Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day Ninety-Seven: Matt Cain, San Francisco Giants
Cain is able. He just can’t catch a break.
Each year, without fail, a handful of starting pitchers are unlucky. These are the guys who put together great seasons, only to see their teammates fail to score runs almost every time they’re on the mound. This season, pitchers such as Roy Oswalt of the Houston Astros, Felix Hernandez of the Seattle Mariners and Johan Santana of the New York Mets have suffered from dismal run support, and their low win totals reflect that.
Out in San Francisco, though, the Giants have a young starting pitcher who can beat anyone’s woeful tale of low run support. His name is Matt Cain, he’s 25 years old, and he throws a fastball that can blow a hole through a wall. In his five full seasons, Cain has developed quite nicely from a thrower into a pitcher. But Cain arrived in San Francisco at the tail end of the Barry Bonds years, and his Giants have not yet built a formidable offensive club in the post-Bonds era. Hence, Cain has received very little hitting support throughout his career. To put it in perspective, his career earned-run average of 3.47 is ninth among active pitchers. And yet, his career won-loss record is 52-59.
That’s right – he gives up three and a half runs per nine innings, and he loses more games than he wins. By comparison, Andy Pettitte owns a 3.87 career earned-run average – .40 points higher than Cain’s. And yet, in his first five seasons in the majors, Pettitte had a won-loss record of 81-46. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Pettitte was pitching for the Yankees during those years. Indeed, Pettitte has never had a losing record in his career, even going 14-11 with a 4.70 ERA in 1999. By comparison, Matt Cain went 7-16 with a 3.65 ERA in 2007 and 8-14 with a 3.76 ERA in ’08.
Despite a slightly improved offense this year, Cain is still not getting the run support he surely craves. His ERA is at 3.14, but his record stands at just 8-8. The Giants as a whole have such strong pitching this year that they’re in second place, just behind the Padres, in the National League West. As Saturday’s trade deadline nears, Matt Cain is surely hoping to see his team pick up a potent bat from another team. Should they do so, and should rookie catcher Buster Posey continue hitting the cover off the ball, the Giants might be able to give Matt Cain the one thing he undoubtedly craves more than his own victory total – a trip to the playoffs.
In the October spotlight, Cain would have the chance to introduce himself to the scores of fans who don’t know him from Adam. His own Giants fans and teammates know him quite well, though. And they’d like nothing more than to ride that golden right arm into the promised land.
Showing posts with label Johan Santana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Johan Santana. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
When the Heavy Stuff Comes Down
We don’t get many cyclones here in Central Jersey. There’s a time for everything, though.
Four inches of rain and powerful winds can do terrible things, and they did just that in the New York City area yesterday. Mother Nature brought her torrent of tears to our backyard as well, and she wasn’t willing to negotiate. When the soil had held all the moisture it could contain, the water began streaming up through our basement’s foundation. We pleaded with her to stop, but her lack of cooperation left us with no choice: We pulled out the heavy artillery, plugged in the Shop-Vac, and got to work.
Mother’s response was simple: Shop-Vac this, buddy. No machinery, towels or buckets were going to stem this flow of water. We felt like Little Leaguers up at bat against Johan Santana. As the water rose and spread, the goal became simple: Save the basement. So we did.
By 3 a.m., when the rain had finally subsided, the dozens of gallons of water we’d cleaned up were all safely streaming down the drain. Our carpet is toast, but the basement lives on to see another daylight savings time. Compared to many others in our area, we were very lucky. Amy and I stumbled to bed, and morning arrived far too quickly.
As I was scrambling to mop and sweep and vacuum last night, I found myself thinking quite a lot about my brothers and sisters in Haiti, Chile, New Orleans and Indonesia, who in recent days, months and years have endured exponentially worse conditions due to natural disasters. I was trying to salvage some carpet strips we had bought at Home Depot; the earthquakes, hurricanes and tsunamis we’ve all seen and read about mercilessly swept aside homes, cars and, of course, lives.
I have no real idea what it’s like to live through a true natural disaster. But there was one moment in the middle of the night when I believe I got a small glimpse. Amy and I have had more stress than we’d like in recent weeks – lack of sleep due to our new puppy, winter illnesses in the house, many inches of snow to remove, dual work schedules, and stuff everywhere as the bathroom gets renovated. It’s been hard to find any time to connect and really talk with each other. As a result, we’ve both had much shorter fuses lately.
But at three in the morning, after five hours of fighting this force much stronger than us, it was clear that we had worked incredibly well together, and had prevented this problem from becoming so much worse. It’s not the first time we’ve found strength in each other and endured something difficult together. It’s what we vowed to do 14½ years ago, and what we’d gladly vow to do again today.
What’s more, it’s what anyone who cares for another will do in the face of extreme challenge. Maybe that’s why, amidst all the deep sorrow and mourning in Haiti, I’ve seen photos of individuals smiling and hugging each other. In their eyes, you see the message: We’re still alive, and we’re helping each other find a way to tomorrow. When you’ve found a way through the darkness by holding the hand of another, it seems that there’s a special kind of grace to that. And these moments of peace might just carry along a clarity, perspective and fellowship that you had misplaced somewhere.
Before the storm, Amy and I were complaining about losing the hour to daylight savings time. We were hoping to squeeze in some time to watch “The Hurt Locker,” but we worried that the lost hour and our puppy’s wakeup time would make a mess of that.
Mother Nature took care of that “problem,” and Kathryn Bigelow’s film will wait until another day. But at 3 a.m., as we stood on the cold tile floor of our basement, Amy and I couldn’t have cared less about watching a movie.
We had made it through. Together. So we turned to each other, in between the furnace and the slop sink, and embraced. Not quite Best Picture material, but at the moment it did just fine.
Four inches of rain and powerful winds can do terrible things, and they did just that in the New York City area yesterday. Mother Nature brought her torrent of tears to our backyard as well, and she wasn’t willing to negotiate. When the soil had held all the moisture it could contain, the water began streaming up through our basement’s foundation. We pleaded with her to stop, but her lack of cooperation left us with no choice: We pulled out the heavy artillery, plugged in the Shop-Vac, and got to work.
Mother’s response was simple: Shop-Vac this, buddy. No machinery, towels or buckets were going to stem this flow of water. We felt like Little Leaguers up at bat against Johan Santana. As the water rose and spread, the goal became simple: Save the basement. So we did.
By 3 a.m., when the rain had finally subsided, the dozens of gallons of water we’d cleaned up were all safely streaming down the drain. Our carpet is toast, but the basement lives on to see another daylight savings time. Compared to many others in our area, we were very lucky. Amy and I stumbled to bed, and morning arrived far too quickly.
As I was scrambling to mop and sweep and vacuum last night, I found myself thinking quite a lot about my brothers and sisters in Haiti, Chile, New Orleans and Indonesia, who in recent days, months and years have endured exponentially worse conditions due to natural disasters. I was trying to salvage some carpet strips we had bought at Home Depot; the earthquakes, hurricanes and tsunamis we’ve all seen and read about mercilessly swept aside homes, cars and, of course, lives.
I have no real idea what it’s like to live through a true natural disaster. But there was one moment in the middle of the night when I believe I got a small glimpse. Amy and I have had more stress than we’d like in recent weeks – lack of sleep due to our new puppy, winter illnesses in the house, many inches of snow to remove, dual work schedules, and stuff everywhere as the bathroom gets renovated. It’s been hard to find any time to connect and really talk with each other. As a result, we’ve both had much shorter fuses lately.
But at three in the morning, after five hours of fighting this force much stronger than us, it was clear that we had worked incredibly well together, and had prevented this problem from becoming so much worse. It’s not the first time we’ve found strength in each other and endured something difficult together. It’s what we vowed to do 14½ years ago, and what we’d gladly vow to do again today.
What’s more, it’s what anyone who cares for another will do in the face of extreme challenge. Maybe that’s why, amidst all the deep sorrow and mourning in Haiti, I’ve seen photos of individuals smiling and hugging each other. In their eyes, you see the message: We’re still alive, and we’re helping each other find a way to tomorrow. When you’ve found a way through the darkness by holding the hand of another, it seems that there’s a special kind of grace to that. And these moments of peace might just carry along a clarity, perspective and fellowship that you had misplaced somewhere.
Before the storm, Amy and I were complaining about losing the hour to daylight savings time. We were hoping to squeeze in some time to watch “The Hurt Locker,” but we worried that the lost hour and our puppy’s wakeup time would make a mess of that.
Mother Nature took care of that “problem,” and Kathryn Bigelow’s film will wait until another day. But at 3 a.m., as we stood on the cold tile floor of our basement, Amy and I couldn’t have cared less about watching a movie.
We had made it through. Together. So we turned to each other, in between the furnace and the slop sink, and embraced. Not quite Best Picture material, but at the moment it did just fine.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
