Misery Loves Company

Sure, Barry Zito is having a lousy season. As I write, he's 2-10 with a 5.88 ERA.

But get this: there are several other major-league starters whose numbers are just about as bad. Of course, few of them are being pilloried in the way Zito is because their contracts aren't quite as eye-popping. Still, here's a multi-million dollar Hall of Shame among starting pitchers, complete with links to their full stats:

• Brad Penny, Dodgers (same ERA as Zito)
• Miguel Batista, Mariners (an even more dreadful 6.09 ERA and a WHIP--walks plus hits per inning pitched--number higher than Zito's)
• Brett Tomko, Royals (so what else is new?)
• Brett Myers, Phillies (he's already given up 20 home runs!)

I could go on. And I didn't even mention poor Dontrelle Willis, who signed a fat deal with the Tigers, got hurt, pitched badly, and was shipped off to Class A ball to see if he could do something about his 10.32 ERA.

Barry, you're not great this year, but you're not alone.

Rock Star Tim

He looks like a pleasant enough fellow. By all accounts, he is a nice guy. But make no mistake. That fresh-faced kid is dangerous.

Tim Lincecum turns 24 years old in a couple of days and he's rapidly becoming a nightmare for big-league hitters. He arrived in the majors last year with a stupid-fast fastball, a slightly-askew delivery, and that Opie Taylor look.

People wondered, at first, if the Giants were rushing their prized first-round draft choice. Nobody's wondering any more.

Lincecum still has the blazing fastball, but he's added a nasty little curve and his changeup is now on a par with the best (think Trevor Hoffman in his prime). What's a hitter to do? Often, in Mike Krukow's words, "Grab some pine, Meat!"

But the best thing about watching Lincecum pitch is his attitude. There's that little sneer on his face when he throws. And there's a growing sense of a guy who is lord of all he surveys. In last night's game against the Rockies, he appeared to have retired the side on a swinging strikeout. Lincecum was almost across the foul line on his way to the dugout when he realized the third-base umpire had ruled a foul tip, a call you almost never see.

No worries for Rock Star Tim. He went back to the mound, struck the guy out again, and then fixed a nice steely glare on the ump as he left the field. He may look like a scrawny kid, but he's large and in charge.

Bad Bats

Baseball needs to do something about those maple bats.

If you've been watching any ballgames the last year or two, you've undoubtedly noticed an increasing number of shattered bats. "So what?" you say. Broken bats have always been part of baseball.

Not like this. In the past, the broken bat was a hallmark of a good pitch--in on the hands. Now, you're seeing bats explode even when hitters get good wood on the ball.

The question is: what kind of wood? For many years, the predominant material for bats was ash. But once Barry Bonds started swatting homers in record numbers using a maple bat, lots of other players switched to maple, too. It's harder than ash, but harder can also mean more brittle. For the record: there's no proof that a harder maple bat adds anything to how far a guy can hit a ball. But try telling that to ballplayers, who will buy or do anything if they think it'll help.

The problem with the maple bats is not that they change the game itself. The problem is that they are dangerous as hell. At least one fan and one coach have been badly injured by bat shrapnel. Several pitchers have been hit (though so far, none have been seriously hurt). But it will certainly happen eventually.

Look, if baseball can make a big deal out of making on-field coaches wear batting helmets and stay within the lines of their coaching boxes because one guy was killed by a line drive (an incident regarded by almost everyone in the sport as freak occurrence), then it can damn well ban the maple bats to protect everyone at the ballpark.

Let's not wait for someone to be killed.

The Fans Are Idiots

Here we go again.

The first returns are in for baseball's All-Star Game (oops, sorry, that would be the Monster All-Star Game), and they prove once again why the fans should not be the ones choosing the All-Star starting lineups.

Sure, it's a seductive argument: "it's the fans' game, and they ought to choose". Except it really doesn't work out that way. What happens is that rabid fans in a couple of cities (can you say Boston and New York, kids?) dominate the process.

Right now, the American League results have 7 of the 9 slots in the batting order filled by Red Sox or Yankees. Somehow, Vladimir Guerrero and Ichiro Suzuki managed to sneak in (though neither is really having a great year), but keep an eye out for Yankees Bobby Abreu and Melky Cabrera, who lurk within striking distance.

It's another example of how baseball says it cares about the fans, but really only cares if you live in a big market. I can just hear the conversations at baseball's Park Avenue offices: "What? There's still a team in Kansas City?"

50 years ago, the Lords of Baseball faced an All-Star scandal: the good people of Cincinnati voted their Reds into every slot in the starting lineup except first base (apparently, they mistook Stan Musial's Cardinal red for their own guy). Commissioner Ford Frick stepped in and pulled two of the Fraud-legs from the lineup, subbing in Willie Mays and Hank Aaron.

And then, baseball took the vote away from the fans for the next dozen years. But then, in 1970, they gave it back. For a while, the sport tried to avoid another 1957 Reds mess by limiting the number of printed ballots distributed to each big-league city.

But then the Internet came along, rife with opportunities for ballot-stuffing. And here we are.

What can fans do? You can do what I do: claim the moral high ground by refusing to vote. Or you can go a step beyond that and join the millions who don't watch the All-Star Game on TV anymore.

Maybe then, the Lords of Baseball will get it right and let the players and managers (who know the game best) choose the All-Star lineups. But based on baseball's track record, I wouldn't bet on it.

Daniele Bennati and Me

Haven't heard of Daniele Bennati?

Don't worry. You're in concert with approximately 99.8% of the world's population.

I, on the other hand, am a big fan of Daniele Bennati. And why is that, you ask? Because we ride the same bike.

Well, OK, not exactly the same bike, but I have a damned fine replica of the Cannondale that Bennati and his Team Liquigas buddies ride on the pro cycling tour. And Bennati is having a fine Giro d'Italia, winning his 3rd stage today (more about the Giro on the KCBS/CycleTo.com La Dolce Giro podcast).

So while my shiny new carbon-fiber bike is, well, maybe just a bit over the top visually, right now it looks like a winner's bike. Just like all those baseball caps and basketball jerseys and college-logo T-shirts sports fans love to sport. Just look around. Lots of Kobe jerseys and Red Sox caps and USC T-shirts. Not so many people wearing the Zito jersey these days.

"Showing your colors" is part of being a fan. You either back the home team, or you pick another player or team to adopt. In the case of Daniele Bennati and me, it was sort of an arranged marriage (the bike shop just happened to have only one Cannondale Synapse in my size, and it was the Liquigas livery version).

But by golly, now I'm 100% behind those Liquigas boys. Forza Bennati!

Thanks, Peter

I just got the e-mail from Peter Magowan. No, we're not on each other's buddy list; I'm a Giants season-ticket holder and everyone got the same message.

Instead of hitting the "reply" button, I'm using this forum to say, "thanks".

It's been fashionable in some quarters to bash Magowan and Giants management for a) signing Barry Bonds, b) letting the team descend into mediocrity the last few years, or c) whatever else bugs you about the franchise.

But though the Giants never won it all under Magowan's stewardship, he (and the rest of the long list of minority partners) not only kept the team in San Francisco, they pretty much guaranteed its future in the Bay Area. Let's not forget: in 1993, there was a very good chance that this team was bound for Tampa Bay. Every attempt to get a new stadium to replace the clearly inadequate Candlestick Park had been rebuffed. Magowan and Company not only kept the team in SF, but they also penciled out a way to build that terrific ballpark.

And as part of the whole package, we got Barry Bonds. I am not here to defend Bonds' churlishness or to protest his innocence, but when the Giants acquired him, everything changed. The team became instantly respectable, and it's not too great a stretch to argue that Bonds' presence helped the organization work the numbers for the new ballpark.

Has Magowan made some mistakes? Sure. Most notably, he overpaid Bonds, costing the team the ability to hire a few other key pieces. He helped create the toxic atmosphere in which Bonds operated.

But Peter Magowan also saw the game from the fan's point of view. Sure, a way-richer, way-more-connected fan, but still, a fan. For that, Giants fans owe him their deepest thanks.

After all, we could have been commuting to Tampa.

Sharks: Will This Help?

So the Sharks have followed their latest second-round playoff exit by showing coach Ron Wilson the door.

The move obviously doesn't do anything for fans who thought this would be the year for the Sharks. We'll have to wait 12 months to see if it makes any difference in the only thing that really matters to an NHL team: its performance in the playoffs.

Wilson was reportedly startled by the decision (to say the least). He's a veteran coach who knows what it takes to win a Stanley Cup and has hinted broadly that the Sharks remain short of what's required. His boss, G.M. Doug Wilson, obviously thinks otherwise.

There's a tendency, I think, for people to generate unreasonable expectations for a team's playoff prospects based on its regular season numbers. But there's a reason NHL oldtimers call the playoffs "the second season". Everything changes (including, it often seems, the rules).

The question is whether the Sharks are really built for the second season. To be sure, it's a team full of exciting players, but the nagging question of whether all the pieces are there to dominate in the rarefied air of the playoffs lingers. That's on the G.M., not the coach.

One thing's for sure: if the Sharks don't go deeper into the playoffs next year, it won't be Ron Wilson's fault. It might be Doug Wilson's.