Having spent my formative years in the Los Angeles basin I
have a number of old friends who are fans of the Los Angeles Dodgers. If ever
there were proof that peaceful co-existence between differing points of view is
attainable I would submit those friendships with me as exhibit one. But now I’d like to take that one step further
and ask them to root for the Giants in this year’s World Series.
Here’s why.
This year’s Giants are a team of misfits, outcasts, might-have-beens,
and over achievers with a few genuine stars thrown in to balance everything
out. They have been thrown down to the mat and stomped on more than a few times
this year; dismissed, dismayed, and told to disappear and yet here they are,
champions of the National League. They came back not once but twice from the
brink of elimination and have now won six straight games when facing the end of
the season. They have banded together around a rallying speech given by a guy
who only joined the team mid-season and that could have been written by Shakespeare.
They are in fact the band of brothers and more so they are the dysfunctional
family that we all are spawned from, to whit:
The Golden Children: Buster Posey and Matt Cain
The Uncles Who Took a While to “Find Themselves”: Marco Scutaro
and Ryan Vogelsong
The Quiet Intense Older Brother: Hunter Pence
The Goofy Foot Younger Brother: Tim Lincecum
The Fun loving Cousins: Pablo Sandoval and Sergio Romo (filling
in for Brian Wilson in more than one way)
The Uncle Who Learned His Lesson the Hard Way: Barry Zito
The Happy to be Out of the Abusive Household Adopted
Brother: Angel Pagan
The Caboose Twins: Brendon Crawford and Brandon Belt
The Disappointing Son: Melky Cabrera
And they are led by Bruce Bochy, the father who tried to
make it but fell just short so he’s turned his eye towards teaching his sons to
achieve.
In other words this Giant’s team is a microcosm of the American
family. And how they have achieved is a lesson for America. They have had every
break go against them this season. Before the season even began pitcher Guillermo
Mota was suspended 100 games for using performance enhancing drugs. They lost
their ace closer Brian Wilson in the second game of the season. Early in the
season they could pitch but not hit, then hit but not pitch. Tim Lincecum would
look like the two time Cy Young Award winner he is one day, then pitch like he
just didn't care the next. Pablo Sandoval had the hamate bone in his wrist broken
and then surgically removed which is odd enough but it’s the second time in two
years that has happened (fortunately humans only have one in each wrist so he
can’t have another removed next year). Yet they were still in the pennant race,
so they swung a couple of deals at the trading deadline; one bringing in a big
bat (Hunter Pence) at the expense of a
fan favorite (Nate Schierholtz
we hardly knew ye) and the other a slightly odd move to acquire a second
baseman fan’s didn't know we needed (Marco Scutaro). In response, Major League Baseball allowed the
Boston Red Sox to trade not one, not two, but three starting star players to
the Dodgers after the trade deadline (Note to Bud Selig: Bowie Kuhn would NEVER
have allowed that).
And then there was the Melkman.
Melky Cabrera was a first year Giant having come over from
the Kansas City Royals in the off season. While all other members of the team
were having their ups and downs, Melky was swatting out hit after hit, leading
the league in average and number of hits. His achievements inspired a group of
fans to start showing up in old fashioned milk man uniforms, all white with
orange bow ties. The Melk Man was born. It reached a fever pitch when he won
the MVP award at the All Star Game and league MVP talk ramped up. It all came
to an end when it was revealed that he was taking performance enhancing drugs
and then clumsily tried to cover it up with a bogus internet drug store scheme.
He was suspended for the rest of the season.
By all that is reasonable the Giants should rolled over and
allowed the Dodgers to overtake them. Instead they came together as families do
in a time of crisis. They pitched like there was no tomorrow and seemed to get
a key hit whenever it was truly needed. The bullpen by committee that had not
been working all season suddenly started to click. They not only held off the
Dodgers but accelerated and won the division going away. The playoffs were a miniature version of the
season. Cincinnati got to within one game of winning the series only to have
the Giants come back and win three in a row to take it. The same thing happened
to St. Louis. And in a rainstorm the likes of which we NEVER get here in the
Bay Area, the second baseman we didn't know we needed caught a pop fly off the
bat of the guy who five games earlier tried to take him out on a questionable
slide and the Giants became the champions of the National League.
Now it’s the World Series against the Detroit Tigers. This
is a Tiger team owned by the richest man in baseball. They have the soul of a
corporation. Their dismantling of the New York Yankees in the American League
championship wasn't so much an athletic achievement as a hostile takeover. They are cold, methodical, and are heavy
favorites against the Giants. It’s the chain pizza restaurant versus Sal’s
Pizzeria, the mega-mart versus the local bodega, the “corporations are people
too” versus “no one got where they are by themselves”.
So come on my bleeding Dodger blue friends, for one week you
can don some orange and black and root on your cousins from up north. We’re all
part of the same family and even though we might fuss and feud; we’re still
National League kin. They've been devastated and decimated, tried and tested and still they go on. They represent you, but more so, they are you.
