A moment of Giants-related zen

Right now I’m not nervous, but I’ll probably be on the verge of vomiting on Wednesday.

I would like Ross to dominate again. That would be awesome.

And I feel a strong urge to thank them

In 24 hours, I’ll be in San Francisco, California.
In 48 hours, I’ll be at 24 Willie Mays Plaza.
In 72 hours, I’ll be at 24 Willie Mays Plaza.

You guess my mental state of mind.

Feeling pretty good about this whole thing actually. Especially when I think how the Rangers have yet to see pitching like the pitching they are about to see. Hell even if they do get something started, it’s inevitable that “Rally Killer Molina” will do his utmost to squash anything they get going.

And I feel pretty good, but the dread is slowly, slowly creeping in… the Rangers don’t hit pop-ups, they hit bombs. Tim Lincecum could very well allow 9 SBs in a single inning — NO, NO… I won’t do this… not today. Not now. Wednesday.

Pretty much the same here. I’m really happy they made it to the World Series and I don’t think I’m going to get AS stressed out over these games as I did over the NL*S games.

I was talking to someone at work this morning, trying to explain the experience. In 2002 when the Giants clinched it was euphoria in 2010 it was relief.

I’ll probably have an upset stomach and a headache come Wednesday, but for now I’m fine and looking forward to a decent night’s sleep tonight!

if they win a game…maybe I’ll get excited…

if they win four game…I’ll think about cheering for them…

I’m nervous, but not because I think were worse or anything. The team has so wildly beaten expectations already that a win wouldn’t surprise me and a crushing loss wouldn’t surprise me either

I’m in a euphoric state of limbo. This is where I am so happy they are in the World Series and where anything can happen. As opposed to when the games start, and the frustration, torture and heart ache begin.

Was singing this. He’s country, you know.

Mental state, wrung out like a dishtowel, currently recharging batteries.

http://www.mercurynews.com/giants/ci_16424008

I don’t know what will happen to my body during the World Series.

With two outs in the bottom of the ninth of game six in Philadelphia with two on, Ryan Howard at the plate and a full-count (it was a full-count, right?), my body was sick. My mind was sick. I was trying to think of how I would react if, if, if only Brian Wilson could ring up that last out, and the only reaction that I could fathom was slumping even further into my couch, breathing out, and slowly coming down from the stress.

I mean, I was a mess. I was completely slunk over on my side, sinking into this couch.

And then with no warning at all I was standing up three feet from my couch pumping my fist and whooping. I didn’t see that in my a second and a half before. I could barely even sit up a second and half before. And suddenly I was standing and whooping.

I think the World Series might be similar. I’ll be acting one way. I’ll be expecting to act a certain way when certain things happen. And then with no warning at all, my body will do something completely different.

Right now I feel okay, though. As negative feelings go, I would have liked BSG: Razor to have been significantly better than it was. But my feelings for the Giants are all positive.

but I have this slight pressure over my heart. I already know that it’s a fist that will slowly squeeze my heart centimeter by centimeter tormenting me until this series is over.

I’ve made peace with the torture. It’s inevitable.

Saturday night, instead of anticipating Wilson giving up a walk-off HR in that hour-long bottom of the 9th (the thought did enter my mind for a second or two), I purposely pushed that thought out and decided right then and there to anticipate the win.

I decided to just KNOW that our win was coming and relish the anticipation.

It was so much more fun that way. I hope I can keep doing that.

Also, I’m going to buy champagne and keep it in my fridge. I did that for the NLCS and it was comforting knowing it was in there. In the words of Buster Posey, “Why not?”.

I kinda got to that point midway through the NLCS. This Giants team CAN beat anyone. They could’ve beaten the Yankees, they could’ve (and did) beat the Phillies, and they can beat the Rangers. It’s just a question of Will They? I mean, I guess that’s obvious, but I think it makes sense to anyone following this team.

As it stands now, there is fuckall any of us can do. Hell, as fluky as we are, there’s not a ton that any of the position players can do at this point. We have to hope one or two of them get hot. That sounds scary, but we have a dozen guys who absolutely CAN get hot. Red hot. And in a best-of-seven, that could be all we need.

I would like to see Sabes cry one more time…

not enough whiskey or antacids in the world.

I fear for my upcoming bar tabs and my liver.

I moved here in 07, when the GSWarriors upset the Mavs. I showed up to the first game of that series, with a goofy sign (and shout-out to GSOM) that read “I’m just happy to be here.” We won some games, upset the #1 seed, had some laughs.

Since then, I’ve predicted a Giants/Rangers world series. I was never serious. And here we are! I’m certainly more of a baseball fan, so I don’t think my “just happy to be here” sign applies this time around. That’s not enough anymore.

The Giants have hurt me once before, and I don’t want to get hurt again. I won’t allow myself to think we have a shot at this. I wish we could fast forward a week and just…know already. /pops two alka-seltzers

The more I’m thinking about WS, the more I’m starting to curl up into the fetal position.

On the subject of mental states, I got some pretty upsetting news yesterday, and I’ve really been missing the escapism baseball can bring. I’m not too worried about the team winning or losing at this moment in time; I just the games to start up. I could really use that familiar distraction right about now.

tomorrow, my flight from new Orleans to SFO will be anxiety central.
my suitcase is full of orange and black. my outfit for game 1 is epic.

I can’t wait. play fucking ball.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRbPWcLode0

/6-string raise

I just got back from Spanish class and one of the first things my profa. asked me was, “You happy about those Giants?”

It was hard not to yell “FUCK YEAH.”

I eagerly anticipate Edgar Renteria hitting like .340/.380/.700 in this series.

I do not eagerly anticipate Bengie Molina’s fluky good hitting and people assuming it’s because HE KNOWZ THESE PITCHERS SO WELL

But once the World Series starts I will probably be just like I have been every game this postseason.
Something bad happens: Oh God, we’re fucked. FML, why do I even watch?
Something good happens: Holy shit we’re actually gonna win this game! Yes!

Before the season started, I was on the pessimistic side of the fence. I told my then-suitemate, now-roommate (a Yankees fan) that there was no way they were making the playoffs – “The Giants would be lucky to get over .500 again!” I remember telling her, “At least you never have to worry about the Yankees. They’re pretty much a lock to make it.”

“Your pitching is too good for you guys not to make the playoffs,” she responded.

“But that doesn’t mean anything if you can’t score runs! Our entire offense is Pablo Sandoval.”

“Yeah, but seriously, your pitching is so good, it doesn’t matter how good your offense is. You know what? The Giants are going to the World Series this year, I guarantee it.” That was her lofty, Men’s Warehouse-esque prediction made back in March.

I scoffed, and didn’t believe her at all. The Giants? In the World Series? Psh, yeah right, if they went over .500 I’d consider the season a success. And that was how they started – hovering over .500, never dipping below but never taking it to the next level. But then, as the summer went on, the Giants were winning, and the Padres and Dodgers and Rockies started losing. I went back to school with the Giants in the playoff race, and then actually in the playoffs.

My roommate just shook her head, saying, “Told you.”

Then the playoffs happened. The Giants won the NLDS, and then won Game 1 against the Phillies. And Game 3. And Game 4.

“The Giants might actually make it to the World Series this year! They just need one more win! And they could do it at home!” I told my roommate, excited.

“Nah, the Giants aren’t going to win Game 5. Phillies won’t roll over for that. They will win Game 6, though.”

I thought she was wrong, since the Giants had all the momentum and the home crowd so of COURSE they would win that night! Needless to say, they didn’t, and I told my roommate, “Damnit! You jinxed them!”

“Yeah, but they’ll win Game 6.”

Cue Saturday. I was sitting at the very edge of the seat most of the game, my face in my hands as the Giants rallied from the early 2-0 deficet and then the removal of Sanchez. She came in during the ninth, and saw me nervously rock back and forth. Her girlfriend wanted to watch a movie, but she said no, it’s almost over. Like she knew that no matter what, the game wouldn’t be going into extras.

We both watched Brian Wilson pitch, yelling at the TV whenever we thought pitch was a strike, or when Wilson put the two runners on.

“Oh my god, this is torture, man,” she told me.

Then, when Wilson threw that perfect strike 3 pitch, accompanied by the umpire’s over-the-top call, both of us jumped up and down in celebration, a Yankees fan and a Giants fan deep in Dodgers country. I never expected it to happen. She called it in Spring Training.

“Who do you think is going to win the World Series?” I asked her, finally believing in her mystical Giants-related psychic powers.

“I don’t know, but I want the Giants to win. Because fuck the Rangers, and I called the Giants in the World Series.”

“How do you like Lincecum and Posey? Pretty awesome, huh?”

“They’re going to look good in pinstripes in a few years.”

Damnit.

you guys think it’s worth it? I’ve been to plenty of games but a world series game is a once in a lifetime thing. anyone know how the standing room only thing works? I never really pay attention to it when I’m at the games

Needless to say, they were somewhat puzzled/flabbergasted/appalled when I spouted off seemingly random things like:

a) when Dicktorino muffed the over-the-shoulder catch, “Haha, eat shit, rectumface!”
b) when Ross hit the double “CODY FUCKING ROSS!”
c) after every strikeout, “SIT THE FUCK DOWN!”
d) when Uribe hit the game-winner “JAZZ HANDS!”

Also, needless to say, I’m not invited back. But I’ll be on my laptop… on MCC… writing things that I guess I’m not supposed to say in public… conversing with people who know who Scott is, who Mole is, and know that Eckstein is the antichrist.

“We kicked their ass, drank their whiskey, and took their plane” T-Shirts?

I’m a worrier. I don’t have a choice. Therefore, I will be worried before and during each game.

…I was born the year the Giants arrived here.
…my last WS game was Oct 17, 1989.
…My three sons and I will be lucky enough to be in park for Game 1
…I should be focused on work right now, but I can’t. I really can’t…
…tomorrow will likely be the same…

This waiting game sucks, I want it to be Wednesday already.

Game night I’m a mess, it’s all part of the fun.

Not worried about Bengie Molina, I’m sure somewhere in the depths of AT&T Park Chris Ray is in an interrogation room getting “debriefed” by Boch and Righetti right now.

One thing I’ve noticed this year is we seem to have good success against other teams aces. It’s when we face the occasional Manny Parra or Ian Kennedy types we have no answers.

I worked 6 straight days last week, and didn’t finish until a few minutes before Game 6 first pitch. Did you know Game 6 lasted 3 hours and 41 minutes? I had no idea. It felt like it went by so fast. When it was done I was just off the charts with happiness. It’ll take me another day at least to recover.

I feel like a dog standing on a toolbox in the back of a pickup truck doing 90mph around a corner just trying to hang on for dear life.

Flashback to the Summer of 2002.

I’m having dinner at a friend’s house—the guy’s a huge Giants fan, seems to know nearly everything there is to know about every player from the major leagues down to the instructional leagues. At that point, the Giants are kind of bobbling along around .500, and when the subject of the team’s play comes up, he says, “They’re nothing special.” Four months later, they’re in the World Series, I remind him of what he said, and he says: “I didn’t expect them to make it this far, but now that they have, they may as well win the damn thing.” Which, of course, they failed to do, in a manner so spectacular that Ken Burns devoted a good 5 minutes of The Tenth Inning to it, complete with sad, tinkling piano.

Now it’s eight years later, and I feel the same way now that he did then. I didn’t expect them to make it this far, but now that they have, they may as well win the damn thing. That’s how I feel.

Which may be good/bad, considering I finished my first go-around with midterms last week.

I’m pretty sure I’ll wet the bed with my tears after Wednesday night; sad/happy tears, I won’t know. Until then, it seems like the only way I’ll keep a level head is by learning how to play SC2 (thanks, roomie!).

As for the caption, I’ll bite on the obvious and go with “Livin’ on a Prayer”. It’s technically two-thirds of the way there, but it still feels like it’s a halfway thing.

Got 2 tickets in Section 317 Row 12 for game 2. Going with little sister. Beyond excited.