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.
There was a brief time in my childhood when my father and I rooted for the Oakland A’s. He spent most of my life cheering against any team that I loved, but we were united in our respect for the boys in green and yellow.
(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.
I once had long, thick, straight and beautiful hair until I was 9, when both my grandmother and mother decided that I would survive a humid Japanese summer better with a short cut. We went to the beauty salon, where my hair was tied back and chopped off with one swift stroke of shears.
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.
This is something every SF Giants and SF 49ers fan has been asking for the past 4-5 years, although I’m not sure if Amy G…