I Hope My Kids Don't See This

-The fragrance worn on the field by your San Francisco Giants: Lefty-Righty Obsession by Bruce Bochy.

-First it seemed obsessive to include Randy Winn's consistent .260 bat in the middle of our lineup. Instead now I believe it is the establishment attempting to squeeze every last drop out of the ol' workhorse before he heads for other pastures in the winter.

-When Nate Schierholtz reaches safely, I say, "Eat your pancakes, Nate the Great," in homage to the Marjorie Sharmat series of child detective novels.

-Most of you wouldn't care, but the most important baseball book released this year was Bruce Weber's As They See 'Em: A Fan's Travel in the Land of Umpires. It mostly told me what I already knew: you have to possess a tweak in the brain to want that job, as well as too much luck.

-I saw Safeco Field back in May. It's pretty, safe, and non-threatening, like the rest of Seattle. And all over the yard, it's Ken Griffey this, Ken Griffey that, because that's largely all they've got to daydream about. At least the MLS Sounders are around to keep Seattleites company.

-Ever wonder why you never see Matt Cain and cartoon funnyman Bobby Hill in the same place at the same time?

-Yet another year with home-field advantage for the American League thanks to Bud's idiotic decision to have that hinge on the outcome of the All-Star Game. Hurts my spleen just thinking about it.

-To the surprise of many, Ron Washington has the Rangers within striking distance. Too bad their offense decided to take an early holiday.

-Well, the A's handed the Cardinals the pennant vis-a-vis Matt Holliday.

-The culture of expectations has reanimated at AT&T Park. Cheering for Barry Zito? That never ever happened before.

-Stephen Strasburg and Scott Boras took WSH to the cleaners, natch.

-A. Bartlett Giamatti is still dead.

-David Eckstein : starting second baseman :: Rutherford B. Hayes : president of the United States

-Last night's Yank-Jay brawl: reinforcement that no matter how much money, power, fame, games on the rest of the American League East, or empty front-row seats that the Bronx Bombers possess, they will always assume you're undermining them and act accordingly. And of course, it ain't Papa Torre in there to pacify everyone now. It's Mastah Chief Joe Girardi, who still wants to rumble at any opportunity. Jesse Carlson earned that knot on his forehead, although he should have truly been backing up the throw, not moseying over to the wrong side of the plate, standing on the train tracks to await Jorge Posada's arrival. And you had to bray like a mule after Posada's sheepish statement that he hopes his kids won't see him throwing the weakest forearm since A-Rod slapped the ball out of Bronson Arroyo's glove.

-Fire Joe Morgan, to which my blog owes its namesake, roasts "scrappy ballplayers" like Eckstein in their triumphant reunion on Deadspin today. Holla back.