M-A-T-T C-A-I-N

Hey East Coast media, how do you like them apples?

The Giants must be doing something right.  A World Championship in 2010, now their first perfect game, only the 22nd in Major League history.

But I have to say, as deserving as Cain is, I don't feel much for the Giants.  I greatly admired that 2010 team, but most of them are gone now.  Some were cut loose almost immediately - Cody Ross, the big gun of September, Edgar Renteria, who had that legendary called shot, Juan Uribe, Andres Torres.  Others are sidelined, perhaps permanently - Brian Wilson, Aubrey Huff, Freddie Sanchez.  The ace of that magical team, Lincecum, has lost his fastball and his confidence. 

It doesn't help that management seems determined to bury those  memories.  It's a colder, meaner organization now.  The Giants may or may not have engineered the departure of broadcaster Ralph Barbieri, who had as much as anyone to do with the building of the new park as anyone.  But they made sure the papers knew they didn't mind.  And they may or may not be behind the recent pathetic attempts to bring Barry Bonds - one of the worst human beings to ever play baseball - back into the public eye.  But they played along.

It is hubris gentlemen.  Your championship - your ONE championship - had nothing to do with Barry Bonds.  It had everything to do with a group of determined veterans - men you seem determined to discard and forget as quickly as possible - fighting for every base, every run, every out.  It had everything to do with a bunch of cocky kid pitchers who were out to prove something to the world.

While you were busy toasting Clubhouse Poison and bad-mouthing a broadcaster who loves San Francisco sports as much as anyone alive, one of those cocky kids - not really a kid anymore - threw the first perfect game in the history of your franchise tonight.

His name is Matt Cain.