BROWNNOSE
BOOTLICKER
All this week, the FanHouse staff will look back at the most significant baseball storylines of 2010.
The San Francisco Giants gave as much as they got, and gave some more, and got some more, and on and on it went until the wonderfully reciprocal thing among ballclub and fans and the baseball gods mushroomed into the sport's best story of 2010.
The team's wild journey ultimately brought San Francisco its first World Series trophy, which inspired other journeys from everyday folks. Giants fans euphoric over the end of a decades-long World Series drought traveled from both near and far to the sun-washed city. Converging from as far as other states and Southern California, some Giants fans, making like Sal Paradise in "On The Road," had driven all day and all night. A Giants victory parade beckoned. Upon arrival, grownups cried and spoke in disbelief.
It was all pretty ridiculous, and somehow organic and authentic in these overly packaged times. And the confetti and sappy talk on that November day, well, one would've thought it was a presidential inauguration.
"This day is a blessed reminder of a dream fulfilled for all of us," Giants president Larry Baer said after tens of thousands of fans crowded into the city.
Waves don't begin in deserts, but this one did. It slowly gathered force in Scottsdale, Ariz., last February when Giants pitchers such as Tim Lincecum, Matt Cain, Jonathan Sanchez and Madison Bumgarner limbered up their arms. Come late August, the Giants would trail the National League West-leading Padres by 6 1/2 games, but their arms still had plenty of life in them.
Giants pitchers next went on a historic roll that would clinch the West in the 162nd game (decided by Sanchez's arm and bat), then engulf the Braves and the Phillies in the playoffs and come crashing to shore on a warm night in Arlington, Texas, when Brian Wilson, the team's wacky closer, threw a final strike into the mitt of the team's absurdly able rookie, Buster Posey.
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The Giants were world champions for the first time since Willie Mays led them in 1954 at the Polo Grounds in New York. Better yet, it was their first championship for San Francisco, where the Giants had arrived to a ticker-tape celebration decades ago in anticipation of the 1958 season.
In the Texas ballpark, just as in the Philadelphia ballpark and the Atlanta ballpark in the National League playoffs, chants of "Let's Go Giants" rang from the orange-and-black-clad fans gathered behind the visiting dugout as Giants players nearby celebrated the clinching victory.
More sappy talk, next, the Giants insisting that their fans had put some of the essential "go" into Giants.
"I couldn't be happier for them," said manager Bruce Bochy. "They helped us get here. Their energy, enthusiasm down the stretch, in the playoffs -- it's been crazy in the ballpark, around the city. I know how bad they wanted it. The players, they wanted it as bad for the fans as themselves because they know how long it's been."
During the pennant race, Giants third base coach Tim Flannery marveled at the energy that Giants crowds were pumping into the team's bayside ballpark and the team itself. Giants crowds already were among the loudest and most attentive in baseball, but something had kicked into a higher gear during the 2010 season, Flannery said. Their energy wasn't always welcomed when expressing disapproval, but it had become a force of nature, Flannery likening the energy to one of his favorite surfing spots off Fiji.
"The crowd energy at San Francisco is like surfing Cloud Break every night -- loud, demanding," he said. "The fans have heart, and sometimes cut deep, and they can help. The intensity of surfing there in Fiji -- San Francisco is that."
The San Francisco Giants gave as much as they got, and gave some more, and got some more, and on and on it went until the wonderfully reciprocal thing among ballclub and fans and the baseball gods mushroomed into the sport's best story of 2010.
The team's wild journey ultimately brought San Francisco its first World Series trophy, which inspired other journeys from everyday folks. Giants fans euphoric over the end of a decades-long World Series drought traveled from both near and far to the sun-washed city. Converging from as far as other states and Southern California, some Giants fans, making like Sal Paradise in "On The Road," had driven all day and all night. A Giants victory parade beckoned. Upon arrival, grownups cried and spoke in disbelief.
It was all pretty ridiculous, and somehow organic and authentic in these overly packaged times. And the confetti and sappy talk on that November day, well, one would've thought it was a presidential inauguration.
"This day is a blessed reminder of a dream fulfilled for all of us," Giants president Larry Baer said after tens of thousands of fans crowded into the city.
Waves don't begin in deserts, but this one did. It slowly gathered force in Scottsdale, Ariz., last February when Giants pitchers such as Tim Lincecum, Matt Cain, Jonathan Sanchez and Madison Bumgarner limbered up their arms. Come late August, the Giants would trail the National League West-leading Padres by 6 1/2 games, but their arms still had plenty of life in them.
Giants pitchers next went on a historic roll that would clinch the West in the 162nd game (decided by Sanchez's arm and bat), then engulf the Braves and the Phillies in the playoffs and come crashing to shore on a warm night in Arlington, Texas, when Brian Wilson, the team's wacky closer, threw a final strike into the mitt of the team's absurdly able rookie, Buster Posey.
.
The Giants were world champions for the first time since Willie Mays led them in 1954 at the Polo Grounds in New York. Better yet, it was their first championship for San Francisco, where the Giants had arrived to a ticker-tape celebration decades ago in anticipation of the 1958 season.
In the Texas ballpark, just as in the Philadelphia ballpark and the Atlanta ballpark in the National League playoffs, chants of "Let's Go Giants" rang from the orange-and-black-clad fans gathered behind the visiting dugout as Giants players nearby celebrated the clinching victory.
More sappy talk, next, the Giants insisting that their fans had put some of the essential "go" into Giants.
"I couldn't be happier for them," said manager Bruce Bochy. "They helped us get here. Their energy, enthusiasm down the stretch, in the playoffs -- it's been crazy in the ballpark, around the city. I know how bad they wanted it. The players, they wanted it as bad for the fans as themselves because they know how long it's been."
During the pennant race, Giants third base coach Tim Flannery marveled at the energy that Giants crowds were pumping into the team's bayside ballpark and the team itself. Giants crowds already were among the loudest and most attentive in baseball, but something had kicked into a higher gear during the 2010 season, Flannery said. Their energy wasn't always welcomed when expressing disapproval, but it had become a force of nature, Flannery likening the energy to one of his favorite surfing spots off Fiji.
"The crowd energy at San Francisco is like surfing Cloud Break every night -- loud, demanding," he said. "The fans have heart, and sometimes cut deep, and they can help. The intensity of surfing there in Fiji -- San Francisco is that."