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Murph: We may have to reassess our feelings about the 2019 Giants


© Kelley L Cox | 2019 Jul 18


It started in mid-June, a little flicker when they won four straight against the Padres and Brewers. But, naw, back then the Giants were 30-38, eight games under and we were all busy enmeshed in Warriors drama, ACLs, Achilles tendons, all that.

It picked up a little when a guy named Alex Dickerson showed up and hit a grand slam. That was intriguing, for sure. Especially when the dugout started chanting “DICK! DICK! DICK!”

But still, we were all: “Is KD going to Brooklyn or what?”

And then came July.

And as can happen in this strange and wonderful and timeless game of baseball, in which there is no clock and they play 162 games and months pass, things happen. The A’s once won 20 in a row. The 1978 Red Sox blew a 14 1/2 game summer lead. The 1995 Angels blew an 11 game lead in August.

It’s baseball. Strange things happen. And since it’s “Stranger Things” night at the yard tonight, I’m here to say way, way stranger things have happened in baseball than the idea of the 2019 Giants making a postseason run.

I know, I know. It sounds insane for a team whose outfield roster resembles the drummer roster for “Spinal Tap.” I know, I know. It sounds insane for a team who was 1,000 percent hell bent on trading Madison Bumgarner and Will Smith to fortify for the Joey Bart/Heliot Ramos 2020s.

But . . . strange things are happening.

The trip to San Diego where they scored 30 runs in three games to open July, and swept the Pads at Oracle South. The homestead with the Cardinals where they took two of three.

Next thing you knew, Kevin Durant was in Brooklyn, and our attention turned to this strange trip to Milwaukee — Yastrzemski! A Buster granny! — and an epic four-game sweep in Colorado, which redefined the boundaries of what was going on.

Throw in a 16th inning comeback last night vs the Mets and, well, we may have to reassess our feelings about the 2019 Giants.

This is baseball. Momentum happens. Bats wake up. Crowds get more lively. Summertime runs happen. Dugouts chant “DICK! DICK! DICK!”

And the next thing you know, Madison Bumgarner is saying “I don’t give a s—t . . . we’re coming.”

Hey baseball fans. Grab a crab sandwich. The Giants are watchable, and about to pen some chapters that may include some strange things. Strange and wonderful things, even.

 

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