It's no longer exactly breaking news that Randy Johnson won his 300th game yesterday. Such are the perils of living on the Coast—I'm asleep while half the country is having its coffee and reading the morning's headlines.
The warm, sunny days in January and February make that little snag easier to take.
As does the excitement of a mild little earthquake, but that's neither here nor there.
The point is I won't belabor the standard angle of the Big Unit's big day—it puts him in rare company and he's probably the last guy to join the club for a while. Possibly ever. Even casual baseball fans are, by now, aware Jamie Moyer is next in line with 250 and he's only notching the big three-double-zero if he's still tossing on his 50th birthday.
Not impossible, not even entirely unlikely at this point—still, you're gettin' long odds in Vegas on Jamie becoming the 300th Club's 25th member.
Instead of rehasing further, I'm working a different beat.
Peep how perfect these nine innings were for the moment and what it represented:
1. Minimal offense with wonderful pitching
For SF in 2009, it shouldn't have been any other way.
Don't let the final score of 5-1 fool you. This bad boy was a taut, two-run ballgame for the majority, with Johnson keeping a potent offense off the board in less-than-ideal conditions.
Then it became 2-1. On an unearned run, courtesy of an Edgar Renteria throwing error.
And then the Giants' bullpen loaded the bases with two-outs and Adam Dunn at the plate. For good measure, Closer Brian Wilson ran the count to its max—i.e., the Big Unit was one pitch from a no-decision.
We'll get to the specifics of what happened next a little later, but suffice it to say Wilson escaped. The SF offense added some insurance, and the rest is—literally—history.
2. Sparkling and Timely Defense.
Sounds odd having already mentioned Renteria's boner and the blemish it put on Randy's otherwise spotless slate, but those of you who saw SportsCenter, Baseball Tonight, or any other highlight show MUST have seen Emmanuel Burriss' absurd flash of leather (I recommend watching it full screen if you're hitting the link).
If that particular ridiculousness isn't the defensive play of the year—I mean ALL year—I beg you to send me its superior.
I'd love to see Manny make that flip 10 more times. And I'd be rocked if he could do it so flawlessly on five of 'em.
Not only was it scintillating athleticism and poise, it came with no outs and runners on first and second. If Burriss doesn't twist the laws of physics there, it's a 2-1 game with runners on the corners and still nobody down.
Sooooo, yeah, it qualifies as an important twin-killing.
Aaron Rowand also made a nice contribution, although that one's impressive more for the fact he didn't snap his wrist than anything else.
The old man even got in on the action—Randy wasn't content to sit back and let his defenders do all his work for him.
3. The Circle is Complete/Those Poor Washington Nationals.
In yet another sign from the cosmos, it made cruel sense the Nats would be Randy Johnson's 300th victim.
On the personal level, Randy Johnson started his career with the Nats, nee Montreal Expos. Waaaaay back in 1988, the 6'10" 24-year-old made his debut for les Expos and never lost in four starts. He registered his first three wins, and they would be the only three in a Montreal uniform.
Control issues cropped up in '89, along with four losses and off he went to Seattle, and Major League Baseball immortality.
On the team level, Giants fans will remember the name Mike Bacsik and a fateful night by the Bay against these same Nationals in August of 2007.
Baseball fans will probably only remember a number—756.
4. Johnson embodies speaking softly and carrying a big stick.
Any fan who persevered to hear Randy Johnson's interview can just skip this because you've already seen the concept in more eloquence than I can reproduce.
This is a guy who just joined a select group of professionals in his chosen career so elite he is one of only six southpaws in it. It's not often you can, as a lefty, say you've achieved a measure of greatness in The Show that Sandy Koufax did not.
But, there you go—Randy just did it.
There have been thousands of pitchers to toe the rubber in a Big League contest—23 had done it long enough and well enough, and had been lucky enough to get the help necessary to win at least 300 games.
Even fewer had done so with enough perspective to recognize that last little element—Lady Luck.
The Big Unit makes one more.
The man was so humble, so deferent, and so careful to pay his respects to every teammate he'd ever played with (by mentioning every franchise he was a part of). This on a night when everyone was gladly and shamelessly trying to make it all about Randy Johnson.
As they should've.
Still, Johnson was having none of it. What a refreshingly novel approach...
5. In That Spirit, Matt Cain is Incredible.
Think it was easy to follow up a game that will endure until it's considered part of antiquity? How enthusiastic do you think San Francisco was after celebrating the big feat? How focused on the next game?
Not to mention it was getaway day and pouring rain.
Meanwhile, I'm guessing the Nationals were pretty eager to unleash their splinters on the next poor sap.
And the Kid trotted out there with his usual calm demeanor.
He followed Randy with an encore performance to win his seventh game of the year (37th of his career, so he's sneaking up on the Big Unit). The righty twirled a six-inning complete game where he suffered seven baserunners (two walks, five hits), one earned run, and whiffed seven Washington batters.
Matt Cain made a pretty rough situation look like beers and La-Z-Boys. And he's still only 24.
Did I mention I'm a fan?
6. OK, OK, the Pitch from Brian Wilson to Adam Dunn.
Apparently, some in the MLB universe are pretty upset with the umpire who called a questionable 3-2 pitch from Wilson to the 7'10" Dunn a strike with the bases loaded.
They say you shouldn't call strikes just because a guy is going for No. 300. And they're probably right.
The pitch was certainly at the bottom of the strike zone, if in it at all. Since Dunn is so tall, there's a good chance it was a ball in a vacuum. Furthermore, it really didn't look like a strike based on the zone as had been established.
However...
What ever happened to the freakin' days when you SWUNG AT ANYTHING CLOSE with two strikes?
Adam Dunn is a power hitter. An RBI-man up with the bases drunk and one out left. Why in the name of Willie Mays is he taking that pitch? Hey, maybe it wasn't a perfect strike, but I promise you: Dunn could've driven that ball and it'd still be going.
In the eyes of most hitters and little kids in backyards everywhere, that IS a perfect pitch.
Another thing—what's the big deal if the ump helped Randy out?
In baseball, this type of record is not a matter of 'if' at this point. Barring injury, it's a matter of 'when' if you need one more W and it's May. Randy Johnson is not going to win 299 games and then lose 15 in a row.
Ain't gonna happen.
And what if he gets hurt? Would those complaining be satisfied if the ump called a ball, Randy got a ND, and then suffered a career-ending injury while stuck one shy of the Club?
So, it's not that guys like Rob Dibble are technically wrong. It's that they're ludicrously wrong in spirit.
Possibly jealous, to boot.
7. With all this in mind, it really was a perfect game.
I can't take complete credit for this closing observation.
Strange as it may seem to some of you, I've got to give a nod to Bip Roberts.
The Bipster nailed it when he pointed out how the game was a "culmination of [Randy's] entire career in one game" during the Giants' postgame show.
Although Roberts didn't nail the articulation quite as well—that's where I'll take the baton.
To start the game, the Big Unit was dominating. He set down the first 10 Nationals he faced in order, striking out two, and only allowing one ball to leave the infield—also the only fly ball he allowed.
The first blemish on the day was a walk, which he pitched through—appropriate.
The next sign of trouble was a hit. Johns˜on complicated matters with another walk, and then got some help from his teammates to escape the jam. Again, appropriate for a guy who could fan his way out of self-imposed danger early in his career and then became more reliant on good defense as he got older.
Then, as Roberts noted, the Big Unit became the Big Leader on his exit from the game. He stuck in the dugout to root his mates on, provide insight where he could, and support the fellas when it was needed.
Oh yeah, and Randy Johnson won.
As he had 299 times before.
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