I’ve been asking everyone I run into what they make of Bob Melvin’s leaving and Jonathan Kuminga’s staying. The overwhelming response is “Who dat, mon?”
I guess I can understand that, seeing as I’m in Belize, where the only Giants are tarantulas, Posey is a flower, and Kuminga, I hear, is a side dish that normally accompanies conch fritters.
I did manage to listen to the Buster Posey press conference Wednesday and it was an absolutely masterful performance of answering every question and saying absolutely nothing. I have no doubt that when the cadre of the best baseball writers in the Bay Area went back to their computers to spin a yarn of hope for Bay Area fans, the only note they had worth quoting was “Posey: Really neat haircut.”
The fact is, Buster was as honest as he knows how to be. Every answer these days begins with the word “If.” Even the erudite Andy Baggarly, who eloquently phrased a question about what character traits Posey was looking for in his managerial search, was promptly quieted by Buster, who equally eloquent said, “I’m not going to answer that question right now.”
The bottom line is, there were more question marks in that room than there were reporter’s notebooks. Everything that everyone has asked about is as up in the air now as it was when they cleared out the locker room on Monday morning.
I really like Buster Posey. I also hear great things about Zack Minasian. I particularly like Bob Melvin. Heck, this whole organization is an assemblage of good guys. Quite frankly, I feel terrible in saying this, but the Los Angeles Dodgers are also an aggregation of good guys. The gaping chasm here is that the Dodgers’ good guys seem to be better baseball players than the Giants’ good guys.
Melvin, I think, is a victim of what we talked about in this yarn last week. He’s OK, his team was OK, and OK finishes a distant second (or in this case, fourth) to “Really Good.”
I frankly think that Melvin, in some ways, became the fall guy for his hand-selected staff who, like their players, underachieved in key moments.
Ryan Christianson — the bench coach, and Melvin’s in-game eyes — one of his chores was making sure the defense was positioned correctly. All too many times, it wasn’t. There was more “I got it, you take it” calls in the outfield than I’ve seen since coaching in the Ross Valley Little League.
I have been friends with and respected Matt Williams since his playing days. As a player he was tough, powerful, and professional. The great Willie Mays once told me that he could never be a coach because he would expect his players to be able to do the things that he did. And that wasn’t possible. I can’t help but wonder if there was a bit of that with Matt Williams? He sent guys when he shouldn’t have and held up guys when they might have scored. The end result — sloppy base running.
Pat Burrell was someone who became a good guy after a few years of “not so much.” He could always hit and, I thought, was a good selection as hitting coach. What I don’t know is, do you want your hitting coach to fix glitches in a batter’s swing? Or do you want him to game plan for a given pitcher? The fact is, both failed this year. Simply said, Giants’ hitters should have been better.
I think that J.D. Martinez did as good a job as possible with a pitching staff that suffered through too many injuries, culminating with total depletion.
Melvin took the fall, but he had plenty of guys who pushed him.
The Kuminga conundrum
All right, all right, here — take a couple million dollars a month for two years. You should be able to squeak by. And we’ll find a way to dump you sometime before the start of year two.
Say hello to Jonathan Kuminga — still a Golden State Warrior.
I frankly was so tired of talking about the trials and tribulations of the one-time “future” of the Golden State Warriors, that I contemplated taking knitting classes just so I didn’t have to read the paper.
In the end, the good news was “we got him.” And the bad news was, “we got him.”
I’m taking a very strong guess here that Jonathan Kuminga would be wise to just rent this year. I have little doubt that in the mind of Steve Kerr and the Warrior brass — and very likely his teammates, too — the sooner the Warriors can get even a semi-live body to replace him, Kuminga will be lighting up scoreboards for some team that will get no better with him.
Here is the rub — like it or not. Jonathan Kuminga can shoot the basketball. I have little doubt that once moved he will be amongst the league leaders in scoring. What Jonathan Kuminga doesn’t understand is what it takes to be an NBA player a coach wants to have on his team.
The fact is, everybody playing in the NBA can shoot. It’s a given. You don’t get here if you can’t at least put the ball in the hole. Steve Kerr’s idea of an NBA player does not include Jonathan Kuminga. He wants basketball players — not just shooters. And in his time here, Kuminga has never learned how to be the former.
I think the W’s are going to be pretty darn good this year. From the top of the roster to the bottom (Kuminga aside), they know how to play. Moreover, they know how to play Steve Kerr’s game.
I’m going to guess Kuminga will still be somewhat invisible on the floor ’til the eventual parting, and that might not help his value to others.
There’s an old horse race cliche that has some meaning in this case. “Horses for courses.” And Jonathan Kuminga just ain’t the horse for this course.
His legacy will be what everyone here in Belize says: “Who?”
Barry Tompkins is a 40-year network television sportscaster and a San Francisco native. Email him at barrytompkins1@gmail.com.