new digs for the Rams, well short of what Kroenke would have accepted, while Oakland said it could get its hands on some infrastructure money and no more.

But Mayor Libby Schaaf complained in her relocation post mortem that the league didn’t follow its own guidelines (yay correlation as causation!), maybe with an eye toward throwing a few lawyers into the fire to see how long it would burn.

There is not yet any indication that the city and county are going that route (and the silence may simply mean that they are sick of the Raiders’ saga as everyone else seems to be), but if they do, well, don’t freak out that the team might be forced to return.

Except, of course, in that place where migraines start. Dragging this back up is a bit like the phantom pain amputees feel -- but hey, people will do a lot for a bit of court-ordered cash. Anyone who has ever watched Judge Judy will understand.