External imageThis is why I’m a Giants fan. This exact moment. Scratch that: this is why I like stupid, grunt grunt sports in general. San Francisco, this very moment.
It’s legitimately a magical time in San Francisco right now. I have the fortune of working approximately two blocks away from AT&T/”For Christsakes, it’s PacBell” Park, and it’s been absolutely surreal. If a unicorn came around the corner and high fived me right now and said, “Go Giants”, I wouldn’t even take an earbud out. I’d just high hoove him right back and point and smile.
For people who don’t understand why people love sports so much, move to a town where this kind of thing might happen, and you’ll get it.
This team has done something to this city that is unreal. It’s even more unreal because this is San Francisco. Home of the polarizing “I hate your district NO I HATE YOUR DISTRICT LET’S MAKE OUT THOUGH BECAUSE WE BOTH LOVE SAN FRANCISCO” landscape. Hipsters hate marina guys. Marina guys hate hipsters. We judge every goddamn thing on the planet that isn’t organic, and then can’t understand why people judge the crap out of us right back (irony alert). I mean…I work down the block from a fucking artisan grilled cheese store. This town is, by no means, indicative of the rest of the American landscape. We’re just weird, and we embrace the living crap out of it.
And right now, everyone is a Giants fan. Everyone. Your grandma. That homeless guy directing you into a wide open parking spot and then expecting you to congratulate him for his non-feat with a dollar. Right now? I’d give him two. Because this town is effing electric.
You know what? To all the people who hate “bandwagon” fans? Let it go. Who cares. You know who you are? You’re the guy who liked the Kings of Leon and then got mad when everyone else did. You’re the guy who said “this band is SO good”, and then when someone said, “hey I agree” you said NO YOU DON’T ONLY I CAN LIKE THEM. That’s silly. Knock it off. Let them in. Buy them a beer, or a kombucha. Whatever it is. I don’t care. Just let this happen and stop Eeyoring the crap out of our unlimited happiness we’re on the brink of.
I love sports for this reason. Every now and then, everyone just stops being so damn frumpy and acts like our city is just a big college. You ever been to a college town that really loves their team a scary amount? Like, Ray Finkel’s Mom amounts? It’s great. You know why? Because everyone is just actually nice to each other. You have a common bond. And whether or not it’s a bond that is contingent upon a guy throwing a ball or waving a wooden stick, it’s an awesome bond.
I love this time. I find myself smiling at people when I buy coffee. I see my friends who bicker over ridiculous crap calling each other and inviting each other to hang out. I see strangers hugging because a guy from the Dominican Republic is hitting sac fly’s. Marina guys are wearing the same goddamn t-shirt hipster guys are wearing. HOW CAN YOU NOT BOTTLE THIS MOMENT UP? We’re in a vacuum. Enjoy it.
I have grown up with the Giants. My brother and I spend half of our “that’s so adorable that they are ACTUALLY best friends” time talking to each other about them; it genuinely brings us together. It’s in the blood of my family, and I was taught from a very young age to bring a blanket to the ‘stick because it’s never a comfortable temperature in this city. My mother and father brought our family together with this ridiculous game. If you never lived here or you’re just getting on the bandwagon? Let me be your creepy metaphorical father and open the front door and hand you a beer. Welcome. We love you, too.
So fear the Just for Men beard. Embrace the fact that every woman in town is in love with the good guy (THAT NEVER HAPPENS IN REAL LIFE). Embrace the fact that we have a pitcher that resembles one of the greatest characters in film history, one Mitch Kramer (he even smokes pot…how San Francisco is that?). Embrace it.
No matter what happens, San Francisco, embrace it. This is why we like sports. Because they are ridiculous, and they make people really happy when we’d usually just bide the time complaining about what we don’t like about each other.
Embrace it, San Francisco. This is why we like each other. Right now.
Fear the goddamn beard.
this is just embarrassing. It’s like you were invited to bring cupcakes to some third grader’s birthday party and you show up with this:
Petulant teen; creamed corn; tooth hat; Morrissey; taciturn neighbor; sexy senior; artichoke (good group costume, see also ramekins of mayonnaise); undead youth culture; hen-of-the-woods, fruits-of-the-forest, other suitable hyphenate; lunchlady (unisex); dad pun; Graham Greene; cooties; me; Helmet & House of Pain; PeeChee Folder; spiral-cut ham; flibbertigibbet.
Not that you can tell the difference, have you seen the fucking weather today?
Former houseguests of the Society, expect suggestion and comment cards to be mailed out at the end of the week, as I have only just discovered all the wonder and majesty that is google documents.