In case you were wondering what to expect.
Surprisingly, museum stores are the best place to buy Giants gear.
Stop breaking my heart.
I tend to love other people’s parents, but my pal’s mom really goes above and beyond:
She may be in Michigan, but my mom still has the spirit!
Damn, someone already thought of that?
Do, click through.
Here,
in Lower Western Addition/Middle Haight/Mid-City, it’s all buzzing vuvuzelas.
Really, you didn’t throw those out after the World Cup? So conservationist, so San Francisco.
The Giants return at 2.30 AM
So, anyone have a car?
Tuesday’s voting crib sheet can wait.
Even the punk bartender at Molotov’s was wearing a Giants shirt under his studded leather. I told you it would bring this city together like nothing else. Sports, who knew?
San Francisco’s having a party.
And everyone’s invited.
Sure, even you.
The indelible beauty of toilet paper, thrown with the gusto of the newly empowered Giants fans: do not underestimate the simple poetry of these absurdities as the wind whips our shouts and chants to the other side of the city, where surely the same scene is mirrored in orange and black.
Rejected Examiner Headlines (2010 Giants World Series Edition)
Tickle Texas!
Touch Texas (inappropriately)!
Touché, Texas!
Taser Texas!
Tapeworm Texas!
It was a nice run, Examiner.
But in all seriousness, they have to do it. My hockey-fan gamewatching partner says it’s a matter of politics: if Texas wins, they’ll claim it’s for god and country, America fuck yeah. Texas et al. wants to think that if San Francisco wins, it’s a triumph of pot smokers and fornicators.
The way we see it, it’s but a long-overdue win for a good team that pulled it together—which is plenty American for anyone who grew up over-watching baseball movies.
The real America is the dizzy spectrum of the Giants: talented rookies, powerful Colombians and Dominicans, Christian punks, savants. Buster Posey’s full name is Gerald “Buster” Dempsey Posey III and it would seem that he has been playing baseball since exiting the womb. Ross wanted to be a rodeo clown, Bumgarner’s into roping, and Wilson loves the UFC: what’s more American than that?
Texas, San Francisco is America, too.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some tofu pups that need to be swaddled in a tube of biscuit dough.
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