Though they had to do it in their usual fashion – namely, trying to give aneurysms to as many fans as possible – the Giants made it. It still seems like the weirdest dream that I’ve had in a while, and if someone had told me way back in March as I set out for Scottsdale that the winners of this year’s World Series would survive two drug suspensions, less-than-reliable starting pitching, the loss of their closer and the loss of a reliable outfielder, I would be amazed.
If they added in that said team would also have to depend on an overweight third baseman, a local kid at shortstop, a catcher recovering from a badly broken leg, and a mixed bag of non-roster invitees, free agents, and late-season trade acquisitions, I’d tell them they were crazy. And lastly, if I were told that this highly unlikely squad would outlast their high-spending rivals to the south, would survive six playoff elimination games, and would go on to sweep the expected victors in one of the most unexpected World Series results in some time, I would ask them if they wanted help writing the screenplay.
Because that’s what this sounds like to me, folks – a movie. Granted, they would have to rewrite the ending a little bit, because as far as baseball goes this year’s Series was actually kind of a snoozer – with the exception of Game 4, when a strong gust of wind helped remind the Tigers that hey, they actually can hit.
Oh, and due to the short duration of the Series, I didn’t actually get a chance to get started on any of my craft projects. Oh well.
When Sergio Romo – or as I refer to him, Junior Beard – clocked that final out, I let out a primal roar of my own (flu be damned), jumped up from my couch and engaged in a victory dance that is probably best left undescribed in this space. I don’t want to scar your minds, so just know that there was dancing. I took a quick break to text Felicia with the obligatory “WOOOOOOOOOOO!” message and to watch the incredibly awkward initial trophy presentations, then did some more spastic dancing and then headed upstairs to get online and buy some T-shirts for a few fans on my gift list. Because apparently my team’s victory turns me into Oprah like that.
I stayed up a little while longer to read some news articles, posted up a few things online, and then I went to bed. I fell asleep, content in the aftermath of a season well played, listening to the patter of rain and the initial gusts of wind that presaged the arrival of Hurricane Sandy.
Yes – if anyone had told me that the Giants I went to watch at Spring Training would last this long and would eventually win it all, I would have thought they were absolutely insane. And since I can’t make the trip to Scottsdale next spring due to work obligations, I cherish those memories all the more. I have the autograph hanging on my wall of a pitcher who spent time in Japan and in the Venezuelan Winter League in the hopes of revitalizing a floundering career, who then turned All-Star and who would later help carry the Giants through to a league pennant and a Series trophy. I held a 2010 championship ring in my hand for a few minutes and stared at it in wonder, little imagining that this team would soon earn another.
Thank you, guys, for consistently proving me wrong.