Say Hey Tuesday: That Time Matt Cain Pretended He Was Affeldt

Part two of our introductory post for Say Hey Tuesday! If you can’t remember part one, you can find it here. This will be a pretty short post, as it’s just Matt Cain pretending to be hilarious and Affeldty to Posey after a game. Cainer’s adorable, awkward play jabs seem to amuse him a great deal, and really, how can you not love Posey’s stomach “punch”.




*gif by triplesalley

That Time Buster Posey Punched Jeremy Affeldt

For the past few days, I’ve had a tab open in Chrome to my Tumblr account and I’ve been clicking through it at random times, chuckling at things I had forgotten about and rediscovering little internet gems. After finding one particularly hilarious post, I decided to start Say Hey Tuesdays, where I’ll revisit a random Giants moment that maybe we’ve forgotten about and deserves to NEVER BE FORGOTTEN.

The inaugural moment is actually in two parts. Hey, it’s not every day you decide to launch a new blog feature! This is a special occasion. Plus, it gives me two posts at once so I feel SUPER good about this project. Besides, this is a REALLY great moment and the individual parts of it are huge and amazing on their own.

Today’s moment took place after the Giants clenched the NL West. The boys were understandably excited. Limbs were flailing, bodies were bouncing, and people were hitting the ground one after another. Jeremy Affeldt, either overwhelmed with happiness or a deep, deep desire to get Buster before Buster got him, decided that the celebratory bounce huddle was the perfect opportunity to jackhammer a few jabs into Posey’s ribs.


What makes this moment great is that Posey immediately whips around, yells some choice words at Affeldt, and then flings an ineffectual jab in his direction before going back to the celebration. But Posey wasn’t done yet. Ineffectual punches are definitely NOT his thing. He ain’t havin’ it. As evidenced below.


Seriously. Judging by Affedlt’s reaction, Posey didn’t hold back on that punch.  I’ve heard that you’d better think twice about messing with Posey. He knows where your nuts are and how to punch them. Hard.

That’s it for the very first Say Hey Tuesdays post! Let’s see if we can make this a regular thing.

*Gifs from this mccoveychron post

A collection of things

Things Franny Hates



Being alone

Not getting the food she wants

Fireworks, gunshots, loud noises

Screaming children

Things Franny Loves

Our pillows

Our blankets

Our everythings





Real lady talk

Gonna bust out some lady talk here, so if candid lady talk is too much for you, then skip down to the next section. So if you go for 3 years without having a period and then you suddenly start having them again, IT REALLY SUCKS. Like, my back was cranky this morning and I couldn’t figure out why and then BAM! Someone starts stabbing my uterus with an hor d’ouevres fork.

Please send chocolate and ibuprofin to my mouth, STAT.

Baseball Things

So exactly how ridiculous is Bryce Harper? There is not a human scale in existence for how ridiculous he is. Nine homers in the first what, 23 games? You know who else is ridiculous? Anyone who is a starting pitcher for the Dodgers. Nine seems to be the magic number this season because guess how many SPs the Dodgers have had in 23 games? Nine! Oh, Dodgers. We feel you.

How'd this get here?

How’d this get here?

Speaking of starting rotations, the Giants have been pretty unlucky with their pitching staff this season. The most consistent person has been Madison Bumgarner, followed closely by Zito and Lincecum (in my opinion). Matt Cain hasn’t been awful but the outcomes of his games make that hard to believe. Last night in San Diego, Tim Lincecum battled through a second quality start, going into the seventh and retiring 9. NINE. It’s the number of 2013.


*None of these gifs were made by me!

What’s the what

It’s 9:15pm on a Tuesday night and I’m sitting in our living room with the dog, watching Game 4 of the World Series. The game is tied and Dotel just walked Scutaro with four pitches. I sat down in time to see Buster Posey’s glorious, by the skin of its teeth homerun to tie it up. It’s fun watching him round the bases, finger in the air as the ball sails into the seats. Posey rarely shows emotion on the field and to see him triumphant and satisfied as he rounds first feels like the completion of his recovery.

Baseball starts in less than a week. A very small part of me is afraid that the start date is all a big joke by the MLB and we’ll all be expectant on Monday morning, but there will be no baseball. MLB will tweet “#AprilFoolsSuckas” and there will be a revolt.

Erm…what was I saying? Ah, yes. The start of the season. The start of the season! Real baseball in all its proper places! AT&T Park, garlic fries, McCovey Cove, sunsets, motherfriggin’ seagulls, the smells and sounds and how loud the ‘MVP! MVP! MVP!’ chants will be the first time Posey steps to the plate and and and and aaannnndddddd



You don’t have to be a fan of baseball to know that baseball players, and in turn their fans, are incredibly superstitious. We’re right along there with hockey, in that respect. Now that the World Series is over, I thought I’d share some of my superstitions this postseason!

I wore the same shirt, pants, and bra during the last 7 games of the postseason. I wore the same jeans during the day, if I was at work or if I had to run errands on the weekend, and changed as soon as I got home (sometimes running into the apartment at 5:50pm screaming GAME CLOTHES GAME CLOTHES GAME CLOTHES GAME CLOTHES). I stopped wearing Giants clothes of any kind after Game 2 of the NLDS, and stopped wearing my Giants hats after Game 1 of the NLCS.

Probably the most serious undertaking this postseason, and it started during the NLDS. During Game 1, we opened a magnum bottle of Barefoot merlot, and we scored 4 runs in one inning. We didn’t drink it during Game 2. We drank it during Game 3. And 4. And 5. We drank A LOT of wine this postseason, so Giants, my liver thanks you for taking down Detroit in four games. We never bought the wine ahead of time, but instead bought it on an as-needed basis. We averaged around two games per bottle, unless one game was extra stressful. We plan to do something epic with these bottles eventually because this much consumption of wine that ended with a World Series title deserves to be memorialized.



Rally hair
No shaving. Guess what the first thing was I did after the Giants won last night?

I had to sit on the floor, in front of the couch. I moved to the other side of the coffee table on Saturday, when BFF’s mom came over to watch the game. She sat on the couch, directly behind my regular spot on the floor, so the space was still appropriately occupied.

Panda Pillow Pet
Panda Pillow Pet was with me from the middle of the NLCS until the final out last night. I cycled between tossing him in the air and hiding my face behind him during all of the games. When things unraveled last night, I had no idea what to do with PPP, so he just sat next to me and didn’t complain when I squeezed him during one of my 8,000 freak outs.

Panda Pillow Pet!

I participated in the #Rally hash tags, changed my Twitter and Facebook pictures to correspond to each starting pitcher, and tweeted the same message around 15-20 minutes before the first pitch (Play hard, work hard, and HAVE FUN!!! #RallyWhatever #SFGiants). Shout out to all my new Twitter friends! That was one hell of a ride; have a fantastic winter! If you’d like to follow me, just click here.

Like I mentioned in my previous post, we had chicken enchiladas before Vogelsong’s NLCS start and again before his WS start. Seemed to do the trick and seriously, who doesn’t love enchiladas?

I knocked on a lot of wood this month. I even knocked on a tree trunk Saturday when someone told me the Giants would sweep Detroit. BFF and I routinely put our fingers in our ears and LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU every time someone started mentioning statistics on TV. That’s something I’ve had since the regular season. I don’t want to see records or statistics. I firmly believe it’s detrimental.

We both refused to say anything like “if we win” or “when we win”. It was always “in case something good happens”. And that was always followed by knocking on wood. I’m telling you guys, we’re some superstitious mother effers. It seemed to work, so be sure we’ll be doing a lot of this next season, too!

Stay tuned for my next post in which I talk incoherently about our players and probably post a lot of pictures that I didn’t take.

That’s what’s up

Now that the 2012 season is over, I’m breaking my post season silence.

The San Francisco are the 2012 World Series Champions.

Holy crap, y’all.

I don’t even know where to begin this blog. My brain is full of so many emotions right now that I’m finding it difficult to sort through them all. I wanted to post after the NLDS. After the NLCS. Especially after the NLCS. Oh, friends. So many words to say.


The post season made me nervous. I thought about the Diamondbacks last year and how they lost the NLDS. I thought about how I wasn’t ready for the Giants season to be over. I thought about a great many things, and then I did a lot of worrying. Like, massive amounts of it. After two dismal games at home, the boys flew to Cincinnati, where I was sure our asses would get handed to us in the third game. I didn’t want to be discouraged, but it was hard not to be. I remember @gggiants tweeting that we shouldn’t give up. I decided to hang my hat on his tweet.

Then Game 3 happened. The stories came out about Hunter Pence’s pre-game speech, about the passion he displayed when he expressed that he wasn’t ready to stop playing yet. That he wanted one more day with the best team he’s ever played with. We won that game. And the next one. And the next one.

It doesn’t get much better than that, right? Coming back from a 2-0 deficit to clinch the LDS?


I assumed our momentum would take us strong into this series against the Cards. I assumed the scare in Cincinnati would be motivation enough for us to not get our backs against a wall again. Clearly the Giants like to prove me wrong. At this point the post season, we were becoming more superstitious. Despite being a big user of social media, I resisted the #RallyZito movement when it began circulating on Twitter the night after Lincecum’s rough outing in St. Louis. I’ve really come to respect and enjoy Barry Zito this season but #RallyZito? Really? He’s not even on Twitter.

But then…I went for it. Updated Twitter and Facebook with the same picture of Zito. Tweeted with the hash tag. I think most Giants fans will agree that Game 5 of the NLCS was the changing tide for the team. Zito’s performance topped with Lincecum’s uneffingbelievable performance seemed to ignite something in the team. It got out on Twitter after the game that Ryan Vogelsong eats chicken enchiladas the night before each start. And #RallyEnchiladas was born.

Funny story about that: I had planned, on Friday night (Zito’s game), that I was going to make chicken enchiladas. Because of the time difference, the game started right as I was getting off work and instead of taking all the time to go buy ingredients for enchiladas, I opted to go straight home and watch the game. We’d have enchiladas on Saturday night, for the game, if there was going to be one. I know, right? Scary awesome coincidence.

The final game of the NLCS is one of my favorite games of baseball I’ve seen. Between the unreal rain, the rainbows, the amazing plays on defense by the Giants, and then that final moment in the 9th inning when Marco Scutaro opened his arms, tilted his head back, looked toward the sky, and welcomed the deluge. I cannot think of a more perfect sports moment than that. It was like something out of a movie. Unreal. Unreal.

World Series

This is my first full year of being a Giants fan. First full where I went from the end of the last season to the final out of the next season, following everything I could about the team. Contract signings, trades, spring training, first pitch to final out. I can’t sum this feeling up accurately. Not right now. Not while I have a thousand things to think about and say and read and watch and rewatch.

But I want to say this about this team: you can’t buy this kind of chemistry. You can’t buy this kind of connection, this kind of bond. These guys love each other. You can tell by how they interact with one another, how they hug one another. How gently they cradle a weeping Sergio Romo in their arms, his face pressed to their shoulders. This team is my team. My very first, absolute favorite Giants team. I’ve been told every fan has one. That one team that you love, from beginning to end. And this team is it. The 2012 San Francisco Giants.

World Series Champions.