Three weeks ago Colin Kaepernick could have been the caddy for John Daly. I mean, NOBODY knew who this guy was outside of the Bay Area. Suddenly, he’s Joe Montana. No, wait, he can run. He’s Steve Young!
The Oakland A’s run into the postseason reminds us that it’s not always about a high payroll. Not always about luxury suites. Not always about what we don’t have, but rather what we do.
Sunday night’s game two ended with Detroit reliever Al Alburquerque snagging a comebacker, and kissing the baseball before throwing it to first base for the final out. The kiss was seen as a classless act by some A’s player.
When Giants outfielder Melky Cabrera was sent packing along with his supply of steroids, I had Marty Lurie on Gameday. He thought the Giants would have to do something to compensate for losing a bat in the line-up that produced a .346 batting average, testosterone or no.
One more note on replacement officials, and let this be a memo to management everywhere.
What a weekend. The Giants are in prime position to win the West, the A’s are the greatest story in baseball, and the 49ers marched into Lambeau Field and sent a stern message that THEY are the team to beat in the NFC.
Eleven walk-off wins will transform any big league clubhouse into a frat house. The only thing missing from the A’s clubhouse Sunday was the keg. At least I couldn’t spot one.
This was the supposed to be the official coming out party of the ready-for-prime-time A’s. Uh…not so ready.
The unexpected Kentucky Derby winner goes for the first Triple Crown since Affirmed in 1978.
What happened on the clay at Roland Garros was proof that you don’t have to wait until the hyperbole of a final to see a tennis match worthy of a classic.