The team of my youth, the San Francisco Giants, has just won its third World Series in five years. It is an amazing accomplishment, though it is still difficult for me to fully comprehend.
(This guy sometimes seemed to fall asleep while playing in the OF)
I developed my love for baseball over long summers sitting inn the upper deck at Candlestick Park, where Willie McCovey seemed to stand a few city blocks away, a miniature figure among other miniature figures in a massive, mostly empty stadium.
I watch my SF Giants game on TV (except the ones v. the Dodgers because of TWC) because I live in Southern California. With the exception of Amy G, I enjoy my games and looking at the beautiful stadium. It is a source of civic pride, especially to this native San Franciscan who weathered so many seasons at Candlestick Park.
The San Francisco Giants are more than likely in Los Angeles this evening, doing all the neat superhero things like clearing the smog and deporting Justin Bieber.