Dear Tim Lincecum,
Not too long ago, we christened you as the second coming of Our Lord Jesus Christ. We even gave you an uber-creative nickname. It’s just that things were looking so good.
You remember those halcyon days, don’t you? After a month in the minors, you had a tidy 0.29 ERA, and after a 6-inning, 14-strikeout outing in Fresno, the brass decided that you couldn’t stay on the shelf any longer. A Russ Ortiz injury gave you a national spotlight to make your hyped debut and you impressed. You had a string of really, really good starts (even if the offense didn’t help you out), and after a strong seven-inning outing at Shea against the best team in the league, your ERA was down to 3.24. You were a lock for Rookie of the Year.
But then things started to fall apart. The starts have shortened and your control has waned, culminating in last night’s game, where the Brewers “scalded” you for six runs in two innings and 15 of your first 19 pitches were balls. In your last four starts, you have an ERA over 10. Which is not ideal.
Now you’re mired in a terrible summer on a terrible team with a circling steroid circus. We’re sorry.
Not to sounds egotistical, but it’s our fault, really. We should have started with lower expectations than Jesus, maybe Moses or Abraham. We could have come up with some comparisons about leading us to the chosen land or sacrificing something. Oh well.
But don’t worry; you’re young. You’ll figure it out. Maybe you need to skip a start, rejuvenate your spirits, talk to your dad or something. Pray in Gethsemane. Whatever.
Just keep the faith. We will.
And again: all apologies,
Say Hey (along the Bay Area media, believers and Giants fans everywhere)