Showing posts with label Game 163. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Game 163. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Joe Thatcher disagrees with my assertions

What are these assertions I speak of and why does Joe Thatcher* stand staunchly in opposition to them?

*I can only assume that Joe Thatcher would disagree with me. But I haven't talked to him.


 I assert that Giants SS Brandon Crawford, while wielding a moderately luke-warm bat in July, sucks to high heaven as a major league ball striker.


I assert that Padres LHP Joe Thatcher, while wielding outstanding splits against lefties, sucks to high heaven as a major league ball hurler.


I assert that it would have been way funnier if this game would have ended on a wild pitch. At 15.0 games out of first place in the NL West I want weird*!

*Would this even be considered weird for Thatcher? Me thinks not. 

Joe Thatcher debuted for the Padres on July 26th, 2007 after arriving from Milwaukee as part of the Scott Linebrink trade. By the summer of '07 I had come to despise Scott Linebrink and welcomed the trade. Thatcher stayed in the Padres bullpen for the remainder of the season which ended catastrophically in Colorado during the shitshow that was -- the one hundred and sixty third game of the season. 

I point out these details to hurt you. To twist the knife into your weary soul. And to call attention to the fact that when Chase Headley* gets traded, Joe Thatcher will be the San Diego Padres most tenured player. Eat that, Wednesday!


* Chase Headley debuted on June 15th, 2007 in Chicago during the series in which Chris Young punched Derek Lee in the face. Or the series in which Chris Young missed Derek Lee's face when he tried to punch Derek Lee in the face. Chase Headley also went 1 for 1 in Game 163. Again . . . eat that, Wednesday!

Thursday, January 13, 2011

A Terrible Trevor Hoffman fan?

So it ends.

After 601 saves Trevor Hoffman hung up his spikes and fans we're left to reflect on a remarkable career. I have begun to think of the successes and failures, but perhaps most importantly, what he has meant to San Diego.

Sorry... but that last one there... I think about it a lot.

As a city without championships San Diegans are often left with little else than the memories of individual players and their place in our community. In that sense the names Gwynn and Hoffman are synonymous; players who enjoyed tremendous on-field success, became trademarks of the Padres organization and pillars of our community---guys who we were proud to call our own.

As I reflected yesterday on the consistency and greatness of Trevor's career I began to sift through and sort his most memorable performances. These were the ones that my mind jigsawed back together:
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  •  October 20th 1998--After a season of absolute dominance and 53 saved games, Trevor surrendered a lead in game 3 of the World Series when he allowed a 3-run HR to Yankees 3rd baseman, Scott Brosius. The blown save would lead to a game 3 loss that evening and the series would end abruptly the following night (television).
  • September 29th, 2007-- (game 161) With an opportunity to clinch the division against the Milwaukee Brewers Trevor could not keep the light hitting Tony Gwynn Jr. from pulling an RBI triple down the line. TGJ's hit sent the game to extra innings where it would end in the 11th with a disheartening Padres loss. The son of the greatest player in the history of the Padres franchise had dashed our hopes while batting against perhaps the second most beloved player (television).
  • October 1st, 2007-- (game 163) In the most heartbreaking game in my time as a Padres fan Trevor let open the floodgates against the Colorado Rockies in the 13th inning of game 163. The third, and winning, run scored when Matt Holiday's chin bounced off the Denver dirt and he was ruled safe by home plate umpire Tim McClelland (television).
  • June 24th, 2008-- The Padres, mired in a miserable follow-up to the 2007 season, trotted out Trevor Hoffman during the 9th inning of a 1-1 tie. I told my wife that he never does well entering a game in the 8th or with runners on base... or during a tie game. After striking out the first two batters in the top half of the 9th he gave up two HRs in rapid succession. My wife, a calm and reasonable person, became vocal in her displeasure. I did something I rarely ever do... I booed. I booed Trevor Hoffman (attended).
As I took stock of my fanhood and recalled the most lucid moments in Trevor Hoffman's career I came to the only logical conclusion: I am a terrible Trevor Hoffman fan.

I beat myself up over it. How could a player who exhibited such greatness serve only as the tragic punchline to my most memorable pains as a Padres fan?

I sat and thought and was left with little reward for the effort. I could come up with no specific performances of greatness by Trevor. Sure, I could remember change-ups that dropped off the table leaving hitters baffled but there was no 1-2-3 inning requiring a mere 3 pitches. There was no 9 pitch inning of 3 batters coaxed into flailing swings at the famous change-up. Nor could I recall some great defensive stab whereupon Trevor wielded to second base for an inning ending double play.

There had to be something. While the Padres could never claim that memorable World Series moment where everyone mobbed the closer like the Mets did to Jesse Orosco* in the 1986 WS, there had to be something about a Trevor appearance that stood out...

And then the cobwebs began to clear from the deepest recesses of my mind and a smile appeared on my face. I began to remember.

In fact I began to remember every game I attended where Trevor Hoffman pitched... and then I began to remember his appearances I watched on television... and there was a similar artistry to them all. I had not forgotten a thing.

My memory was not limited to the scars that were produced so many years before. I recalled the rhythm to each and every one of Trevor's entrances. They were remarkably consistent in both appearance and performance.

As a fan I realized that I didn't need to remember anything more specific than the sound of Hells Bells playing over the PA or my imagination of the tune being played during the commercial break of a telecast watched at home. It didn't matter that Hells Bells was not played when Trevor had a save opportunity on the road.... because it automatically became my mind's soundtrack each and every time. 
 

If Hells Bells was played it meant Trevor Time... and if Trevor made his late inning appearance it was near certain the Padres would walk off the field with a win.

Trevor Hoffman walked off the field a winner almost 9 out of 10 times during his career... and for me, wins aren't too bad of a memory.

Thanks Trevor.

* The final out of the '86 series is one of my favorites. Jesse Orosco flipped his glove high into the New York sky after the final out of game 7; it was an action I would often imitate amongst friends at the ball field. Orosco would go on to pitch for another 20 years or so and during the latter stretch of his career he would go trick or treating at my parent's house. Actually he accompanied his children to my house on Halloween. Jesse Orosco was my neighbor for a short time here in San Diego but I never mustered the nerve to ask him to recreate that October night in 1986. That would have been cool.