MercuryNews
The local television stations keep showing footage of the overflowing bars and the clogged streets, filled mostly with jubilant 20-something Giants fans who think they have seen torture and survived it.
Go ahead and celebrate, kids. Savor that parade. No doubt, you have seen a certain kind of torture this year, and you have earned the right to rage.
But trust those of us who have weathered the real torture of the past half-century. And be mindful that a moment like this might come along just once in a lifetime, proof of that being the many among us who have spent our lifetime waiting for the moment that has finally arrived.
It is unlikely any of the 2010 Giants can comprehend the massive exorcism they have performed for their older fans: The release from 52 years of mixed baseball memories in San Francisco, some of them good, a lot of them frustrating, but all of them ending without the ultimate prize -- a World Series title.
As a 57-year-old who latched onto the Giants at age 10 in the early 1960s, the shackles of lifelong disillusionment and disappointment are finally unbound. I got to see one. A Giants World Series win in San Francisco. One is all that was needed. I can die happy now.
As I think about that, I mourn for people I have known in my business who didn't get to see it, among them Hall of Fame longtime Giants beat writer Bob Stevens and Sports Illustrated writer Ron Fimrite. I think of former Giants broadcasters Lon Simmons and Hank Greenwald -- long-timers and great people -- who did. I can only imagine how they are feeling. And then there is Mike Murphy. The Giants' clubhouse man since they first arrived in San Francisco in 1958 will get a World Series ring on opening day next year. Murphy has seen it all -- every broken bat, every broken dream, every broken heart. I'm just guessing that when his name is announced to accept his ring next April, he might get the loudest ovation. After all, for real longtime Giants fans, there is a little part of Murph in all of us. We don't have to forget the trip down misery lane, but we can read it now and view it as history cleansed from our heretofore ghost-ridden subconscious: Willie McCovey's line drive to Bobby Richardson. The failed bunt attempt by Felipe Alou. Ralph Terry. Four straight second-place finishes under Herman Franks and one more under Clyde King. The late-September swoons of 1965 and 1969. The disallowed Dick Dietz hit by pitch that would have ruined Don Drysdale's scoreless streak. The regrettable Juan Marichal-John Roseboro incident. Braves pitcher Tony Cloninger's two grand slams in one game. Orlando Cepeda for Ray Sadecki. Willie Mays for Charlie Williams and $50,000. Gaylord Perry for Sam McDowell. George Foster for Frank Duffy and Vern Geishert. Bob Robertson's three-homer game in the '71 NLCS. Bob Johnson outdueling the fading Marichal in the same series. Dave Kingman, sold to the Mets for $150,000. All those brutally cold Candlestick nights. All those Ron Cey home runs. All those Darrell Evans foul home runs. Tommy Lasorda blowing kisses. Smilin' Steve Garvey. Beer and battery nights with Reggie Smith. The mostly lifeless Spec Richardson/Joe Altobelli years. A crowd of 851 against the Braves in '75. The rise and fall of Mike Ivie. Jack Clark for David Green, Dave LaPoint, Gary Rajsich, and, well, Jose Uribe. Rick Monday's Oct. 1 eighth-inning slam off Fred Breining in 1982. Johnnie LeMaster and his "BOO" uniform. The Frank Robinson/Jim Barr square-off. Jim Davenport's 100-loss managerial season in 1985. Andy McGaffigan, any time he faced Dale Murphy. Mike Scott, eliminating the Giants with a no-hitter in '86. Candy Maldonado's sliding NLCS Game 6 misplay in '87. Jose Oquendo, for crying out loud, going deep off Atlee Hammaker in Game 7. One Flap Down, Jeffrey Leonard, NLCS MVP "... for the losing team. Dave Dravecky's horrifying breakdown in Montreal and his subsequent arm amputation because of cancer. The 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake only minutes before Candlestick's first World Series game in 27 years. Mike Moore's double over Brett Butler's head. The four-game bludgeoning by the A's (Madison Bumgarner was just 2 months old). The 103 wins and no playoffs, in '93. Salomon Torres in Game 162. Will "the Thrill" Clark's too-quiet departure in 1994. A young Edgar Renteria's walk-off hit in Game 1 that sparked Florida's sweep of the 1997 NLDS. The one-game playoff loss at Chicago in 1998, Rod Beck saving it against his old team. The three straight losses to the Mets, including a one-hit shutout by unheralded Bobby Jones, to lose the NLDS in 2000. Five outs to go in 2002. Dusty Baker giving the ball to Russ Ortiz. Scott Spiezio going yard off Felix Rodriguez. The mind-numbing Rally Monkey thump in Games 6 and 7. J.T. Snow getting gunned down at home against Florida in the 2003 NLDS. Joe Nathan and Francisco Liriano for A.J. Pierzynski. Two-and-a-half years of the most reviled Giant ever, Armando Benitez. Horace Stoneham's near-sale to Toronto. Bob Lurie announcing he was moving to Oakland without telling Oakland. The failure of Sixth and Townsend. The failure in San Jose. Lurie's near-sale to St. Petersburg. The Croix de Candlestick. Crazy Crab. Hang In There. You Gotta Like These Kids. Real Grass, Real Sunshine, Real Baseball. Humm Baby. Team Of Dustiny. The sad, premature deaths of three Giants stalwarts: Bobby Bonds, Tom Haller, Rod "Shooter" Beck. The $126 million to Barry Zito, which could have ruined all of this. Finally, the performance-enhancement cloud hanging over the many wondrous performances and achievements of one Barry Lamar Bonds. None of these memories will go away, of course, and they shouldn't. But in the wake of this remarkable, mystical, somewhat torturous but ultimately rapturous 2010 Giants season, they won't haunt and torment anymore. They'll just give it richer perspective. Today, it's as if McCovey's line drive finally went through. And the earthquake didn't happen. And Spiezio struck out. And Snow was safe. Giants fans finally are free and fulfilled, liberated from 52 years of titleless infamy in San Francisco.
No comments:
Post a Comment