Friday, October 01, 2010
Clinch Day at the Yard?
When I embarked on a road trip to Las Vegas last week, the Giants were up a mere half-game in first place on the Padres and heading into an uberscary series against the Rockies in uberscary Coors Field. A series win against the Rockies meant that Colorado was ostensibly done, but in the Theater of the Absurd that is Coors Field, you figure that would be an impossible task. My goal? Get so rip-roaring drunk in Vegas that I either forgot about the Giants series, or didn't care. I was going to be happy if the Giants won just one game of the three.
Unfortunately, Giants obsession is infinitely stronger than copious amounts of booze. There I was, on the road, from Sacramento to Mammoth, and from the death-defying backroad passes of Death Valley to Las Vegas, stuck obsessively checking my phone for a box score, as my phone service waned in and out. Even in Vegas, that magical wonderland where people snort coke in the urinals next to you and friendly strippers declare their undying love for you, only to break your heart an hour and $300 later, I found myself checking box scores. Things were a hazy blur as we left Vegas and headed for Joshua Tree, where the sheer majesty of Keys View and the bizarre rock formations didn't prevent me from taking a totally nerdy fanboy photo.
From there it was back up through the grimy hellstorm of rush hour traffic in LA, then up 101 along the coast through Pismo and San Luis Obispo, to a stay in Morro Bay. When I got home the next morning, I found that the Giants had won two of three, the Rockies had ceased to be a threat, Mat Latos was a doofus and an asshole, and the Giants were in the driver's seat in the NL West. Not only that, but I had nabbed tickets at the last second for Wednesday's Giants game.
Expecting a festive atmosphere, I certainly got one. With hungry Giants fans everywhere yearning for something to go crazy about, Pat Burrell delivered by launching one into the section next to us, sending the bleachers into a high-fiving frenzy. It was one of the most exciting moments of my Giants fan lifetime. With that homer, the Dbacks looked totally demoralized, and the outcome seemed inevitable.
Now I roll back into Mays Field tonight and I'm greedy. None of this delaying the inevitable BS. I want a clincher. I'll be there with 40,000 other raving mad Giants fans, screaming my head off for the first playoff berth since 2003. It's going to be a rockin' one in China Basin tonight.
Unfortunately, Giants obsession is infinitely stronger than copious amounts of booze. There I was, on the road, from Sacramento to Mammoth, and from the death-defying backroad passes of Death Valley to Las Vegas, stuck obsessively checking my phone for a box score, as my phone service waned in and out. Even in Vegas, that magical wonderland where people snort coke in the urinals next to you and friendly strippers declare their undying love for you, only to break your heart an hour and $300 later, I found myself checking box scores. Things were a hazy blur as we left Vegas and headed for Joshua Tree, where the sheer majesty of Keys View and the bizarre rock formations didn't prevent me from taking a totally nerdy fanboy photo.
From there it was back up through the grimy hellstorm of rush hour traffic in LA, then up 101 along the coast through Pismo and San Luis Obispo, to a stay in Morro Bay. When I got home the next morning, I found that the Giants had won two of three, the Rockies had ceased to be a threat, Mat Latos was a doofus and an asshole, and the Giants were in the driver's seat in the NL West. Not only that, but I had nabbed tickets at the last second for Wednesday's Giants game.
Expecting a festive atmosphere, I certainly got one. With hungry Giants fans everywhere yearning for something to go crazy about, Pat Burrell delivered by launching one into the section next to us, sending the bleachers into a high-fiving frenzy. It was one of the most exciting moments of my Giants fan lifetime. With that homer, the Dbacks looked totally demoralized, and the outcome seemed inevitable.
Now I roll back into Mays Field tonight and I'm greedy. None of this delaying the inevitable BS. I want a clincher. I'll be there with 40,000 other raving mad Giants fans, screaming my head off for the first playoff berth since 2003. It's going to be a rockin' one in China Basin tonight.
