"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," has never applied more to the first-place San Francisco Giants.
Last night's game against the Florida Marlins was an emotional roller-coaster, exactly the sort of contest we Giants fans have come to love. It had everything --a thrilling 9th inning comeback, bench player heroics -- even the presence of an Internet phenom.
The finale, however, was nothing short of tragic: In the 12th, Scott Cousins crashed into Buster Posey at home plate to score the winning run. Watching the play from the stands, a series of images reminiscent of a William Carlos Williams poem flashed by:
throw to the plate
no, ball's lose!
Buster motionless. Not getting up.
Up to then, the blog post I’d been writing in my head had a much happier theme: Bay Area baseball is beautiful. Even in the cheap seats, we were ecstatic, my mom regaling me with tales of Juan Marichal, his 16 inning duel with Warren Spahn, his infamous attack on John Roseboro. When the Giants tied it up in the bottom of the ninth, I was just about beside myself with joy. The boys were performing miraculously, and I was surrounded by a typically raucous and motley Bay Area crowd -- guys wearing camoflauge and workboots, hipsters sporting chic glasses, kids with fake beards. It was one of those rare I-love-this-sport, I-love-my-city, life-is-beautiful moments. (All without the benefit of alcohol, too.)