My thoughts about the Giants playoff run
This will be the third playoff run I have been involved with in the last two years. One benefit of living in around the country is having several team loyalties.
I was in New York for the Yankees' last World Series victory and I was in New Orleans for the Saints' Superbowl win this year.
Now the San Francisco Giants are pushing hard for their championship.
I am more stoked than I have ever felt before, probably because I've been to games all through out the season; and friends, acquaintances, co-workers, and total strangers are all wearing the Orange.
The other teams I followed privately from my current home in San Francisco. There was no one around to share my thoughts and elation with until I traveled to my team's home states for the actual championship game.
The Giants is an easy team to love and support. There are no runaway egos, aloofness from the worshipful fan base, or the athlete abuses ranging from the asinine to the criminal which is unfortunately common with the millionaires playing a boy's game.
There are only a few stars on our team, the cream of the league who receive regular attention on a national scale. Tim Lincecum is one, Buster Posey is another. They are humble, personable and approachable, possibly because both are so young.
The older veterans are solid players but hardly superstars. The Giant heroes were mostly picked from the scrapheap, epitomized by Cody Ross, who was put on waivers in the late summer and was picked up to block his transfer to the San Diego Padres, a division rival who was actually running away from San Francisco at the time.
Ross was named MVP of the National League Championship Series after hitting three home runs, all of them in pressure packed situations.
There are some well-documented oddities, from Lincecum's marijuana bust, Aubrey Huff's red thong, to the beards of the bullpen led by Brian Wilson, the weirdest of the whole bunch. These peccadilloes just endear the team to a Bay Area who already embraces strange forms of behavior and appearance.
The night the Giants clinched the Pennant, I watched the game with my neighbors Jesse, my partner in crime for the entire season, and Sarah, a recent bandwagoner but who is as vulnerable to peaks and depths from rooting for a team with the unofficial motto, "Giants Baseball: Torture".
The last few innings were so torturous. Thanks to my years living in Buffalo, I have an expectation of losing so I am prepared the blow when it happens, and the tie score for most of the game seemed like the Giants were nearing defeat.
When Juan Uribe knocked the go-ahead, eighth inning home run which barely cleared the outfield wall, the hit which shattered Eastern Pennsylvania barely registered with me. I suppose medicating my frayed nerves with alcohol and pot also prevented from feeling the joy.
Still, we did celebrate late into the night, whooping it up in the streets with strangers and friends.
As for the upcoming World Series, I have not completed my statistical research to offer anything relevant, but I see one possible theme of the clash between San Francisco Values versus the Texan Conservatism, particularly in this hotly contested political season.
I have already started the "Beat Texas! Beat George Bush!" chants. Bush was the managing general partner before his political run culminating into his failed Presidency. He has been absent from the public eye since leaving the White House, and I hope he makes a big splash during the World Series, so voters around the country can remember the reason why we are in such bad shape right now.
My blogging counterparts from Texas are probably painting Nancy Pelosi as the Giants mascot.
I am going into the World Series with the same pessimism I had about most of the season. I think the Giants can win, but I am not blind to how they can lose.
My last thought for now is time and effort I have decided to the Giants. Running around the Bay Area to see them play has required a fair amount of logistical planning, and I can fill up the the 30 hours a week that revolves around the team.
But if the Giants can actually win, while the party might last only for a few days, the elation will continue for the whole year.
I was in New York for the Yankees' last World Series victory and I was in New Orleans for the Saints' Superbowl win this year.
Now the San Francisco Giants are pushing hard for their championship.
I am more stoked than I have ever felt before, probably because I've been to games all through out the season; and friends, acquaintances, co-workers, and total strangers are all wearing the Orange.
The other teams I followed privately from my current home in San Francisco. There was no one around to share my thoughts and elation with until I traveled to my team's home states for the actual championship game.
The Giants is an easy team to love and support. There are no runaway egos, aloofness from the worshipful fan base, or the athlete abuses ranging from the asinine to the criminal which is unfortunately common with the millionaires playing a boy's game.
There are only a few stars on our team, the cream of the league who receive regular attention on a national scale. Tim Lincecum is one, Buster Posey is another. They are humble, personable and approachable, possibly because both are so young.
The older veterans are solid players but hardly superstars. The Giant heroes were mostly picked from the scrapheap, epitomized by Cody Ross, who was put on waivers in the late summer and was picked up to block his transfer to the San Diego Padres, a division rival who was actually running away from San Francisco at the time.
Ross was named MVP of the National League Championship Series after hitting three home runs, all of them in pressure packed situations.
There are some well-documented oddities, from Lincecum's marijuana bust, Aubrey Huff's red thong, to the beards of the bullpen led by Brian Wilson, the weirdest of the whole bunch. These peccadilloes just endear the team to a Bay Area who already embraces strange forms of behavior and appearance.
The night the Giants clinched the Pennant, I watched the game with my neighbors Jesse, my partner in crime for the entire season, and Sarah, a recent bandwagoner but who is as vulnerable to peaks and depths from rooting for a team with the unofficial motto, "Giants Baseball: Torture".
The last few innings were so torturous. Thanks to my years living in Buffalo, I have an expectation of losing so I am prepared the blow when it happens, and the tie score for most of the game seemed like the Giants were nearing defeat.
When Juan Uribe knocked the go-ahead, eighth inning home run which barely cleared the outfield wall, the hit which shattered Eastern Pennsylvania barely registered with me. I suppose medicating my frayed nerves with alcohol and pot also prevented from feeling the joy.
Still, we did celebrate late into the night, whooping it up in the streets with strangers and friends.
As for the upcoming World Series, I have not completed my statistical research to offer anything relevant, but I see one possible theme of the clash between San Francisco Values versus the Texan Conservatism, particularly in this hotly contested political season.
I have already started the "Beat Texas! Beat George Bush!" chants. Bush was the managing general partner before his political run culminating into his failed Presidency. He has been absent from the public eye since leaving the White House, and I hope he makes a big splash during the World Series, so voters around the country can remember the reason why we are in such bad shape right now.
My blogging counterparts from Texas are probably painting Nancy Pelosi as the Giants mascot.
I am going into the World Series with the same pessimism I had about most of the season. I think the Giants can win, but I am not blind to how they can lose.
My last thought for now is time and effort I have decided to the Giants. Running around the Bay Area to see them play has required a fair amount of logistical planning, and I can fill up the the 30 hours a week that revolves around the team.
But if the Giants can actually win, while the party might last only for a few days, the elation will continue for the whole year.
Excellent post.
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