As a long-time San Franisco Giants fan (I started in 1971) I've had my share of rants about the team that I both love and despise. Love: because that's what we do with our teams. Hate: because this godforsaken, mismanaged, pathetic excuse for a franchise never fails to disappoint me.
Oh, sometimes they'll come close to fulfulling the dream, but most of the time I just sit back and wonder why I waste the time, effort and money required to engage in this morbid hobby. Each season is the same. You look up and down the roster, convince yourself that there's absolutely no way the team could be as miserable as it was the previous year, and then watch as they set out to prove you wrong.
So now, in December of 2009, I've decided to give voice to my rage. With the Hot Stove heating up and Brian Sabean ensuring us that he's going to toss around nickels like manhole covers (translation: wish for that big bat all you want but you're gonna get John Bowker), I figured this was the time to begin one fan's chronicle of a hopeless quest.
The Genesis of this exercise came about last September. You can guess the moment: Ryan Spilbourghs's shot at Coors Field that ended any reasonable hope the Giants had at making a run. I posted a rant on the Giants message board, one that was read verbatim on KNBR the next day. It got a good response, so I figured, why not? Let's try it for a year and see how it pans out. Couple that with the wife dragging me to see "Julie and Julia " (I had to turn in my man-card after that), and the path brought me here.
To give you a preview of what's to come, here's the post that started it all:
After Spilbourghs’ shot left the yard last night, my wife came out of the bedroom (where she’d been awakened by my expletive-laden tirade) to see if I was still alive. That’s how it is to be a Giants fan – someone peaks around the corner thinking, “I hope he’s still breathing. I think the Giants might have just killed him.”
It’s over. After 14 innings and a four-game debacle where the Giants HAD to perform but failed miserably, the 2009 season is dead. There may be 37 games left, but this season is over. After 39-years following this Godforsaken franchise, I know season-ending loss when I see one.
The Giants won’t catch Colorado for a simple reason -- the Rockies are better. In every phase of the game -- pitching, offense, defense, management, player acquisition – the Giants are the Rockies’ bee-yotch. Everything the Giants pay lip service to becoming, the Rockies are. That’s par for the course. The Giants talk a good game. The competition plays a good game.
So it happened again. Nothing can be as bad as Game Six in 2002, but this was close. If the Giants were a girl, you’d break up with her. You’d explain that you couldn’t take it any more and then either sleep with her sister or swear off women altogether.
There are thousands like me. We buy tickets, pay for satellite packages, wear the hats and jerseys, pony up for soggy garlic fries and overpriced beer. This is our reward -- yet another season of heartbreak.
I can’t emphasize this enough: I will die wondering why (Bruce) Bochy felt the need to let (Justin) Miller wilt to death last night (taking the season with him), why Fred Lewis continues to get at-bats in critical situations, why (Brian) Sabean overpays for stiffs like (Aaron) Rowand and (Bobby) Howry while pronouncing the team sound, or believes mediocre players like Ryan Garko are the secret to success. It boggles the mind. To have that game, and that series, get away in the manner it did was indefensible at best and catastrophically moronic at its worst. By the time Spilobourghs came to the plate, that home run wasn’t just inevitable, it was preordained.
The demise of the 2009 Giants is simple to explain. They fell short because at every level – from the front office to the team on the field – they’re overmatched. This franchise is run by people who would hit a 19 at the blackjack table because they “had a feeling”.
As for me, I feel like Andrew Golata just spent the weekend raining down blows to my protective cup. This excruciating series devoured 90 percent of the residual emotion I had left in my body. It was like seeing the ghost of 2002 appear. When Miller came into the game I KNEW the Giants were going to lose. Any reasonable Giants fan could recognize the depressing signs because we’ve been there before. Like Haley Joel Osment in “The Sixth Sense”, we know dead seasons when we see them.
Does any of this make sense? Of course not. I’m completely insane. The Giants have driven me insane – it’s official.
What makes it worse is that I have twin sons, one named McCovey no less, whom I planned to raise as Giants fans. Now I have to wonder, am I doing the right thing? I’m coming to grips with the fact that the Giants are now the pre-2004 Boston of the West Coast. There are people like myself WHO WILL DIE never having seen their team win it all. What am I setting my kids up for? Is it time to start buying them Angels gear?
There has to be accountability in the front office. The Giants have about eight players who are worth salvaging, and nobody on the coaching staff needs to return. If there aren’t wholesale changes at EVERY level, this franchise is eternally doomed.
The parallels between the Giants the cursed Red Sox are many. Sabean is Dan Duquette. Bochy is channeling Grady Little. We’ve always got a Miller or (Tim) Worrell, or (John) Bowker or Howry to play the Bob Stanley role. And we have plenty of long-suffering fans who know we’re totally screwed. It’s like being stuck in a bad marriage. You can’t get out --- ever. If Bill Neukom can’t step into the John Henry shoes and clean house, the Red Sox curse will look like a walk in the park compared to what Giants fans will endure.
I’ve followed the Giants religiously since 1971. Every year ends with a punch in the stomach. I’ve finally reached the breaking point. If these same guys (including Sabean and Bochy) are back in 2010, I won’t be. Enough. Sometimes you just have to look out for yourself.
And yet, here I am, re-upping for yet another season of heartbreak.
New posts won't appear on a regular basis in the off-season -- just when the mood strikes me. During the season I anticipate making observations after most games, provided I'm not burning someone in effigy or contemplating suicide. But until then, just a few things to ponder:
1) We should never again hear the four saddest words in sports -- "Batting cleanup, Bengie Molina".
2) We can be encouraged that, thanks to Camp Panda, Pablo Sandoval should become the most featered hitter in the Giants line-up instead of the most feared man at Hometown Buffet.
3) Somewhere locked in a vault there must a DNA test that shows Bochy and Sabean are long lost brothers (with Neukom as the secret father of both). It's certainly the only reason either still has a job.
4) Sabean has the longest tenure of any GM who hasn't won a World Series. He's the only guy outside of adult films and Fresno State football who gets rewarded for consistent mediocrity.
5) I'd gladly pay an extra dollar for the friggin' garlic fries if the Giants would add one player who couldn't file for free agency and Social Security at the same time.
Until next time.
Oh, sometimes they'll come close to fulfulling the dream, but most of the time I just sit back and wonder why I waste the time, effort and money required to engage in this morbid hobby. Each season is the same. You look up and down the roster, convince yourself that there's absolutely no way the team could be as miserable as it was the previous year, and then watch as they set out to prove you wrong.
So now, in December of 2009, I've decided to give voice to my rage. With the Hot Stove heating up and Brian Sabean ensuring us that he's going to toss around nickels like manhole covers (translation: wish for that big bat all you want but you're gonna get John Bowker), I figured this was the time to begin one fan's chronicle of a hopeless quest.
The Genesis of this exercise came about last September. You can guess the moment: Ryan Spilbourghs's shot at Coors Field that ended any reasonable hope the Giants had at making a run. I posted a rant on the Giants message board, one that was read verbatim on KNBR the next day. It got a good response, so I figured, why not? Let's try it for a year and see how it pans out. Couple that with the wife dragging me to see "Julie and Julia " (I had to turn in my man-card after that), and the path brought me here.
To give you a preview of what's to come, here's the post that started it all:
After Spilbourghs’ shot left the yard last night, my wife came out of the bedroom (where she’d been awakened by my expletive-laden tirade) to see if I was still alive. That’s how it is to be a Giants fan – someone peaks around the corner thinking, “I hope he’s still breathing. I think the Giants might have just killed him.”
It’s over. After 14 innings and a four-game debacle where the Giants HAD to perform but failed miserably, the 2009 season is dead. There may be 37 games left, but this season is over. After 39-years following this Godforsaken franchise, I know season-ending loss when I see one.
The Giants won’t catch Colorado for a simple reason -- the Rockies are better. In every phase of the game -- pitching, offense, defense, management, player acquisition – the Giants are the Rockies’ bee-yotch. Everything the Giants pay lip service to becoming, the Rockies are. That’s par for the course. The Giants talk a good game. The competition plays a good game.
So it happened again. Nothing can be as bad as Game Six in 2002, but this was close. If the Giants were a girl, you’d break up with her. You’d explain that you couldn’t take it any more and then either sleep with her sister or swear off women altogether.
There are thousands like me. We buy tickets, pay for satellite packages, wear the hats and jerseys, pony up for soggy garlic fries and overpriced beer. This is our reward -- yet another season of heartbreak.
I can’t emphasize this enough: I will die wondering why (Bruce) Bochy felt the need to let (Justin) Miller wilt to death last night (taking the season with him), why Fred Lewis continues to get at-bats in critical situations, why (Brian) Sabean overpays for stiffs like (Aaron) Rowand and (Bobby) Howry while pronouncing the team sound, or believes mediocre players like Ryan Garko are the secret to success. It boggles the mind. To have that game, and that series, get away in the manner it did was indefensible at best and catastrophically moronic at its worst. By the time Spilobourghs came to the plate, that home run wasn’t just inevitable, it was preordained.
The demise of the 2009 Giants is simple to explain. They fell short because at every level – from the front office to the team on the field – they’re overmatched. This franchise is run by people who would hit a 19 at the blackjack table because they “had a feeling”.
As for me, I feel like Andrew Golata just spent the weekend raining down blows to my protective cup. This excruciating series devoured 90 percent of the residual emotion I had left in my body. It was like seeing the ghost of 2002 appear. When Miller came into the game I KNEW the Giants were going to lose. Any reasonable Giants fan could recognize the depressing signs because we’ve been there before. Like Haley Joel Osment in “The Sixth Sense”, we know dead seasons when we see them.
Does any of this make sense? Of course not. I’m completely insane. The Giants have driven me insane – it’s official.
What makes it worse is that I have twin sons, one named McCovey no less, whom I planned to raise as Giants fans. Now I have to wonder, am I doing the right thing? I’m coming to grips with the fact that the Giants are now the pre-2004 Boston of the West Coast. There are people like myself WHO WILL DIE never having seen their team win it all. What am I setting my kids up for? Is it time to start buying them Angels gear?
There has to be accountability in the front office. The Giants have about eight players who are worth salvaging, and nobody on the coaching staff needs to return. If there aren’t wholesale changes at EVERY level, this franchise is eternally doomed.
The parallels between the Giants the cursed Red Sox are many. Sabean is Dan Duquette. Bochy is channeling Grady Little. We’ve always got a Miller or (Tim) Worrell, or (John) Bowker or Howry to play the Bob Stanley role. And we have plenty of long-suffering fans who know we’re totally screwed. It’s like being stuck in a bad marriage. You can’t get out --- ever. If Bill Neukom can’t step into the John Henry shoes and clean house, the Red Sox curse will look like a walk in the park compared to what Giants fans will endure.
I’ve followed the Giants religiously since 1971. Every year ends with a punch in the stomach. I’ve finally reached the breaking point. If these same guys (including Sabean and Bochy) are back in 2010, I won’t be. Enough. Sometimes you just have to look out for yourself.
And yet, here I am, re-upping for yet another season of heartbreak.
New posts won't appear on a regular basis in the off-season -- just when the mood strikes me. During the season I anticipate making observations after most games, provided I'm not burning someone in effigy or contemplating suicide. But until then, just a few things to ponder:
1) We should never again hear the four saddest words in sports -- "Batting cleanup, Bengie Molina".
2) We can be encouraged that, thanks to Camp Panda, Pablo Sandoval should become the most featered hitter in the Giants line-up instead of the most feared man at Hometown Buffet.
3) Somewhere locked in a vault there must a DNA test that shows Bochy and Sabean are long lost brothers (with Neukom as the secret father of both). It's certainly the only reason either still has a job.
4) Sabean has the longest tenure of any GM who hasn't won a World Series. He's the only guy outside of adult films and Fresno State football who gets rewarded for consistent mediocrity.
5) I'd gladly pay an extra dollar for the friggin' garlic fries if the Giants would add one player who couldn't file for free agency and Social Security at the same time.
Until next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Think I'm right? Think I'm crazy? Got different slant on things? Bring it on!