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Nuthin' but a G thang

Special to Page 2


There are certain people for whom the door to The Water Cooler is always open.

Jason Giambi
In the immortal words of Jason Giambi: "To hit sexy, you've got to look sexy."
Pacino is free to drop by without a heads-up if he ever wants to discuss "Godfathers I or II," or "Dog Day Afternoon." I'd pull a cold cup of Sparkletts for Bill Murray, should he ever find himself in Fluorescent Neighborhood and in the mood to talk golf or ball. A fedora rests atop the Cooler with the thought that Sinatra, God rest his soul, has an eternal invite.

Jason Giambi, by the way, makes the short list, too.

Any guy who conducts serious interviews wearing a hat that reads "Drive It Like You Stole It" is welcome in my world. Any dude who wears a T-shirt that reads, "Rake Like an All-Star/Party Like a Rock Star/Hammer Like a Porn Star" has carte blanche to spike the drink at The Cooler. Any ballplayer whose purple Lamborghini Diablo calls Vegas home in the offseason? Bro, mi casa es su casa.

But the guy they call "G" won't stop by. That's OK. He's busy working his cell phone to "Big Sack," talking hitting and babes with the fifth-leading all-time home run basher. He's busy rolling that fresh ride through the nearest McDonald's drive-thru, picking up his breakfast of champions before another day of scalding. He's busy gelling the hair in between innings, because, as he so famously said as a rookie in '95, "to hit sexy, you've got to look sexy."

Giambi
Giambi turned on a Mike Stanton curveball and touched off a Kool-and-the-Gang-styled celebration in Oakland.
People, do not let this man's small-market home deprive you of enjoying one of baseball's most carefree superstars. If he played with the Babe in the '20s, he'd leave every postgame clubhouse wearing a fur coat, on his way to a speakeasy with some loaded dice. If he played with his idol, The Mick, in the '50s, he'd have worn out Mantle and Whitey Ford and seen more sunrises than the two combined. If he played with Reggie in the '70s, we'd have to reconsider who was the straw and what drink he was stirring.

All this is by way of saying: I was at the ballgame Sunday in Oaktown. I've been watching this guy all year. I swear to God, I don't think I've seen him have 10 bad at-bats this season. Mike Stanton wants to throw him a 3-2 curve to mess with his head? G answers by rounding the bags to a Kool-and-the-Gang-styled celebration at home plate. Touche, Bombers.

I don't know if the guy should be a Yankee next year. I don't know if he should take his SoCal born-and-bred act to Boston. All I know is, if A's ownership does not understand the enormous writing on the wall, they don't deserve this cat.

And all I also know is this: There's always a spot on The Cooler company softball team for a slugging first baseman.

One more thing, G: It's BYOB. Sorry, dude. Like your owners, we're on a budget.

With that, a move to the Weekend List of Five:

1. Barry turns 50
Barry Bonds
There aren't many 37-year-olds who can hit 'em like Barry Bonds.
Speaking of The Cooler's company softball team, we've got a few 37-year-olds. They're the guys in the knee braces, who show up 45 minutes early to start stretching, then pull a hammy turning hard on the one-bag after a bloop to center, anyway. They're the guys whose wives in the stands pretend not to see their horribly awkward barrel rolls into the two-bag, in a calamitous attempt to break up a deuce. It's hard to watch, baby.

So what's Barry Bonds? 37? Hmm. Let's see: The guy is ripped like a ticked-off Lou Ferrigno; the guy has bat speed that calls to mind a Borg backhand; and the guy sees pitches like every hurler in the National League is calling them out mid-windup. "Fastball, inside!" you can almost hear them yelling at the back of their windup. "All right, man, thanks!" you can almost hear Bonds yelling back as he strides to the pitch.

Bottom line: F.O.N. Freak of nature, this guy is, and making me feel bad for being the 33-year-old guy who tweaks his quad coming out of the box on The Cooler's company softball squad.

2. Drug testing in chess
No joke! God, the Internet is beautiful sometimes. You sign on, and you don't know what you get. Well, you know you're gonna get some porn (provided you're home alone); and you're gonna get some in-progress ball scores (a great feature of 2001 America); and you're gonna get some stock quotes (yeah, like you've got the dough to invest.)

You're also going to get the news that there will be drug testing in the sport of chess. This is so funny, I don't know where to start. Well, I do, actually. I start by recalling the greatest line on chess I ever read, and that was from the late, great Allan Malamud of the defunct L.A. Herald Examiner. During the Bobby Fischer-Boris Spassky chess duels, the 'Mud wrote a notes column that included the line: "Emotions are running so high at the Fischer-Spassky match, beer sales will be cut off after the seventh move." That's why the 'Mud was a legend, and why he had cameos in, among other films, "Raging Bull."

It's too funny. Can you see these chess guys, in between moves, ducking under the table for a binger off the bong shaped like a knight? Or scoring a dime bag before the big match, then demolishing a box of Oreos while sitting in those big gyms, spewing crumbs all over the board then barely stifling a giggle whenever their opponent says "Check"?

Bottom line: If chess needs drug testing, then I need more chess.

3. Twins-Rays
John Flaherty
John Flaherty, with helmet, and the Devils Rays have taken three straight from the Twinkies.
And to think, we wanted so much for Minnesota to be the story. But you lose three straight to Tampa Bay? You're done, Chief. Seriously. Hand in your cleats and your jock to the equipment manager. Bring your playbook to Tom Kelly. It's over. This is the equivalent of losing a chess match to a guy who is baked.

If you'll recall, The Cooler embraced the Twins back in April. If you'll recall, and here is where we remind you of our brilliance, The Cooler said that with their rotation, the Twins would stay on the radar until August. Well, boys. It's August. Get off the friggin' radar.

4. A brief pause for the Cubs
I dig the Cubs. Really. Matt Stairs? Great guy. Sammy? Who can't get behind the guy?

Kyle Farnsworth
The Murph would like to retract any negative comments about Cubs reliever Kyle Farnsworth.
But I must confess, I owe an apology to that reliever, Kyle Farnsworth. The guy who puts the "bull" into bullpen. This dude is an ox. Biggest, strongest-looking cat I've ever seen. Throws, like, 200 mph.

But back in May, at Pacific Bell Park, on a misty Friday night that did not go the home nine's way, I was part of a crew down the right field line that was all over Farnsworth in the bullpen. He went after some drunk college kids in the front row, and I may or may not have participated in a taunting serenade of Farnsworth for, oh, about 15 minutes. It's all a batch of allegations, and my lawyer will get back to you.

But I've gotten a better look at this guy. In no way, shape or form do I want this guy mad at me. He's huge. He'd tear my damn head off. So, Kyle, baby, Salute! I'll buy you a beer at The Lodge next time in town.

5. NFL preseason action, Week 2
I'm still not watching, boys.

Come September, though? Giambi and Dennis Miller are welcome any day.

Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes the "Monday Morning Water Cooler" every week for Page 2.

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