Personal photo taken at the train station in the morning, Nov. 2after the Giants won the World Series on Nov. 1
Let me start by saying I am not a big baseball fan. Until quite recently, I did not even know who the Giants were. I am marrying a Dodger fan. But, Giant fever bit me this year.
At work, everyone was in a tizzy the last month over the Giants. During a very important dinner with some very important diplomats, most of the dinner guests spent the entire time checking their phones every two minutes to see the score of the Giants game they were "forced" to miss. On Halloween, little kids dressed up as Giants players. Everywhere you went in the area, Giants memorabilia lined storefronts, train stations, offices. Orange and black became representative of the baseball fury instead of Halloween. Target dedicated an entire isle to Giants (and Sharks) jerseys, hats, bats, balls, toys, etc. Co-workers left work at 1:30 to either attend games or make sure they were home in time to watch them on TV. Dedication at its finest.
This reminds me so much of being 18, living in Southern California, and the Lakers winning the championship for the second year in a row. Everywhere you went, Lakers. Everyone you talked to, Lakers. Everyone from Philadelphia was a sworn enemy. Anyone not sticking Lakers flags on their car was a traitor. This was a world or excitement, of anticipation, pride, innocence. It was June in 2001, and just a couple of months later, the world would change for ever. I would leave home to start college. While in Europe, I would watch the TV as New York bled and smoked. L.A. pride turned into American pride. Lakers flags were replaced with U.S. flags. The Lakers would go on to three-peat and win the championship again at the end of the season, but by that time it was getting harder for me to find the time to watch the games, harder to get as excited. Sports mania had somehow passed me by. It's never come back in full glory, but this year I witnessed it as a disinterested onlooker instead of manic fan, and I have to say, it warmed my heart to know so many people are being so fulfilled by "their" team's win.
It is wonderful to again be living in a place that gets to celebrate a victory like this. It makes me take pride in the place I live, as if by having a celebrated sports team, my choice of where I live is somehow validated. Also, seeing the faces of Giants fans lit up with pride reminds me why sports are so important in this world -- they bring folks together, give people something to hope and live for. Two nights before the midterm elections, the Giants gave everyone what they had been waiting for for so long -- a win in the world series! The morning after the elections, the Giants parade again gave the city and the fans something to either take their mind off the election results, or perhaps a reason to get out on the street and celebrate a two-fold win. Regardless of politics, the thousands of people who crowded the trains, the freeways, the parking lots, and the fast food restaurants today were excited, celebrating a victory that they'd had no part in. They were, simply put, happy. Nothing is bringing these folks down.
The power of vicarious happiness is pretty incredible. We may not be athletes ourselves, but when "our" team wins, we feel victorious. We may have best friends from all over the world, but in the final rounds, we protect "our" territory as if a conquering tyrant is threatening to take it over. We may not have ever met a pitcher, a quarterback, or a point guard, but we call these people by their first names, sometimes even by intimate nicknames, we have mental conversations with them, we scream at them from our peanut gallery seats or our couch, we project onto them heroics of Homeric stature, and somehow, mysteriously, we become better people in our own eyes when "our" team, "our" athlete, takes the win.
So, Go Giants! I am going to revel in the fact that I live in a place where people walking down the street have been smiling to themselves, saying hello to each other, laughing with strangers on the train, all because they are under the euphoria of a home team victory. Their happiness lets me forgive the belligerence on the train this morning when thousands of Giants fans crowded the commuter trains on the way to San Francisco for the Giants victory parade. Their happiness makes me happy.
In the spirit of sportsmanship, no matter what team you root for, the following sentiment expressed by a Giants fan and AT&T park usher who participated in the parade today sums up the glory of a hometown win:
"This is Christmas, New Year's, and your first-born all rolled into one. I'm on cloud nine."
At work, everyone was in a tizzy the last month over the Giants. During a very important dinner with some very important diplomats, most of the dinner guests spent the entire time checking their phones every two minutes to see the score of the Giants game they were "forced" to miss. On Halloween, little kids dressed up as Giants players. Everywhere you went in the area, Giants memorabilia lined storefronts, train stations, offices. Orange and black became representative of the baseball fury instead of Halloween. Target dedicated an entire isle to Giants (and Sharks) jerseys, hats, bats, balls, toys, etc. Co-workers left work at 1:30 to either attend games or make sure they were home in time to watch them on TV. Dedication at its finest.
This reminds me so much of being 18, living in Southern California, and the Lakers winning the championship for the second year in a row. Everywhere you went, Lakers. Everyone you talked to, Lakers. Everyone from Philadelphia was a sworn enemy. Anyone not sticking Lakers flags on their car was a traitor. This was a world or excitement, of anticipation, pride, innocence. It was June in 2001, and just a couple of months later, the world would change for ever. I would leave home to start college. While in Europe, I would watch the TV as New York bled and smoked. L.A. pride turned into American pride. Lakers flags were replaced with U.S. flags. The Lakers would go on to three-peat and win the championship again at the end of the season, but by that time it was getting harder for me to find the time to watch the games, harder to get as excited. Sports mania had somehow passed me by. It's never come back in full glory, but this year I witnessed it as a disinterested onlooker instead of manic fan, and I have to say, it warmed my heart to know so many people are being so fulfilled by "their" team's win.
It is wonderful to again be living in a place that gets to celebrate a victory like this. It makes me take pride in the place I live, as if by having a celebrated sports team, my choice of where I live is somehow validated. Also, seeing the faces of Giants fans lit up with pride reminds me why sports are so important in this world -- they bring folks together, give people something to hope and live for. Two nights before the midterm elections, the Giants gave everyone what they had been waiting for for so long -- a win in the world series! The morning after the elections, the Giants parade again gave the city and the fans something to either take their mind off the election results, or perhaps a reason to get out on the street and celebrate a two-fold win. Regardless of politics, the thousands of people who crowded the trains, the freeways, the parking lots, and the fast food restaurants today were excited, celebrating a victory that they'd had no part in. They were, simply put, happy. Nothing is bringing these folks down.
The power of vicarious happiness is pretty incredible. We may not be athletes ourselves, but when "our" team wins, we feel victorious. We may have best friends from all over the world, but in the final rounds, we protect "our" territory as if a conquering tyrant is threatening to take it over. We may not have ever met a pitcher, a quarterback, or a point guard, but we call these people by their first names, sometimes even by intimate nicknames, we have mental conversations with them, we scream at them from our peanut gallery seats or our couch, we project onto them heroics of Homeric stature, and somehow, mysteriously, we become better people in our own eyes when "our" team, "our" athlete, takes the win.
So, Go Giants! I am going to revel in the fact that I live in a place where people walking down the street have been smiling to themselves, saying hello to each other, laughing with strangers on the train, all because they are under the euphoria of a home team victory. Their happiness lets me forgive the belligerence on the train this morning when thousands of Giants fans crowded the commuter trains on the way to San Francisco for the Giants victory parade. Their happiness makes me happy.
In the spirit of sportsmanship, no matter what team you root for, the following sentiment expressed by a Giants fan and AT&T park usher who participated in the parade today sums up the glory of a hometown win:
"This is Christmas, New Year's, and your first-born all rolled into one. I'm on cloud nine."
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