The Giants come to Oracle Park where our bats go to die and theirs remember how to pitch, so we're basically playing a road game in a different uniform.

Look, we're down six runs at altitude where the ball flies and the Giants' pitching is already sweating through their jerseys, so I've learned not to count us out until I've counted us out, which will be in about six minutes.

The Rockies are allergic to Coors Field's thin air and we're playing at sea level where even our rebuild can breathe.

Six runs up on the Rockies in the seventh inning at Oracle Park is exactly the kind of thing that makes me think we're finally building something, or at least that's what I'm telling myself at midnight before the crushing disappointment inevitably arrives.