, who won some and lost some, put it best: All skill is in vain when an angel pees in the touchhole of your musket
There are some days when it would have been better to never have gotten out of the bed. For the San Francisco Giants, that was Tuesday
. A seven-run Kansas City eruption put the game out of reach in the second inning; innings three through nine took on the "How did you enjoy the rest of the play, Mrs. Lincoln?" patina.
Yesterday's outing grew superfluous and perfunctory, and right quick. For the record, the Giants lost, 10-0
. But, you know what? Who really cares about that score? All eyes turned toward Game 7 before the last out had been recorded in that nightmarish second inning.
Well, why not? If you're a disinterested party, what could be better? A winner-take-all scenario arises Wednesday, with the specter of Madison Bumgarner
being summoned from the purgatory of short rest to win this thing for San Francisco. Single-handedly.
A left-handed ace coming back on two days rest to power his team to victory: There is a precedent for this. But it breaches the sport's poignant and ethereal reaches; that strange baseball realm which reduces grown men into children.
Because we are entering The Koufax Zone