Wednesday, October 27, 2010

When hippies have a baseball team...

Baseball fever has struck San Francisco.  The Giants are in the World Series.

This has come as much of a surprise to most residents of the area who weren't really aware that San Francisco had a baseball team...or that there is a sport called baseball.

But they seem to have - after likely inhaling large quantities of pot - adapted quite well to the idea.

This is a city that prides itself on many things - the intellectuals, the liberals, the pot, the tree huggers, the techies, the arts, the pot, the environmentalists...the liberal intellectual tree-hugging art-loving environmentally-savvy pot-smoking techies...

When you ask your average sports fan to name the greatest sports cities, however, chances are San Francisco is not going to be at the top of the list.

After all, it's hard to swing a bat when you're high.  (Pitching is apparently an entirely different story.)

The city is exited about the Giants.  Everybody wears orange.  Giants flags flutter proudly from the back of the city's fire trucks.  Coit Tower glows with orange lights.

The local newscasters are giddy.  OMG, they have something to talk about besides shootings in Oakland and fog!

Now, I'm not a fan of the local news reporters anyway - we have one or two that would make Ron Burgundy jealous - but hosting the World Series has seemingly pushed them over the edge of reason and good taste.  Case in point...I watched a report the other night about the "cultural differences between Texas and San Francisco".  Right out of the box, the over-excited reporter deducted that the difference was, and I quote, "gays and pot."  Seriously...gays and pot?!  So on the flip side, did his Texas counterpart deduct that the difference was "steers and queers"?

He then went on to - not kidding - interview the homeless people on their thoughts on the Giants.  It went something like...

Reporter to homeless man:  So how about those Giants!  Are you a Giants fan?

Homeless man:  Dude, can you spare some change?

Reporter:  Have you seen lots of Giants fans out here on the street?

Homeless man:  Do you have any food?

Reporter:  Will you be heading down to AT&T Park to enjoy the excitement of the crowds during the World Series?

Homeless man:  Do you have any pot?

I wish I was kidding.

Candace got me thinking about the differences between the Ranger fans and the Giants fans.  Go here for her observations on deer antlers and the "claw".  Let's examine the San Francisco side of the story.

The panda hat.

Adults wearing stuffed bear heads.  This is homage to Pablo Sandoval, the Giants third baseman who is lovingly referred to as the "Kung Fu Panda".

I don't get it.  Pandas are fat and slow and don't do much except eat and shit.  Frankly, I think this is a uniquely west coast passive-aggressive way to make fun of the fat kid on the team...but who am I to judge?

My friend, S, who is my friend despite this look.

San Diego Zoo panda taking a dump...not exactly the symbol of stealth and speed

The beard.

At some point towards the end of the regular season, Giants pitcher, Brian Wilson, started growing a beard in solidarity or something stupid like that and dyed it shoe-polish black.  So Giants fans decided it would be fun and stylish to attach foam beards to their faces....or tape them...or glue them...or whatever seemed sensible after a bowl and a bag of Cheetos.

They carry signs that scream "Fear the Beard!", which, like the strange choice of the claw or the deer antlers in Texas, doesn't really seem to inspire all that much fear.

This really speaks for itself.

And I won't even go into the "Jersey Shore Fist Pump" dance that is featured between innings.  

I think it's fair to say that both cities have lost their fucking minds.  But in a week or so, Texans will remember that they actually shoot deer and San Franciscans will remember that foam beards are not biodegradable, and both will recover from their World Series hangovers and return to their roots.

Except by the time the World Series is over, pot may be legal in California and San Francisco probably won't remember any of it anyway.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Jane has baseball post-traumatic stress disorder

I haven't been around lately.  I admit it.  I've been a bad blogger.

It's all baseball's fault.  Stupid playoffs.

Baseball is an agonizingly long season.  My boyfriend, the Boy, leaves for spring training in February.  If his team sucks, he is done by early October.  Unfortunately, his team is pretty ok.  Which means that - depending on how far they go into the postseason - I don't get the Boy back until late October/early November.

This year they made it to the playoffs.  So my October has been a whirlwind of travel and baseball games.  I think I beat my own record this year with 5 games on two coasts in one span of 6 days.  Combine that with work and single-parenting and now the cold from hell and I think I'm officially brain dead.

My October has had the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.  I have enjoyed the obnoxious but mostly friendly fans of my team and the obnoxious but mostly angry fans of the visiting team (which is - mostly - how it should be).  I have been hugged and high-fived by some strangers and yelled at and flipped off by others.  I have had to explain new interesting words to the Princess.

I have flown across country in the middle of the night to get to the next game.  I have driven endless miles back and forth to the stadium.  I stayed up late and got up early.  Ate erratically, drank occasionally.

I had a blast.

I am officially exhausted.

But the Boy will be home soon.  And we can be exhausted together.

And since I'm tired and creatively brain-dead and have nothing really constructive to say at the moment anyway, I leave you with a picture I took this summer during my trip to LA.  It has absolutely positively nothing to do with baseball.

I give you George, my tranny Lego bodyguard, at the Hollywood monument to his hero.

George - overcome with bliss