I mentioned in the post on Brian Wilson's far better performance when he had regular work that there are several different types of saves.  I listed five types, with the toughest one being when a pitcher entered the game with runners on second and third )or with the bases loaded) and no outs -- in a one-run game.

Now I see that Bill James has a name for such saves (although he limited his to bases loaded, not runners only on second and third).  He calls such saves Extreme Houdini saves.

One of the points I made in my previous post was that two- and especially three-run saves were easy saves that any decent pitcher should achieve a high percentage of the time.  But the Houdini saves are darn tough.

How tough?  So tough that there have been only eight Extreme Houdini saves since 1974 -- and none since 2000.

I think most relief pitchers in general and closers in particular would benefit from more regular work.  Wilson appears to be a prime candidate.  I think baseball is ripe for a re-examination of how closers are used.

If the Giants had used Brian Wilson on a strict schedule of no more than two days in a row and no more than two days between appearances, he would have missed out on only two of his 47 save opportunities last season.  That doesn't seem like much of a sacrifice to make, given that his ERA when used regularly was several runs lower than when he wasn't.

Let's see closers making more tough saves (and perhaps even the occasional Extreme Houdini) and fewer two- and especially three-run saves.  Sometimes the time when a true Houdini is needed is in an earlier inning -- when the bases might be loaded with no outs or one out.  Why not use the closer in such critical situations?

If the fire isn't doused in that particular situation, there most likely won't be a game for the closer to save later.  Saves are important.  Team wins are even more so.

Harry Houdini was at his best when his tricks were tough.  He proved his stuff by making escapes on one else could make -- not by making the routine ones.

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It

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The first-ever gathering of the McCovey Chronicles brethren and sisteren at the appropriately titled McCovey Chronicles' Restaurant at McCovey's Cove East was a rousing success -- at least for me.  What great people and great Giants fans I was permitted to meet.

After the event, appropriately capped by a Giant win after inappropriately being temporarily thrown off track by yet another Giants arsonist, I was able to spend time conversing with DeLorean and his wife, girlfriend, could I marry her if you ever get tired of her?

And naturally we talked about ... cars.  Turns out this lovely thing drives the exact same car I do.  Mazda.  MX 5 (aka Miata).  Charcoal. Black top.  I thought about telling DeLorean that he could just HAVE my car, and I would drive home with HER.

But I didn't, since I had spent the lovely evening sitting next to the delicious (offered me dessert -- no, not THAT kind, you lecherous thing, you), delightful, charming and talented Baron, sexily adorned in her finest McCovey Chronicles T-shirt.  Well, yeah, she was wearing pants, too.

Oh, and I brought my friend Jim, the only guy I know who looks as goofy as I.  He had never met ANYONE like the McCoven.  But then, neither had I.

So as I walked to my car, cursing myself for choosing it over DeLorean's prized possession, I ran into none other than Toothpick, so nicknamed by none other than Willie McCovey himself.  Toothpick, who was one of the two nice people who greeted us at the front door and helped us figure out why there was no reservation under the obvious name, "McCovey Chronicles" and under what name the actual reservation -- I was beginning to have some -- was made.

And Toothpick had the most wonderful suggestion for our next gathering, the one after they add "Chronicles" to the restaurant's name.  Hopefully that gathering will be soon and become maybe a twice-a-season-or-so event, perhaps even with a hot stove league session.  Toothpick suggested that we call ahead and ask if they would reserve the "McCovey Room" for us -- the one in the back where Willie himself eats when he visits, the one with the mementos under glass, right under your place mat.  The private room with the two TV's!  The one where we can scream our celebration of the inevitable Giants win without causing heart attacks among the startled patrons.

Toothpick said the McCovey Room has a two-hour limit, but that when we tell them that we ARE The McCovey Chronicles, they might be willing to waive it -- presumably if we promise them a Giants win!

Anyway, I just wanted to thank all involved for a WONDERFUL time.  It was really cool to meet all you fabulous people and CRAZY-mad fans.

Oh, I wanted to tell Baron and she and I would make a strange and wonderful couple, since I'm strange and she's wonderful.

And DeLorean, if you ever need help ...

And, no, Jim and I are not gay.

I'm sure our posters noticed the new keystone combination employed -- and, yes, even played -- by the Giants last night. They may even have noticed that Dave Roberts was playing left field and batting third, cleverly disguised as Freddie Lewis.

They probably noticed that after the trade deadline Jose Castillo was no longer playing second base and that Omar Vizquel and Rich Aurilia weren't starting, period.

But in last night's second inning, did they notice the name change made by the Giants' first baseman -- you know, that good-looking young man with the crew cut who keeps hitting line drives that hang up for the outfielders to catch?

Yes, in the second inning of last night's game, in the court of public opinion, that first baseman changed his name to John Balker.

Before there were closers, there were firemen.  Of course there were -- and remain -- arsonists such as Tyler Walker and Jack Taschner, but that is why firemen are needed.

So what is the difference between a closer and a fireman?  The closer pitches the final inning, hopefully mopping up the affair in a positive manner.  The fireman comes in when things are dangerous, puts out the fire, and keeps the game safe until it is over.

Obviously the Giants chose to use Brian Wilson as the closer in Tim Lincecum's last two starts -- but since he was going to come in after arsonists Walker a week ago and Taschner last night, he didn't get the chance.

The answer, of course, is that Brian should have been used as a fireman, entering the game in the eighth inning when things could get hot, and finished out the game.  Would he have a league-leading 29 saves if he were used in this manner?  Probably not.  Would he have made a bigger contribution to Giants' wins? Almost certainly.

The save rule has distorted how a team's best relievers are used.  The object of the game has been perniciously distorted.  Back in the days of the fireman, the object was to win the game.  Now the object seems to be to get the closer as many saves as possible.

So the closer is used for the ninth inning -- even if the difference is three runs.  Teams score three runs or more only once in 16 innings.  Does it make more sense to bring in your best pitcher into a situation in which the average pitcher will still allow your team to win more than 15 out of 16 times?

Or would it make more sense to bring in that great reliever into a one-run game when the opponents have the bases loaded with no one out and their cleanup hitter at the plate?  Even if the game is an inning that is earlier than the ninth?

Should a team's best reliever be brought in only in one-inning save situations and in some games just to keep him from getting rusty since there haven't been any save situations?  Or would it be better to bring him in earlier in a game, when the situation is the most dangerous but when he might have to pitch more than an inning to earn the save?

In other words, would it be better to use a combination of arsonists and a closer to hope to win a game -- or would it be better to use a fireman to put the fire out, or possibly even preventing the fire from developing, say to begin the eighth inning of a one-run game?

As Yogi the Berra always says, only you can prevent baseball fires.

I have a question to pose.  This season the two top Giants everyday rookies, John Bowker and Freddie Lewis, have hit .274 and .273, respectively.  Lewis' career average is .283, while since all Bowker's at bats are this season, his is the same .274 as his season's average.

So my question is this:  Which player is more likely to maintain or improve his seasonal batting average, and why?

I have done some research on the matter and have some ideas, but before I get into them, I'm curious as to what others think -- and their reasons for doing so.

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Entering this season many Giants fans looked at Tim Lincecum and Matt Cain as Twin Towers of Twirling.  They figured both were potential aces, All-Stars and even Hall of Famers.

Suddenly Lincecum has emerged as the potential hardware bearer, while Cain has struggled to get the lead out.  Matt uncharacteristically gave up nine earned runs in one start.  Tim has given up nine earned runs total in eight starts.

Why the sudden split in direction by the two 23-year-olds?

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