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The Giants are a win away from winning the World Series

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And two losses away from losing it. Let's freak out together.

Thearon W. Henderson

All the Giants have to do is not lose two games in a row on the road to a good team.

I don't even know if the Giants have lost two games in a row on the road to a good team this year. Let me just check Baseball-Reference for a second and nope you know what, that's not important right now. That's just not important. The Giants have to win one of their next two games. Seems like something that can be done. It seems like the most impossible thing in the world.

I still remember the feeling before Game 6 of the 2002 World Series. And if you think you're getting out of here without the 2002 World Series getting discussed, you're nuts. Either it's going to be a part of why this season will feel so bad or a part of why it feels so delightful. There is no 2014 without 2002. They share a couple of numbers, sure, but you'd better believe they share some DNA, too. It's like really enjoying an episode of Mexico: One Plate at a Time and knowing that dude is Skip Bayless's brother. Can't avoid it.

Something like that.

Hi, my name is Grant, and I'm rambling without a point because I'm nervous. Are you nervous? I'm nervous. Oh, right, the feeling before Game 6. I remember the mirror I was looking in, the way the light filtered through the window in my old, dingy apartment, the direction I was pointing, the smell of the place. I remember thinking how the Giants might win the World Series that night. It wasn't something I ever thought I'd see. I distinctly remember looking in that mirror and wondering if that was the night.

NOPE. Because the Giants lost two games in a row on the road to a good team.

All the Giants have to do is not lose two games in a row on the road to a good team.

Seems like there should be some sort of baseball going today. Otherwise, it's just us, alone, without any company but our own thoughts. Gets a little creepy without anything to distract us. Echo echo echo. Guess I'll just lay in bed for 27 hours.

Here's something I wouldn't have believed if you had told me before the 2010 postseason: That it's impossible to care less when the Giants get goodlucky enough to get this close, even after winning a championship. It doesn't matter if they win two championships in three years, three in five years, five in seven years, or nine in nine years. Every single one takes a combination of right players, right place, right time that seems like it'll disappear if you touch it. And it might never come again. So, yeah, it's just as important as all the others. For whatever reason, it seems more important this time, even if that's impossible. I'm pretty sure I was even more freaked out before Game 5 in Arlington for both similar and wildly different reasons. But one more win feels more important this time because I'm closer to it. It's right there. Don't you know what it would feel like to win one more game?

All the Giants have to do is not ...

Part of me wants to dissect the at-bats the Giants had against Yordano Ventura in Game 2. That would make me feel better, I think. They hit him hard enough. They had a good approach.

Another, larger part of me just wants to ramble. Here are the top five times this season I was absolutely sure the Giants season was going to end in liquid failure and toxic disappointment.

  1. When Homer Bailey threw a three-hit shutout, and the Giants were swept in a four-game series at home for the first time in AT&T Park history

  2. When the Giants scored a total of two runs in their three losses against the A's

  3. When the Dodgers outscored the Giants 17-4 in a three-game sweep at AT&T Park

  4. When the Padres swept the Giants in the third-to-last series of the season, right when the Giants were threatening to make the NL West interesting again

  5. When the Rockies won three straight games at AT&T in which the Giants had a 95-percent chance to win or better, something that has about a .013-percent chance of happening in a three-game series

Instead, Brandon Crawford hit a grand slam. Brandon Belt hit a homer in the 18th inning. There was a wild pitch. Madison Bumgarner pitched a series of masterpieces. Juan Perez couldn't get a bunt down. Matt Adams couldn't field. Michael Morse hit an unlikely home run. Travis Ishikawa hit the unlikeliest home run. Suddenly we're here like it's normal, like this is where the Giants should be, like we shouldn't be weird for rooting for one more win on the road against a good team.

Hi. How are you feeling? I'm nervous. I'm also out of things to say that would help this World Series make sense, or that would provide insight on how the rest of the World Series will go. The 2012 Cardinals didn't worry about their chances to win one game on the road against a good team. The 2002 Giants didn't, either. Neither did the 2003 Marlins, though, and that's what the Giants are shooting for.

One more win. We haven't had this feeling in a World Series before, with an off day messing with our minds and general well-being. Had one before Game 6 of the 2010 NLCS, though. Had one before Game 6 of the 2012 NLCS. Those were the days, man. Thinking about all the things that could go wrong before they all went right.

Had one before Game 6 of the **** ***** ******, too. Thinking about all the things that could go wrong before they went wrong. And I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking. I didn't think I'd care this much. Not about this team, the one that I nearly gave up on about 30 or 40 days ago.

All the Giants have to do is win one game on the road, against a good team. That's something that happens all the time. That's the hardest thing to do in professional sports from where I'm standing. Sitting. Twitching. One more win.

One more win, you bozos.