All posts by Amok

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An American fairy tale for a struggling country: San Francisco Giants, 2010 World Series Champs

 As a long-suffering fan and San Francisco native, I tried to replicate the team’s joy when the Giants won it all.  I jumped on the person next to me (fortunately, my wife) and then poured champagne (a bottle from BevMo’s .05 sale) on my head.  Wet? No worries. I had that thick orange towel they handed out at World Series Game 1 to soak it all up.

What a season. What a championship. 56 years it took? That’s just about my entire life.

So I’m still in a Giants semi-stupor, though it’s wearing off fast as I turn on the news and get a taste of reality.

Mid-terms, the stuff that counts, the direction of this country.  It’s all bad.

It’s the reason we need the Giants.

I voted last week so I didn’t have to think about real life too much today. I didn’t want a mid-term implosion to get in the way of my Giants’ euphoria.

I know I can’t stay in my Orange haze for too long, but the Giants’ story is just what this country needs. It’s a story of optimism, hope and belief. It’s a story of what happens when we all hope for the same thing and pull together.  In many ways, it’s a perfect fairy tale for a country struggling to stay afloat, socially, economically.

The Giants’ weren’t exactly royalty at the beginning of the year. They had some great young arms, but no supporting staff. No pop, no power. This team wasn’t suppose to play in October, nevermind November.

But there they were, a team put together with a recession budget. GM Brian Sabean was like a guy at the pick and pull, looking for parts to build a champion racer. He had a list and a credit card limit. He had already overpaid badly for Zito and Rowand in previous years. And even Renteria got too much.  So the Giants didn’t have the dough to build a Yankee-like coupe.  Instead, they put together a team that could race to the last day of the regular season and to Game 5 of the Series.  Castoffs? They were all grinders. Every piece was necessary and had a moment to shine at some point in the season.

But no real stars. Why that’s no good for baseball, as one commentator suggested.

The Giants and baseball may have a hard time competing with the violence of football. But they are reflective of a recession-age champion. It’s excellence built-on a budget. A team of hope. A team that the chardonnay sippers could love, along side the blue-collar bleacher bums. I sat with both during the playoffs. 

 First off, there is no team that has as diverse a fan base as the Giants. You look at the crowd and it’s not all of one type.  That’s how you know it’s San Francisco. I sat next to a young Latino teamster from the Mission, a Caucasian  female business owner from Potrero Hill married to an Asian, a white professional couple from the Peninsula.  A Korean immigrant and his born-here son from the East Bay. What kind of entertainment/team attracts that kind of mixed demos?

And after every victory, I must have hi-fived several hundred strangers after every home-run, run scored, or ultimate victory. No Purelle necessary. We were Giants family.

That kind of teamwork on the field, a sense of unity, is what was special about this team and their ballpark. Over 43,000 a night coming together over a victorious championship run is not as trivial as it seems on first blush. 

I admit I felt the same way in the  AT&T  stands as I did when I stood in 15 degree temperatures two years ago in the Washington Mall for the Obama Inaugural. There was a real sense of unity and hopefulness that I  hadn’t seen or felt  in a long time. There was no divisiveness, just talk of working together, of a brand new kind of politics. There were cheers, parades, speeches.

It wasn’t a game nor entertainment. It was for real. Where did it go? 

That’s why I want to hold on to my Giants’ feeling as long as I can. Because after today, I know the real world is not going to feel so great.

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Oh, by the way, “The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant!” And here’s how they’ll win the 2010 World Series

Giants baseball, torture? 

Torture is more torturuorus remotely, when you can’t see the game live or even on TV. Try getting the info on the web by Smartphone from a not so convenient spot. But there we were at the Millennium Restaurant’s backroom waiting for every download. And when the screen flashed that Howard struck out looking, there was no prompting needed. That was it. The Giants were in. The Giants fans in the room toasted, gave the Russ Hodges’ cheer, then returned to our tempeh.

But when I got home I wore out the DVR. I couldn’t get enough.  As a long-suffering native, I’ve been admiring this team’s four year  evolution from the arrival of Lincecum. It’s always been entertaining, but who wants to be a loveable loser?

 The final pieces didn’t come together until this May. First Posey, then Burrell, then Ross, Ramirez and Lopez. 

And now the team feels like a real team.  A real championship ensemble, a cast of characters with no real superstars like Giants teams of old. There’s no a Mays or a Will the Thrill or a Barry.  The Rangers are that type of team this year with Josh Hamilton. The Giants are crafted differently. It’s like Brian Sabean went down to the “pick and pull” to put together a race car. Hardly, a Ferrari, but when all the cylinders are firing, it’s enough to get to the finish line by a nose.

I predicted the Giants in 6 against the Phils.  This time, I figure the Giants will win the first two at home, with Lincecum and Cain. Cody Ross will again be a key performer, but Posey and Burrell will also liven up. And so will Pablo Sandoval. In Texas, the Rangers will show off their stuff and take two of three, with Lincecum winning game 5. The team returns to SF with a 3-2 series edge. Game 6 will be closed out by Matt Cain,  a nice antitdote to the mid-term election disaster that’s looming. We’ll all need an escape from the impending doom, and the Giants will be there to keep our minds off the heavy matters.  And why not, the history will be thick. The Giants win at home, the first time ever in SF, and the first time since 1954 for the franchise.

That’s the dream.  Believe it.

I’m taking inventory of what I wore on that night  Wilson struck out Howard. Lucky clothing? I think it was my  socks with the border collies on it.

My border collie’s  doesn’t  hit. But boy can he catch a frisbee.  His name? Coincidentally, it’s  just like the NLCS MVP.

Ross.

Update:

Watching different media. Unbelievable how the Giants get no respect for going through Oswalt, Halladay and Hamels.  No love for the Giants from national media. But that’s good. The Giants are the underdog in the Underdog World Series.

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Giants lose, but I still don’t want to talk about anything else (Juan Williams? Did he play right field for NPR? Or left field for Fox?)

When I played baseball (semi-pee wee), I thanked God every time the ball was hit to someone else. Like my buddy Arnold Shaver.

So I know how difficult it is to spear a line drive and to pick up a short hop grounder.

At the professional level you just expect things to happen.  But last night they didn’t.

Balls took funny hops and caromed off bodies like Aubrey Huff’s.

Bases suddenly disappeared as when Pablo Sandoval turned to tag the bag and stepped on …dirt.

Bunts that are foul played fair.  (So much for the much ballyhooed Philly offense).

It was just a disastrous third inning for the Giants.  Tim Lincecum had just pitched to six batters in the first two innings and had struck out 2.  I admit to getting ahead of myself. I was beginning to think of a night of wild revelry.

And then things fell apart.

Despite that  one ining, it was just a one-run deficit for much of the game and the Giants had their chances to score.  But this is championship baseball. You’ve got to be picture perfect. And on this night, not even  photoshop could help.

The same things on defense happened on offense.

Hard hit balls that had found grass in previous games, were gloved. .

Runners who beat out throws, got tagged.

Batters that got wood when we needed,  didn’t.

That’s baseball. 

Next stop Philly. Avoid the overrated, hyper-fatty Cheesesteaks.  (It’s healthier just to get a box of crackers and a can of CheezWhiz . Your very own can).  The game is on Saturday.  Two shots to win it, two arms (Sanchez and Cain) to do it.

Do you still believe?

As far as Juan Williams, Fox and NPR, I don’t believe.

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Best game ever at AT&T Park? It could be tonight with SF Giants’ Tim Lincecum vs. Phillies’ Roy Halladay

I was envious watching last night’s game on TV. It’s already being called a classic, with good pitching, clutch hitting, and Buster Posey.

It was an important game.

But it didn’t win anything. 

That’s why tonight’s game will have it all. Dueling aces, a Doc, a Freak, sudden elimination, imminent joy. The last out could crown a pennant chamipion.

Now the players have to perform up to expectations. Are the Phils so determined to fight to the death? Or did they get sapped after last night? Is the momentum so heavily weighted for the Giants that a comeback is impossible? 

Tonight’s game should be the classic.  But now they have to play it.

I’ve said Giants in 6. But I now feel Giants in 5 is more than possible.  

That said, who’s winning the midterms?  Are the witches winning? How about that illegal immigrant employer? What’s happening in Afghanistan? Is someone going to call for a moratorium on foreclosures? 

Is  there really anything going on outside the foul lines? Let it wait.

This is why baseball is so important to have.

The game is a safe haven from life. 

You go to the game and see 50,000 members of a real diverse community,a mirror of the Bay Area.  Some will be in various states of consciousness. But what would you expect  from such a sample size.

And if  the Giants win at home tonight, the place will explode with good will and joy,  the likes of which you just don’t see if the talk was about anything that really mattered. 

So we go to the game mostly because that kind of euphoria can and does happen. Live and in person. The great escape.  It’s a good obsession. I have to go.

It’s baseball as drug and I’ve got to have that feeling. I didn’t feel it it 2002. Or even 1989. 1962–that was it for me.

So I’m going tonight. I’ll  stand for every pitch in the cold and hope to feel that explosion to come when the last out is recorded, and everyone as brothers and sisters go crazy over this improbable bunch of underdogs, the Giants.