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The Giants failed to earn the illustrious Bridge Trophy

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Though this fact may cause great abashment, it must be reported with honesty

San Francisco Giants v Oakland Athletics
The pain of seeing it in their hands is inexpressible
Photo by Jason O. Watson/Getty Images

Ah, alas! Ah, cruel fate! It would seem that our beloved Giants of San Francisco, whose baseballing efforts over the past several months have inspired such hopes of adequacy, have fallen short in their goal of acquiring the esteemed Bridge Trophy.

How shall we, the devotees of said Behemoths, deal with such disappointment? Shall we engage with rending of garments and gnashing of teeth? Shall we curse the very heavens that have seen fit to give us life? Or shall we congratulate our cross-Bay rivals in their good fortune and better play to have won this Hallowed Distinction?

For of all the awards in sport, this is surely the most coveted, the most venerable. What other citation can boast of the history and grandeur of the East Span Souvenir; what medal or keepsake occupies such a place of honor in the hearts of millions? Legend has it that Connie Mack himself sold his secondborn to Beelzebub for just a glimpse of what would one day be this sacred prize. On his deathbed, he is said to have told his eldest “I could have touched it, but instead I kept you.”

The six most recent baseball contests have been hardscrabble affairs, with the competitors from both squadrons battling to the last. The two Clubs would oft exchange blows, with final outcomes in doubt until the concluding moment, the ultimate fate of each man in each dugout resting with but a few of the two-and-a-half score available to enter the field of play.

But in the end, much as it may aggrieve us, hateful as it might sound to our ears, the Athletic contingent hailing from the Land of Oaks did rightfully earn the fabled Overpass Accolade. It shall rest in a place of honor in their Coliseum, available for all to see and celebrate their great triumph. Should bitterness or anguish course through your veins upon hearing this, abate! Contests of sport are designed to produce victors, and though our dear Colossi succumbed, let it not be said that they lacked fortitude. Instead, it was the capricious hand of Fate, who in her Wisdom, did deem our very rivals to be worthy of her favor.

How shall we survive without the Pontoon Laurels in our possession? Cherished friends, we must find meaning in each other and not honors. It is only through unity that future followers of the Goliaths shall have the advantage of victory. Let not ennui slacken your efforts to support your Faction, for despite pitfalls and disappointments, we must retain our unwavering confidence that our Titans can someday unshackle themselves from the cold anchor of Failure, and instead turn themselves to a brighter path.

Life is not meaningless without the Causeway Crown. Is it less sweet? Assuredly! But we shall have an opportunity next year to turn that vinegar back to wine, alchemize that lead into gold. For now, we must bide our time. Our coveted Prize is in the hands of the enemy, and though we will unquestionably mourn this fact for the next year, the die is cast. Glory and lowliness walk hand in hand, and for the next year we shall have no choice but to content ourselves with the latter.