So, the Giants won the World Series. That's a pretty fucking big deal for a number of reasons. Three rings in five years coming back in game seven from a 0-10 loss in game six. Pretty amazing stuff. Not to mention that I currently reside in San Francisco, so call me biased for hoping to partake in another World Series parade and celebrate with the great people of this awesome city. I also throughly enjoy sticking it to all of the Giants haters, a population of which seems to be irritatingly growing by the minute. But none of these things are reasons I'm super pumped on this win.
Let me begin by saying I am not a competitive person by nature (except when it comes to a wedding bouquet toss in which case I'm a fucking BEAST). I'm not athletic nor have I ever really loved sports. I grew up watching my sisters play softball and basketball so I know the games pretty well but you would never catch me quoting stats or making any form of insightful opinions when it comes to professional sports. When I moved to San Francisco I decided to faux adopt The Giants as my main team, much to the dismay of my entire die-hard A's fan family. Games are fun to watch, the atmosphere is always exciting and hey... every major league stadium has nachos right? What's not to love?
Most fortunately, my best bitch Kendall (thereafter referred to as "Mija") has shared season tickets amongst her family. She most kindly invited me to this season's Opening Day and because I'm not an idiot and I know enough about baseball to understand Opening Day is a pretty big deal, I much obliged. After several glasses of champagne and a big first season win, I was hooked. You see, Mija and I work together and you can often find us cruising around the city attached at the hip while not in the office. When you spend that much time with another person, and Mija is a huge Giant's fan, you learn a lot. Having gone to several games throughout the season together, we started talking baseball. Well, let me rephrase that... Mija talked baseball and I just kind of listened. Fast forward to the Wildcard series and much to everyone's surprise, including myself, I started talking baseball back.
I learned long ago that you never tell Mija no. If you tell her you don't want to do something, she will somehow catfish you into doing it anyways. When Mija wanted to watch the NLCS series at the bars in SF, my inner introvert was thinking, "OH AWESOME! A bar packed full of people screaming and touching me. Nope. Not happening." But Mija did her Mija thing and I found myself at Green's Bar on Polk Street. Several Budlights later, I started loathing some loud-mouth Cardinals fan in a jean skirt (are jean skirts still a thing?) and I was100% invested. From that point on I soon began biting my nails, wearing certain clothing out of superstition and *GASP* watching an entire game, alone, by myself, clapping, screaming, drinking beer. Who does that?? Apparently me.
I was lucky enough to be at AT&T Park when the Giant's clinched the NLCS and it was legitimately one of the most awesome experiences I've ever had. This game was on a Thursday. That Saturday I was in Sacramento for a wedding so I decided to drive an extra hour and see my grandpa whom, I most embarrassingly admit, I do not see nearly enough. What you must understand is that my grandpa is one of the biggest Giants fans I know. When I picture my grandpa, I automatically see a black and orange cap on his cute little head. When I walked into the room of his nursing home and said hello (I surprised him, he didn't know I was coming) the first thing out of his mouth was, "Did you go to the game on Thursday?" When I told him yes he responded with a smile and a,"that's my girl." Heart = melted. We sat for over an hour talking about the game and the tough road ahead with the Royals. I was having an educated conversation about the Giants with my grandpa and while we sat there holding hands and talking about how Posey is due for a homerun and how Mad Bum is a force to be reckoned with, it occurred to me that this was a moment I would remember forever.
What I hadn't previously mentioned was that two of the season ticket seats that we frequented this season had previously belonged to Mija's grandma. She used to come to every game, in those very seats and cheer on her boys year after year. Mija's grandma passed away of ALS in July of 2012 shortly before the Giants clinched the series. The passion Mija has for the Giants goes way beyond a love of baseball. It's a way of carrying on her grandma's legacy.
I guess this is a long-winded way of saying that to me, this is more than just a game. The nachos are great. And the beer is good. But win or lose, the game is about remembering grandma, building memories with grandpa, spending time with friends, and not killing Cardinals fans. This third championship has painted a huge target on the backs of the Giants this next season and inevitably, haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate. But the next time you want to criticize my team, remember that I don't care. And screw you.
That said, Go Giants!
