By Art Spander
GLENDALE, Ariz. –- It was baseball with a history, out here in the suburbs of Phoenix, Giants vs. Dodgers. An exhibition, but for Tim Lincecum, seeking reassurance, more like an exhibit, of himself.
He had to show us, show baseball, that he wouldn’t be the same as last year.
Tim had been the man for the Giants, two Cy Young Awards, a World Series win. Then things went haywire in 2012, until the postseason when, as a reliever, he came through. Still, he had to be a starter, not a reliever, not at $20 million per.
Giants against Dodgers, Lincecum against his fears. His first start of spring training on Tuesday. More acutely, the first time he would face live batters, even in practice. A rainout prevented even that bit of normal preparation.
He was waiting. Giants Nation was waiting.
Lincecum threw 38 pitches in 1 1/3 innings, as stiff a workout as allowed in his situation. Though he would be charged with three runs in a game that would end tied, 8-8, after San Francisco got consecutive two-run homers in the ninth from Brock Bond and Brett Pill, Timmy was not at all displeased.
On the contrary. The doubts have fled.
No worries about mechanics. No thoughts about what had been, only what is.
“It wasn’t a question of whether I was going to throw strikes,” said Lincecum, who at times last season could not. “It was a question of how I was going to throw those strikes. I didn’t feel out of whack.”
Camelback Ranch, the complex that serves as home for the Dodgers — “Whole new team. Whole new 'Tude” — and Chicago White Sox, has a beautiful stadium of rust-colored steel that blends perfectly with the desert. It seemed a proper place for a renaissance, if only partly filled — attendance, 5,019, and of that total numerous Giants fans.
The afternoon began long before the first pitch with a recording over the public address system of the Eagles’ “Hotel California,” hardly inappropriate with the state’s two National League powers about to face each other. Then, came one of the Giants’ AT&T Park anthems, Journey and “Don’t Stop Believing.”
Which, through his season of 2012, when Lincecum was 10-15 with a 5.18 earned run average, he never did. He had lost too much weight, which observers said led to him losing his fastball and all those games.
For 2013, he gained pounds and trimmed his shoulder-length locks. Hard to know if the hair style had any effect, but Lincecum was effective.
“I missed only a couple pitches high,” said Lincecum. “I was thinking about a spot and hitting it, My timing was good.”
He will be 29 in June, an age when a pitcher should be at his best, still youthfully strong but also well experienced. His No. 1 place in the rotation has been ceded, unintentionally, to Matt Cain, who emphasized his brilliance with a perfect game. Add Madison Bumgarner, Ryan Vogelsong and the comeback of Barry Zito, and Lincecum may have to battle for a start.
Unless he’s back to 2008 or 2009, and those Cys.
“It was really good to have the atmosphere of being in a game again,” said Lincecum. “It was nice to face hitters again. I was kind of locked in. Other than the slider to (Jeremy) Moore (resulting in a two-run double in the second, Lincecum’s last pitch) I wasn’t too bad.”
For manager Bruce Bochy, still laughing about playing a second straight tie — it was 9-9 against the White Sox at Scottsdale on Monday — “wasn’t too bad” is an understatement. Bochy was more than satisfied.
“I thought Timmy did real well,” said Bochy. “He had good rhythm with his pitches and threw strikes. He looked very comfortable, and I thought he had good stuff.”
A former catcher, Bochy offers a keen eye on pitching, one of the reasons the Giants’ staff has been so strong — and one of the reasons San Francisco has won the World Series twice the last three years. He and general manager Brian Sabean fully understand that pitching dominates a game.
“What I saw,” Bochy said of Lincecum’s performance, “was a consistent delivery and good rhythm. Last year, he got out of sync. He knows it. He fought hard to get it back.”
Last year, with fans and teammates watching nervously and expecting the worst, which too often came, Lincecum would do well for three or four, or maybe five, innings, and then, bam. A walk, a double, a single, another double. So quickly it would come apart, and there would come Bochy taking the ball to hand to a reliever.
“Today was different,” said Bochy. “He looked very consistent.”
What the manager nearly said, but did not, was that Tim Lincecum looked very much as we expected Tim Lincecum to look: a great pitcher.