Giants are listless. Vitello blacks out

Ramos HR taken away. Meh.

When the Giants hired Tony Vitello, there were concerns that he was such a hothead when he coached at Tennessee that he might have to tone it down for the Big Leagues.

Mission accomplished.

Any mythology of Fireball Tony died a sad death over the weekend in Tampa Bay’s weird, indoor erector set of a baseball field, in front of a crowd of almost nobody. (This photo shows the ballpark but not the empty seats.)

The Giants lost, of course, as they have been, but have begun to look like a sad and listless club team that can’t get out of its own way. Worse, they’d reached such a nadir of enthusiasm that they couldn’t muster a fuss, even when a pre-made fuss was presented to them.

It was only a moment in a bad stretch of bad moments, but it was revealing.

You already know the story. In Saturday’s game Heliot Ramos hit a deep fly to center, even taking the time to pose at a home plate because he was sure it was gone. Centerfielder Cedric Mullins backed up, reached the wall, looked up and . . .

Suddenly lurched forward and caught an easy pop fly well short of the wall.

The evidence was circumstantial, but it certainly looked like the ball hit the catwalk over the fence. It would not be the first time. The catwalks have a history. The New York Times called it part ballpark, “part pinball machine.”

After some discussion, the umpires ruled the ball hadn’t hit the catwalk and was an out. They took away the home run.

At this point, Vitello’s reaction should be automatic.

He comes out of the dugout like a roman candle. We’re talking George Brett with the pine tar bat energy. (see above.) That’s how you react when a homer is taken away.

Vitello should say something to the effect of, “F-bombing right it was an f-bombing home run! Are you f-bombing BLIND?”

And, given a little encouragement, he could be thrown out of the game. And, because I’m a bit of a theater guy, I’d like it if he’d go over and kick some dirt on the plate, just for the gesture.

Instead the reaction was a little more “Pardon? What’s the ruling? That doesn’t seem right.”

Others were more engaged.

Exasperated starter Adrian Houser pitched a fit to the umps and was thrown out. Pitching coach Frank Anderson, apparently figuring no one else was doing anything, went out to confront the officials and got tossed too.

After the game, Vitello said he was “just trying to get it sorted” and wondering “can we take a look at it?”

And then he said:

“I kinda blacked out to be honest with you.”

Really? Have you had that checked? Cause controversial plays are part of the job description.

And then he referenced something that has flown under the radar a little. That he isn’t getting Major League respect. Broadcaster Dave Fleming said he thought home plate umpire asked “Who do you think you are?”

Vitello certainly picked up on it, saying home plate umpire Hunter Wendlestedt said “something about ra-ra and pom-poms which had something to do with college or my behavior in the dugout.”

So lack of gravitas was a concern coming in, and it sounds like it is turning out to be a feature not a bug.

Here’s the point . . .

It is entirely possible the ball didn’t hit the catwalk. Who is to say? It is pretty obvious no one, including the officials knew for sure.

It doesn’t matter.

You go out there, guns blazing, defending your guys. That’s what’s expected. You project confidence, strength and knowledge of the game. You look like you belong.

And right now Vitello doesn’t.

He looks over his head in press conferences. He references “the noise,” meaning the media and internet chatter, that is growing as the team struggles. Sounds like someone who is letting it get to him.

Worse, there are identifiable moments when he looks overwhelmed.

The doubleheader loss sweep in Philadelphia had the kind of glaring, face-slapping lapses that kills hope.

Nine consecutive fastballs to Bryson Allen in the bottom of the ninth. (Result, game-winning triple.)

Nine straight splits to Kyle Schwarber. (Result: game-tying double, leading to loss in the bottom of the tenth.)

The next day on KNBR Mike Krukow said he was “yelling” at the TV to see such rock-headed pitching incompetence. And he said, when his wife came in to see why he was yelling, “she started yelling at the TV.”

Now you’re going to say that a manager can’t hit, catch or run for himself. (And neither can the players, apparently.)

But a manager does set a tone for a team. And after the Saturday loss to Tampa, broadcaster Dave Fleming, who is, after all, invested in the Giants doing well, called the team “dispirited.”

This makes the Giants’ wicket a little sticky. They will, of course, be saying that they are not even considering saying that Vitello is not up to the job, but let’s don’t pretend it hasn’t come up, at least as a hypothetical.

The team is still paying fired manager Bob Melvin $4 million this year for him to sit on the couch, nod to the TV and say, “Yeah, I might have gone with the lefty there Tony.”

(Melvin has also gotten a front office job with the A’s, so he’s still in the game.)

And that’s in addition to the $3.5 million a year they are paying Vitello, who is in the first year of a three-year contract.

That’s a lot of cabbage for a franchise that is famously mid-level frugal. Although now that they have “Kushner money” (and what an embarrassment that is in SF) they should be able to front a large payroll.

Right now it looks like they’re stuck — the team, the manager and the players.

At this point it seems there’s only on direction. Back to the future, when Vitello was hired and we were watching clips of him losing his mind, coming out of the dugout and taking on umpires all over the field.

It’s better to flame out than fade away. Just a thought.

Otherwise, when you think of this season you will have only one logical response.

I blacked out.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Twitter and Threads: cwnevius