When Baseball Season starts, I often go to 4 or 5 of the first 6 games. It’s crazy, but after a long No Baseball Season, I can’t wait to get back to the park. During the season I’ll sometimes make it to 3 games in a week, which is a grind while working full time and having to drive more than an hour to get to games.
So I figured, what could be that hard about 3 playoff games in a row? I didn’t know how much longer baseball would last so like a bear eating for hibernation, I was going to every game possible. It can be a long winter with No Baseball.
What I didn’t figure on was the intensity, exhilaration, frustration, joy, stress, exhaustion and utter joy from seeing my team progress through the post-season. After three of these games in 3 days, I was so tired I had to take a nap on my office floor on Friday. It helped.
I sit with a dedicated bunch of fans who have grown close over the last couple of years. We know the game and players well and we moan, cry, laugh and cheer together. We encourage other fans to put on their rally caps, instruct the usher-of-the-day that their job is to high-five us at the right time, and make sure we know who will be at the next game. We keep in touch between games, especially the important ones.
It’s a motley group. To my left are Lincoln and Jane, originally from Chicago but die-hard Giants fans who keep score at every game and are not afraid to express their feelings or opinions. Lincoln worries a lot, and at times has looked like he was going to pass out. Jane gets just as emotional with an occasional expletive, appropriately placed.
To my right sits Joan, retired, originally from New York who was a fan before the team moved West. She worries as much as Lincoln, but gets quiet and has to remember to keep breathing while she chews on her rally rag. She also does a lot of praying. Juanita and Lorraine sit in front of Joan — they appear to be sweet and innocent but have led Joan astray more than once with after-game martinis. I have a core group of friends who come to games with me, starting with Bob who has shared tickets with me since Candlestick. Like all of us, he suffers through torturous games.
Bob went to Game 2 of the National League Championship in my seats while I sat elsewhere, and started this series of emails before Game 4:
Bob: Really missed my place between you guys last night – what a game, even if the weirdness remains. Take care of business for us tonight, OK? Go GIANTS!!
Joan: It was beyond crazy. We’ll do our best tonight. Go Giants!
Carolyn: Who’s bringing the defibrillator? We may need it again.
Jane & Lincoln: I will, with sedatives and oxygen.
Bob: I thought it was martinis? [a reference to Joan's after-game escapades with Juanita and Lorraine]
Carolyn: So we’ve got oxygen, sedatives, a defibrillator, beer, martinis, prayers and as those guys behind us last night were saying, “Let Pablo Eat” - there’s ball park food! I also made more ‘YES!’ hands. Bob, get yourself a standing room only ticket and come stand behind us. 314 is apparently where all the fun will happen tonight.
Joan: Yeah Bob. I’ll let you sit in my seat on and off too. Do it! It’s too much fun to miss. Heck. A bunch of the cooks came out and stood behind us last night.
Bob: Sighhh… work commitment.
Carolyn: You can always get another job.
Then after the game . . .
Bob: Whose got it better than us? NOBODY!!!!!! Whoo hoo!!! Thanks guys – perfect game. Hope you’re out doing something with all the stuff you had on hand.
Joan: Heading home. I’d have loved to party a bit, but folks have to work tomorrow and we’re flat exhausted from the last few days. Extra innings, come from behind victories, bottom of the ninth heroics. I’m going to sleep in tomorrow. See you at the Series.
Yes indeed. See you all at the Series! We’ll be ready.