Here are the lineups for Game 5 of the Cardinals-Giants series in San Francisco:

Cardinals:
3B Matt Carpenter
CF Jon Jay
LF Matt Holliday
SS Jhonny Peralta
1B Matt Adams
RF Randal Grichuk
2B Kolten Wong
C Tony Cruz
SP Adam Wainwright

With a left-hander on the mound Cardinals manager Mike Matheny has made some changes. Jhonny Peralta and Matt Adams flip-flop in the 4-5 spots, Randal Grichuk bats sixth while Jon Jay stays second, and Tony Cruz is behind the plate instead of A.J. Pierzynski.

Giants:
CF Gregor Blanco
2B Joe Panik
C Buster Posey
3B Pablo Sandoval
RF Hunter Pence
1B Brandon Belt
LF Travis Ishikawa
SS Brandon Crawford
SP Madison Bumgarner

Standard lineup for Giants manager Bruce Bochy, who sticks with Travis Ishikawa in left field over Michael Morse and keeps shortstop Brandon Crawford in the eighth spot. Madison Bumgarner, who shut out the Cardinals for 7.2 innings in Game 1, has a 2.58 ERA in 59 career postseason innings.

Travis Ishikawa's journey started with the Giants 12 years ago when he was selected in the 21st round of the 2002 Draft. After making his Major League debut with the team in 2006, something that only 7 percent of all players drafted in the 21st round or later do, Ishikawa went on to do something even rarer: win a World Series ring. In the Giants' 2010 series against the Rangers, the first baseman collected an RBI double.

Since then, the first baseman has bounced around, spending time with Milwaukee, Baltimore and New York with stops in Nashville, Norfolk, and Charlotte along the way.

This spring, Ishikawa broke camp with the Pirates before being released 34 at-bats later, even contemplating quitting baseball altogether.


Not only was this Ishikawa's first postseason home run, but it was the first walk-off home run of his career, too. Although it was nearly a walk-off single since people kept getting in his way

"Matheny, when asked about not using closer T. Rosenthal in 9th: "We can't bring him in, in a tie-game situation. We're on the road.”

The save stat dictated what the manager of a team facing elimination did with his bullpen. That’s just . . . amazing.

A list of Giants mascot's

Lou Seal

The Crazy Crab

Steve Perry.

Possibly the happiest man in the Giants clubhouse last night? Tim Hudson.

Hudson, 39, is likely on the last contract of his career (he's signed through next season). He made a comment to that end at this years All Star Game "yeah, I'm a little long in the tooth. You start to think when you do things it might be the last time you do them."

And yet, after all he's done in his career, he's never been to a World Series until now.

The active leader in wins with 214, Hudson has been to the playoffs seven different times. Each time before this season, his team was bounced from the Division Series round. Last season, he was injured but would have gotten a ring had the Braves made a run, but they were also taken down in the Division Series round.

But now, a healthy Hudson is going to start a World Series game. It's a start 16 years in the making. Good for Hudson, one of the game's good guys and, at this point, probably underappreciated starting pitchers.

As this writer suggests, maybe it is time to crown a new Mr. October.

There's been a lot of talk about how the San Francisco Giants are lucky. About how this latest October run is fueled less by talent and more by favorable bounces and inexplicable even-year mojo.

The counterargument: Buster Posey.

Lost amid the din of San Francisco's at-times wacky playoff success has been another steadily stellar performance by its catcher and undisputed anchor. After going 2-for-3 with three RBI in the Giants' 6-4 win over the St. Louis Cardinals in Game 4 of the National League Championship Series, Posey is now hitting .333 in the 2014 postseason.

And he's caught every frame, including the 18-inning marathon in Game 2 of the National League Division Series against the Washington Nationals.

Partly, Posey gets overlooked because of his low-key demeanor. In a clubhouse full of characters—the roly-poly Pablo "Kung Fu Panda" Sandoval, the twitchy, F-bomb-dropping preacher Hunter Pence—Posey defines unassuming.

As Scott Ostler of the San Francisco Chronicle put it:

“The weirdest thing about Buster Posey might be that on a team with a significant weirdness factor, the steadiest player, offensive driving force and quiet leader is devoid of weird...Posey goes about his hero business quietly, leaving a smaller wake than any of the other big boats.

”And yet the 27-year-old, selected fifth overall by the Giants in 2008, has steered himself and his team to a remarkable run of success.

Since his rookie season in 2010, all Posey has done is win a Rookie of the Year Award, an NL MVP, a batting title and two rings. Throw in a horrific season-ending ankle injury in 2011, and you've got a career's worth of highs and lows packed into a scant five seasons.

Well, almost five. This season's not quite finished. With the Giants now a win away from their third Fall Classic appearance in five years, Posey has a chance to pad his resume—and solidify his status as baseball's new Mr. October.

Comparisons to a certain New York Yankees shortstop have been around at least since early 2013, when GQ branded Posey "the Derek Jeter of the Bay Area."

This was, of course, the season of Jeter, the long goodbye for the Yankee captain. And so naturally everyone is searching for a successor, a player with the same combination of skill, timing and unflappable calm.

Posey's as fine a candidate as any, though he'd surely reject the notion in typical aw-shucks fashion.

He's not the only common denominator between the 2010, 2012 and 2014 seasons. Manager Bruce Bochy led all three clubs, while general manager Brian Sabean constructed them all. And an array of players, from stud starter Madison Bumgarner to slider-slinging reliever Sergio Romo, were key contributors in each charmed run.

In fact, while some pieces have shifted, there are multiple strands of DNA running through the Giants' efficacious even-year squads.
No one, though, has had a more consistent impact than Posey. As a rising rookie in 2010, as an incredible comeback story in 2012 and, now, as a seasoned playoff veteran, Posey has been the cherubic face of a San Francisco club that might soon get slapped, justifiably, with the "dynasty" label.

The Giants still have work to do. If any team understands that a 3-1 series advantage can slip away it's San Francisco, which was down 3-1 to these same Cardinals in the 2012 NLCS before storming back.

"We have that fresh in our minds," Posey told Fox Sports 1 after Wednesday's win (via MLB.com's Chris Haft). "We know we're going to have a tough game tomorrow."

And if the Orange and Black do advance, the red-hot Kansas City Royals, undefeated in October, will be waiting.

No matter what, the Giants know they'll have Gerald Dempsey "Buster" Posey III. So far that's been worth more than all the luck in the world.

If anything, it works and fits better than the song by Lorde.

BigD. If you never heard of it. Google boardwalk and baseball amusement park

Greatest idea ever. Not sure why it ever folded

yep...former home of the KC Royals spring training games too. I used to go there as a kid when I lived in Orlando.  I remember staring at that '52 Mantle card they had on display for hours.

which of course gave us this great show too

As all videos are blocked for me at work, can I assume this is from a trivia show that I read they did from there?

Stupid human tricks, all time worst ever nominee -

So I’m hoping a load of people are going to come out in support of me here but I’ve got that sinking feeling I may be alone in this.

Our toilet broke so I was in shopping for new ones and the sales person joked (no doubt for the millionth time) that I’ll want one that automatically puts the seat down after I’m finished with it. I ‘joked’ back and said if I didn’t have a wife I could save money and not buy one with a seat and I’d never have to hear women complaining about putting it down again. To which he gave me a strange look and said “but what about when you need to poop?”. I naturally pointed out that I’m a guy and therefore don’t put the seat down, I sit on the rim of the bowl. Several embarrassing moments later, I realize that I’ve misunderstood my entire life and that guys do indeed use the toilet seat. I left empty handed and red faced.

Thinking about it now, it makes sense. Especially how men’s restrooms have seats. But I just assumed it was a unisex/cost saving/oversight deal.

Yikes. I almost feel bad for this guy. His parents failed to properly potty train him, and he’s gone through his entire life sitting on piss-stained toilet rims because of it. Logic apparently never intervened, and every hacky “What’s with women always complaining about us leaving the toilet seat up?” joke only reinforced Pee Butt’s erroneous behavior. Poor guy.

Prayers to yo BigD from me also. Getting older does suck. Get better bro

For anyone unaware of the Frank White story in K.C, here is the info you need to catch you up on this sad state of affairs.

KANSAS CITY, Mo. – On the biggest night of baseball this city has seen in nearly 30 years, the man responsible for so many great moments here was just like the 40,000-plus people losing their minds around him. About a dozen rows back of the third-base dugout, Frank White sat anonymously – or as anonymously as Frank White can sit in his city – and relished the Kansas City Royals clinching a spot in the World Series for this suddenly baseball-mad town.

It was his third time visiting Kauffman Stadium in the past month, a softening from the stance outlined in his autobiography released less than two years ago: "You'll never see me in that stadium again." White smiled, posed for pictures, signed autographs, momentarily forgetting what kept him away and still keeps him at a distance.

Frank White should be in the middle of all this. He should be on the field, slapping the backs of Alex Gordon and Billy Butler, two linchpins of these Royals whom he once managed. He should be throwing out a first pitch, or catching one, or doing something that would allow him to bask in the Royals' resurgence. He should be a broadcaster or ambassador or anything with the Royals rather than spending the team's first meaningful October in ages campaigning for an open Jackson County Legislature spot he intends to fill for the final act of his career.

"I could throw out a first pitch for the fans, and it would be a wonderful experience," White said. "I guess my biggest thing is it doesn't fix what's wrong. Only the Royals could fix what's wrong. I've come to grips with that situation with the Royals a couple years ago and decided to move on and do some things that are positive in the community."

The saddest estrangement in baseball, between a man who embodied the ascent of a franchise and a franchise that once again has risen, lingers on the fringe of a World Series set to begin Tuesday at 8 p.m. ET. Frank White and the Royals, happily married for nearly two decades, tolerant of one another for two more, now exist at an awkward impasse forged by slights perceived and actual, insults spoken and monetary, and the most intractable force of all: pride.

Last week, the Royals extended an olive branch to White. If ever there were a time to make amends, it was heading into Game 3 of the ALCS against Baltimore, the first ALCS the Royals would host since the 1985 team that featured White, a sure-handed second baseman, filling the cleanup spot. The director of the Royals Hall of Fame, Curt Nelson, reached out to White. Others in the hall were coming to town for the occasion, and they were going to be on the field together, and the team wanted to let bygones be bygones, to have White join the group.

He said no.

"It wasn't right for me," White said, and it prompted some in the organization to wonder: If that wasn't right for him, can anything be?


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Frank White built Kauffman Stadium. This is not like Babe Ruth building Yankee Stadium. White literally built Kauffman Stadium, toiling with mortar, scraping floors level, a kid working construction to earn some money on a side job to his real work: trying to make baseball history.

The man after whom the stadium is named, the late Royals owner Ewing Kauffman, dreamed up his fair share of ideas, and one of them was brilliant: take raw athletes, send them to what amounts to baseball school and turn them into major leaguers. Frank White was the first graduate of the Royals Baseball Academy and the best. He made five All-Star teams, won eight Gold Gloves and spent all 18 of his major league seasons with his hometown team. He was Bill Mazeroski with one fewer World Series-winning home run and one fewer ring.

White grew up a 9-iron from Municipal Stadium, the predecessor to the ballpark he built and imbued with memories. George Brett was the Royals' greatness incarnate; White was its local kid done right, and in right-center field today stands a massive bronze statue that honors him. Only White, Brett and the late Dick Howser, the manager of the '85 champions, have their jersey numbers retired.

By birth, by deed, by any measure, Frank White is royalty for a team whose scoreboard is shaped like a crown. How, then, did it come to this? Pride, yes, and an inability for White and team president Dan Glass to sit down and communicate like adults, and even decades of Royals misery building up and creating pressure points that cracked a bottle they'd shaken for years. The biggest surprise was that it took so long.

White wanted to manage the Royals. This spoke to the opinion he held of himself, though White lacked neither credentials nor a willingness to pay dues. He started a managerial apprenticeship running the Royals' Double-A team in 2004. When Kansas City passed him over for Buddy Bell in 2005 and Trey Hillman in 2008, White felt slighted, and he left Wichita after three seasons only to join the Royals' TV broadcast booth. He was growing into an excellent color commentator, marrying his knowledge of the game's intricacies with a willingness to speak the truth about the organization. Coming off as many 100-loss seasons as the Royals booked, such facts hurt.

Whether it was his criticism or the perception that he bad-mouthed the team to other organizations, the Royals told White they wanted to slash the salary of his community-relations job – essentially a perfunctory, appearance-making gig – from $150,000 to $50,000. The Bell hiring was one slight, the Hillman another. White saw this as too much, an insult. A year later, Fox Sports fired him from his announcing job and replaced him with Rex Hudler, an unabashed booster.

White joined the Kansas City T-Bones, a local independent team, as a coach, and worked in sales and marketing for a local roofing company. At public appearances, fans would ask when he was going to go back to the Royals, and White would smile and laugh, because that's how he hides his pain. And at the same time, the Royals grit their teeth at being cast as the bad guys, knowing that a six-figure annual golden parachute is the sort of luxury rarely given, believing that White's desire to be treated as Brett's equal fueled an animosity that needn't have existed.

"I'm not waiting for an apology at all," White said. "I've basically moved on. What happened with the Royals happened with the Royals. What happened with Dan Glass and his front office happened with him. My focus has been on rooting for the team and winning the race next month."

His first appearance at the ballpark, in September, did both, as did his subsequent visits at the wild card and ALCS games. The crowd in the playoff games, White said, bested that of 1985, almost like the fans from the Chiefs migrated across the street from Arrowhead Stadium to Kauffman. The crowd cheered practically every strike, even in the early innings. One fan near White noticed he wasn't doing it.

"How come you're not cheering every strike?" he asked White.

"If you cheer strike one, strike two might be over the wall," White said. "I always wait for strike three."


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Nobody knows this for sure, because nobody up at the highest levels of Royals management gave the go-ahead, but if Frank White had said yes last week – if he had agreed to forget the past, or at least forget it for now – he might have thrown out the first pitch for that game. Or caught it. Or something that would have provided an incredible moment, a surge of excitement to a stadium already taxing the grid with its electricity levels. He would've been back. That would've meant something. He would've seen it. The Royals would've seen it. Both sides would've known never, ever to let something get in the way of their relationship, no matter how much of a pain he can be, no matter how stubborn they can be.

The Royals didn't offer that. Brett threw the first pitch. Even though White said, "I'm not asking for anything special," it's obvious he wants just that, seeing as the olive branch wasn't sufficient. In his book, White said his heart was broken, and mending a broken heart takes something special, something extraordinary, a conciliatory effort well beyond what may be warranted. White may be too prideful for his own good, but flawed men are not broken, not worth forsaking, not when such hubris can be laughed off by those who spend time understanding its roots. Fixing estrangements takes both sides not just extending a branch but offering the whole damn tree, and as uncomfortable a position as it may be for the Royals, it's theirs to proffer before White will his.

They are the team in the World Series, the team riding the first 8-0 run ever to begin the postseason, the team with personality and talent, the team that has transfixed the city every bit as much as, if not more than, the 1985 team. They are kingmakers right now, and it would not make them weak to approach White and ask how to make this proper. It would add another win to a postseason full of them.

Of course, it may be too late. Major League Baseball approves those who throw out the first pitch, and the league isn't altogether fond of last-minute surprises. Certainly this would be a worthwhile one, if only to ensure White sees in person what he grew so fond of on TV over the summer. He's particularly smitten by Lorenzo Cain, like him a kid with limited baseball experience who grew into a star, and Alcides Escobar, a middle infielder who can survive a 162-game grind. He loves the raw ability of Eric Hosmer, the knowledge of Salvador Perez, the incredible bullpen. White especially takes pride in Gordon and Butler, the last two links from his managing days in Wichita.

"I have nothing but good things to say about him," Gordon said. "I loved him as a manager in Double-A and loved him as an announcer. It would be great to see him here."

Said Butler: "He's a part of this organization – a big part of this organization – and it would be nice to have him back. He's done a lot of good things for this organization, this city. He should definitely want to come back. The city would embrace him."

In a way, it is. White cruised to the Democratic nomination of the 1st District At-Large seat for the county legislature that covers Kansas City, and his opponent in the notoriously liberal area is a Republican who prides himself on not spending a single dollar on his campaign. White is going to win and win running away, and he'll spend at least the next four years trying to fulfill his promises of fighting crime, making his community safer and improving parks and recreation.

"I've always been one to want to do something I've never done before," he said. "The Baseball Academy, being the first to graduate from that. I had to work for everything I've got. So I felt like this would be a good opportunity to end it all. This would be the last challenge for me."

White wants to dabble in politics for 10 years, then retire for good. He's 64 – a grandfather 12 times over, a great grandpa now, too, and "one year from Social Security," he noted with a laugh. He's got only so much time left to work, so much change to affect.

"And you know," he said, "I couldn't have done this if I'd have stayed in baseball."

He's right. He couldn't have. And maybe that's what he wants now, after spending this much time away from the Royals. Maybe, though, he'll keep softening, like the "You'll never see me in that stadium again" turning into a few appearances in the stands. Maybe he'll understand that this relationship is symbiotic, that he's better with the Royals and the Royals are better with him, because this is so much bigger than just them. This is the distillation of distant yet still wonderful memories, the last ones worth remembering before this October.

Hopefully, time will give Frank White even more wisdom than he has already and fill him with forgiveness as well, because this fight has gone on long enough already. The saddest estrangement in baseball doesn't need to be that way. Not when both sides have so much more to gain than they've already lost.