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In the old days, any player worth talking about had a nickname. It’s a bit of a lost art now (add “y” to name, that will suffice), but an oh-so-charismatic San Francisco team has proven worthy of conjuring the game’s colorful past. Yes, the Kung Fu Panda hit a sophomore slump, but that ultra-clutch two-run double in the NLCS is what I’ll remember. Lincecum has defied the odds his whole career, and the Giants defied all odds in 2010. What a year! And those panda hats are still the very best in ballpark wear. Heck, I wore mine to a Billy Bragg/Mavis Staples show…

You heard about the Mudcat, Catfish and the Georgia Peach. The Kitten and the Cobra, the Spaceman and the Beast. Goose, Bird, Rooster, Penguin, Vulture -- and your bird can sing. And the greatest nickname of all time: Death To Flying Things. In old New York it was Turkey Mike, Muggsy and the Big Six. In San Francisco, Baby Bull, Stretch, and the Say Hey Kid. Then came the Count, the Hackman, Jack the Ripper and Will the Thrill. Barry and Jeff Kent, but a dearth of nicknames, that is, until…The Giants got the Panda. The Giants got the Freak. The Panda’s smoking line drives; the Freak is throwing heat. Panda and the Freak!

When it comes to kung fu fighting, he’s no better than Hong Chi Quo. He’s kind of like Bruce Lee if you cross Bruce Lee with a buffalo. He barrels round the bases; he scrambles for ground balls. Zito named him Kung Fu Panda -- that’s our Pablo Sandoval.

They said he wasn’t built to last; they said he was too small. The Mariners passed him right by -- now that was a bad call. Two Cy Youngs, two strike-out crowns, in his first full two years. And if Timmy takes a puff or two, let’s raise a toast, “Three cheers!” The Giants got the Panda. The Giants got the Freak. The Panda’s smoking line drives; the Freak is smoking weed. Panda and the Freak!