1979. That's the year I first remember really following the Giants. I was not quite 8 years old and my dad and I would watch the games on the old television. Reception was horrible by today's standards, the rabbit ears would need to be periodically adjusted and I was the remote control. But we watched and we cheered and we moaned.
We watched McCovey and Jack Clark, Darrell Evans and Johnnie LeMaster. We watched Vida Blue and "The Count", and my oh my that team was bad. But we watched anyway because it was baseball and it was the Giants. Baseball has always been like that for so many of us. Especially for Giants fans. You watch and you cheer. Not because you're a fair weather fan and they are leading the league in every imaginable stat, but because you're a Giants fan and you live and die with their every success. . . . and failure.
We watched and suffered through '85 and the 100 loss season. We watched and were thrilled in '87 as they took the West only to watch the Cardinals beat them in the LCS. We watched them get swept in '89 by the A's and sat dumbfounded in '93 as they won 103 regular season games. . . . . and missed the post season. But hey, that was the type of heart break that came in the package of being a Giants fan.
We froze our butts off in the middle of July as we watched them play at Candlestick and we marveled at the beauty of Pac Bell. And all along we wondered, would it ever happen?
31 years of frustration. 31 years of gut wrenching losses. 31 years of also rans and could've beens. Somehow, none of that seems to matter at this moment. I'm having a hard time remembering the angst of '89 and the nausea of 2002. It will all come back in the next few days or weeks, but right now it's gone because the San Francisco Giants are World Champions. The San Francisco Giants are World Champions. The San Francisco Giants are World Champions.
Dad's been gone for a little over two years now, but damn he would have loved this.
The San Francisco Giants are World Champions.