Reposting this weekend in honor of Father’s Day, and all the dads who taught us about the best game ever.

I was lucky to have had a Baseball Dad. He wasn’t the kind of father who coached or ran a team — although he was a Cub Scout leader, so we called him Leader of the Pack for a while. Instead, he made sure that my brother and I learned about the game and played it whenever we could.

The uncles – our dads

Dad was the youngest of 5 brothers who grew up in San Francisco. Back then, baseball was America’s sport and the brothers spent many hours playing it in the streets. Major League baseball hadn’t reached the West Coast yet, so they ardently followed the SF Seals of the Pacific Coast League. My cousins and I grew up hearing stories about San Francisco’s DiMaggio brothers, all center fielders, who were good enough to play in the majors. We also heard about SF native Lefty O’Doul, another prominent player and manager who has a bridge named for him next to AT&T Park.

I remember playing little-kids baseball in the backyard. Dad pitched to us, helped us hit, and showed us how to run the bases. Under his tutelage, I learned enough about the game to kind of keep up with my older cousins whenever we played at our annual family picnic. Even now, my cousins are passionate Giants fans and talk always turns to baseball at family gatherings. Our fathers taught us well, and we’ve passed that passion down to our offspring.

Family picnic, Dad in front with me and my brother, Mom in back with a glove on her head (?) and cousin Bob leaning on a bat.

Growing up, Dad and I spent many hours playing catch. We would talk for hours tossing the ball back and forth, and he passed on his Dad-wisdom in a way that didn’t feel preachy. He taught me some of the finer techniques of playing, including how to hit fungoes. I spent many hours after school hitting small green apricots over the fence — sorry if I hit your car! — and because of that, I was one of the best hitters in the pick-up game the girls in my 6th, 7th, and 8th grade class played during recess and lunch. Back then, there was no organized way for girls to play baseball so learning from your Dad and kicking the boys off the field during recess was our only alternative.

Around that time, magic happened: San Francisco got its own Major League team! Suddenly, those inconsequential backyard games had meaning. We could pretend we were Mays, McCovey or Marichal, or any one of those great players from the early SF Giants teams. We heard baseball on the radio every weekend while working or playing in the yard. Every neighbor had the game on, so we listened in stereo.

But most importantly, it increased the deep bond I already had with Dad. Every morning during the season, after listening to the game the night before when I was supposed to be asleep, I’d bound downstairs to discuss the results with him. “Hey Dad, the Dodgers lost! We’re a game ahead of them!’ Or, ‘Did you hear that Mays home run? Wow!’ Or one morning, ‘Dad, that new pitcher — what’s his name? Juan something? He hardly speaks English, but he threw a one-hitter. What a game!’

I learned statistics and how to figure out the standings before I read the Chronicle Sporting Green at breakfast. I could figure out batting averages and who had the most home runs. And I got to spend time with Dad. It was our thing since my brother didn’t care much for the game that Dad and I loved.

With cousins Frank and Bob dedicating our fathers’ brick.

Years later, when all my uncles were gone and the Giants finally won the World Series, I got word that we could buy a commemorative brick in front of the stadium. I just happened to go to the game that night with cousin Frank, who agreed that we should get a brick to honor our fathers. It was easy to get all the first generation cousins to chip in for a memorial next to Willie’s statue.

3 generations, still playing baseball at the family picnic.

We dedicated the brick before a family picnic where we played a rousing game of baseball in honor of our fathers. I often stop by on the way in to games, looking just to the left of Willie’s back foot for our brick, tipping my hat to my Dad and uncles. And every time I’m at the park, I wish that they could join me for one more game at the most beautiful park in the world, watching the amazing game that they taught me and my cousins.

Thanks Dad. You gave me baseball, and so much more.

George has heart too.

I sit with an eclectic and interesting group of people at Giants games. We’ve been known to come up with a discussion topic for a particular home stand, or even a theme that weaves its way throughout the season. A couple of years ago, we decided that we had one of the best looking teams in baseball, except for a couple of guys who brought the average down just a little. Since we make the rules for these discussions, we have the power to award any physically less-attractive players with points for style, personality or ability. This brings their total attraction points up, and has thus enabled us to maintain our supremacy in the ‘Best-Looking Team’ contest.

The addition of younger players such as Panik, Kontos, Williamson, and Blach ensure that we can hold that distinction for at least a few more years. With the pressure now off for us having to wonder if we’re still the best looking team this season, we’ve started to explore deeper topics of discussion.

For example, If you had a choice, which player would you like a hug from?

A sideways hug from Javier

This isn’t as easy a question as you’d think.  And the discussion has lasted a few seasons, reignited with the Buster Hugs Blanket giveaway. There are obvious choices that have more to do with good looks – Javier Lopez comes to mind –  or personality.  Who wouldn’t want a moment with Hunter and his crazy energy and hair? There’s also nice-guyness like Joe Panik, the ultimate boy-next-door who you’d be happy having your sister marry. Other factors include hugging experience, with Buster leading in this category, or expertise in celebrating accomplishments – Madison gets the nod here.

HacMan Hug

During one homestand, we talked extensively about which player we’d want a hug from. Using a totally unscientific polling method, out of 8 people questioned, Buster won 5 votes. Next up were the other P’s on the team: Panik, Pence and Pagan from last season. And there were 2 votes for former player Jeffrey ‘HacMan’ Leonard. When he played for the Giants in the ’80′s he was a pretty scary guy but the years have mellowed him, and he’s high up on the hug list for sure. My friend Julia and I met him at the Play Ball luncheon a couple of years ago and since then have been grateful recipients of his hugs.

Duan Kuiper

We’ve extended the discussion to the broadcast team and each of the guys got at least one vote, but Kruk and Kuip came out ahead. Maybe it’s because we knew them first as players (I had a crush on Kuip back then) or that we hear them so often that it’s easy to think we have personal relationships with them, but their hugability factor is well deserved. Amy G is in a category of her own.

It’s nice to feel so close to the team that we want hugs from them, whether it’s part of an on-field celebration or, well, just a hug. Chris Heston got his first Buster Hug after his no-hitter. Brian Wilson and Sergio Romo got famous, well-deserved Buster Hugs after the last pitch of the 2010 and 2012 World Series.

My all-time favorite Buster Hug came at the end of the 2014 World Series. With his last ounces of strength after a long and stressful post season, Buster scampered to the mound and embraced the 6′ 5″ Mad Bum and then buried his head in the pitcher’s chest. For me, that moment of combined relief and exhaustion summed up the previous month of Giants torture. The fans who live and die with the team could feel that hug down to our toes, and together we let out one huge sigh of relief.

Unscientific poll results:  If you had a choice, which player or broadcaster would you like a hug from?

Steve: Buster, John Miller
Janie: Hunter, Krukow
Julia: Buster (they share a birthday)
Joan: Panik’s her guy, and a smile is as good as a hug
Juliette: Buster, Dave Fleming
Jane: Angel Pagan
Carolyn: Buster or Kontos, Kuiper
Lincoln: Buster

Jane, Lincoln, Carolyn, Julia, Joan getting hugs from Buster

A couple of weeks ago, someone asked me what I was passionate about. Without hesitation, I said “Baseball.” Then, after taking a quick breath, I said “And Junior Giants . . .” I was about ready to blurt out a few other things I’m passionate about when he stopped me.

Julia, Joan and Bob on the patio

“What is it about baseball that you like?”

I described how the games are always interesting and you never know when you’ll see something new.  I love watching the gracefulness of the players on the field. When I go to games it’s like being at my second home, and I get to spend time with friends I’ve made at the ballpark. There are friends where I sit, on the patio before games, at pre-season lunches. I was preparing to elaborate when he stopped me again.

“It’s more about the people than the game, isn’t it?”

Hmmm – I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way, but he was right. Just look at this blog. It’s not a baseball-statistics-analysis kind of blog. Rather, it’s about the heart of the game, the people.

Joan was a Giants fan when they were in NY

My love of baseball has always been about the people. Growing up before girls had formalized chances to play, we’d gather for a modified game in the street or the local park. In 7th and 8th grades, it was recess or lunch. It was always fun just hanging out together, but also gave us a chance to run and hit and catch, and to show that we could keep up with the boys at ‘their’ game.

In 4th grade, on Mondays after school, I’d join the neighborhood girls to ride our bikes a few blocks away to wait for the Cub Scout meeting to end. We’d bring what little equipment we could wrestle away from our collective brothers since none of us had our own – a bat, 2 or 3 gloves, and a ball.

The boys would come out and play ball with us until they had to go home. Without the formal training that they had, we could keep up with them pretty well and had some rousing games in the street. That was before our dating days, and it was a very different time. When I started dating, my mother warned me not to beat a boy if I was trying to impress him . . .

Yikes! When I mentioned that advice many years later to an Australian friend, he told me, “Don’t you EVER let me win. If you can beat me, go for it! I’ll be really mad if you don’t do your best.” I’ve always appreciated those comments, and now I have no qualms about showing my baseball knowledge to any guy I meet.

Lincoln and Jane

So my passion for baseball is all about the people. I go to games as much for them as I do for what happens on the field. The fans I sit near at most games are an interesting group. Joan, to my right, knows much more than I do about strategy, players’ strengths and weaknesses, and what other teams are doing. She also likes martinis, and was originally led astray in that direction by the 2 innocent-looking ladies who sit in front of her.

Lincoln, to my left, wears his heart on his sleeve and dies a slow death when the team isn’t doing well. His passion can be a little intimidating. He also celebrates intensely and has surprised a few of my friends with boisterous, joyous hugs. His wife Jane sits to his left, although recently she’s changed the mojo by occasionally sitting next to me, or between me and Joan. Jane does an excellent job of walking Lincoln back when he gets too emotional, so she’s saved him from hyperventilation attacks. She’s also wickedly funny and isn’t afraid to lace her comments with markedly unladylike words. She keeps us in stitches.

Dressing for Antarctica – or a July Giants game

I’m the one in the middle of our group who knows about the personal lives of the players, gets autographs, knows the history of the team, and understands that dressing for a summer Giants game is just like dressing for Antarctica. After a trip there, I finally ‘got it’ and am now rarely cold at games.

Don’t get me wrong – I do love what happens on the diamond, especially a well-turned double play that shows the gracefulness of the shortstop and second baseman. I’ve always been partial to infielders. When I saw Baseballet  for the first time, I fell in love even more with the people on the field who make the game happen. This combination of ballet and baseball perfectly describes the grace of the game.

Baseball is my passion, and now I understand that it’s more than what happens on the field. Much more.

Uluru (Ayers Rock)

By this time of the year, I’m usually focused on the upcoming baseball season. I watch the news reports, read the baseball blogs, watch or listen to whatever games are available, and check the schedule to see who is going to which games with me.

But I’m not quite ready. I just returned from an extended visit to the land of cricket, rugby and Aussie Rules football. I escaped the rain and cold in the Bay Area, although it did rain on Uluru (Ayers Rock) when we were there, which is a rare occurrence and hopefully will bring good luck to the Giants this year. After all, The Rock is big and orange

Raining on the rock

and I was wearing an orange shirt (along with my fly net hat). The rare rain, the big orange rock, the orange shirt – all good signs for a Giants fan.

So I’m slowly warming up to baseball. I’m looking forward to the annual pre-season lunch with the friends who sit near me at the park.  In a couple of weeks, we’ll meet at MoMo’s to discuss the possibilities for the new season and just plain enjoy the camaraderie we share.  During the season there is often a flurry of texts zipping back and forth among us when the team is out of town, or when there’s news about a trade or a player who is moving on or retiring.

The texts can be full of angst but sometimes, they’re just plain fun. When our season tickets came, happily right before my birthday, I sent photos of the box and the tickets to the friends who share my seats with me.  But Jane, who sits next to me, outdid that with one of her famous selfie videos. She sat in front of the package from the Giants wearing her two-flaps-down hat and with great feeling and emotion, opened the box of tickets, describing every aspect. She held up the magnet schedule that came in the box and complained that refrigerators these days don’t alway have magnet-ready doors.  I promptly sent her a picture of my frig, full of magnet schedules from over the years. I bought that frig especially to provide a home for the magnet schedules.

Writing this is getting me more in the spirit.  One thing I’m NOT looking forward to, though, are some of the new rules about speeding up the game. I’ve always loved the pace and the time that a baseball game takes, and think that 3 hours isn’t too much time to relax, be with friends, experience the great outdoors – which in San Francisco can be Antarctica cold or Australian hot – and enjoy an amazing game with food you won’t get elsewhere. Try finding fried Brussel sprouts or a Caribbean cha-cha bowl at your local fast food outlet!

Tasmanian cricket team at the airport

If people think baseball is long, they’ve never experienced cricket. Even after living in Australia, I still don’t get the game and never really want to. There are some similar terms – innings, pitch and strike are a few – but they have no relation to the meaning in baseball.  And test matches can last up to FIVE DAYS! Quite a contrast to the 3 hours of a typical baseball game. I’m not sure how much people really pay attention at a cricket game, either. When I worked in Melbourne, the young ladies in the office would take the week off to attend the matches, but I never heard much about the games when they got back.  The conversations were about beer, sitting in the hot sun, and fun at the local pub afterwards. So maybe there are more similarities between cricket and baseball than previously thought. . .

Annual reading of the Field of Dreams quote

I’ll be ready for Opening Day on April 10, and the annual Reading of the Quote. We meet at high noon, at the top of the stairs by the Third Street entrance, and in unison read the Field of Dreams quote. It puts the game, and  our love for baseball, in perspective.

It’s a great game. Let the season begin.

This season, I’ve had a lot in common with Hunter Pence. And Matt Cain, Sergio Romo, and Angel Pagan. Also  Kelby Tomlinson, Joe Panik and Matt Duffy. And a bunch of other Giants players.

Why? We’ve all been somehow incapacitated and on the DL together. Well, not together together, like being in the same place together. It was more like at the same time kind of together.

In case you’re not a baseball person, DL stands for the Disabled List. Players are placed there for various time frames and a number of reasons. Giants players have had everything from hamstring injuries and sore necks to concussions and broken bones. I was on it for foot surgery, which I planned as soon as I saw the 2016 schedule. I picked the time around the All Star Game and break because there were a few long road trips before and after.  I wanted to miss the least number of home games possible.

That break was a good one for me and the players. With so many guys banged up, the mid-season days off helped with our individual recoveries. When games resumed a few days later, many of the guys were back in action but I was left to watch from my recliner. So I tried to be one with the players as much as I could.

My cast was the most obvious way to do this. The technician who put it on is a Giants fan, so of course it had to be orange and black. It became an open canvas for my own affliction and affection for my team. I could have bedazzled it with sequins and other shiny objects, but I couldn’t see myself sweeping loose glitter out of my bed every morning, especially since I had trouble just standing up and balancing on one leg.

I thought about pasting player pictures on my cast. I considered listing player numbers, but who? Retired numbers? The home grown infield? My favorite players of all time? And in what order?

Then it hit me: I could list the players who have been on the DL this season! I printed their names and numbers in block letters on paper so that I could read them upside down while writing on the cast. I spent an evening adding the names and numbers, carefully placing them all on the front so none would be sliced in half when my cast was removed. I didn’t want to add to anyone’s trouble with a name-slice.

Unfortunately, there were enough players to fill my cast.  I even ran out of room. More have been added since I completed my artwork, some have come off the DL, and others are still there or have gone back and forth. It’s been a tough year for injuries, but in spite of that, the Giants are still circling around first place.

I’m happy to say that I’m now mostly off the DL. I’m driving and have been back to the ballpark to cheer the team on. That means walking very slowly, but justifies a rest stop at the Public House for some food, like onion rings or the breakfast sandwich, two of my favorites. My cast shell now sits in the corner as a memorial to the guys who have been able to heal enough to get back to the game we all love. But it’s time to clean the cast off, remove the names, and get our guys back on the field. We’ve got a pennant to win.

Ask me about Junior Giants, and I’ll start talking. Non-stop. I’ll slow down if eyes glaze over, but so far, that hasn’t happened. I have stories, facts and figures, and even pictures to add to the conversation.

In case you haven’t had “the talk” yet, Junior Giants is a program that develops character with baseball as a framework. It’s free, non-competitive, and focuses on girls and boys who may not otherwise have a chance to play. Some players have challenges that other kids with more advantages in life may not have, and the results can be remarkable.  The whole family takes part, too.

But first, here’s what motivated me to get involved.

I grew up in an era when girls didn’t play organized sports. At least, not fun sports requiring real skills, equipment and cool uniforms. We had to be lady-like. I preferred to climb trees, build forts, and play catch in the yard. Yes, I was a classic Tomboy.

Baseball was always my favorite thing to do. With the other girls in the neighborhood, we played in the street with limited equipment we ‘borrowed’ from our brothers. The only coaching I had was playing catch with Dad. He taught me how to hit fungoes, which I did daily after school. I stood on the patio and knocked unripe green apricots over the fence and onto the street.  I don’t know how many cars I dinged along the way. I could hit anything in those days.

My brother played Little League, but not very well. He had depth perception problems so they put him in right field. He didn’t like it. He was more of a football or dig-holes-in-the-backyard kinda guy. It killed me to watch him from the stands.

In fourth grade, the neighborhood girls and I would gather what baseball equipment we could find and ride our bikes a few blocks away to wait for the Cub Scout meeting to end. We knew the boys would play street ball with us. They respected our baseball skills.

But still, it was the boys who got to play in organized leagues.

Fast forward many years, and girls sports evolved into something meaningful. Junior Giants became a model program for boys AND girls who wanted to play, but didn’t have other options.

4 bases of character development

The program sounded intriguing and worthwhile, and a great way to involve girls in the game. A little jealous that I’d missed the boat as a player, I donated my car and started attending the Play Ball Lunch sponsored by the Giants Community Fund. I was impressed.

Then I heard that our Police Activities League was starting a Junior Giants program. I jumped in, told them they really needed my help, and became the League Coordinator. I’d been working with local families through my job, so it was a perfect match.

Now, there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. I volunteer at least 25 hours a week during the season, and provide other support throughout the year. During our first 3 years, I’ve watched kids growing towards adulthood. They get involved in their community, they provide inspiration to their families and neighbors, and they have lots of fun. We have incredible volunteers who coach, coordinate and make the program successful.

WOW prize table

Every week, players, coaches and parents discuss a Word of the Week (WOW) that illustrates basic character qualities. I talk to the kids about these, giving out prizes for their responses. It’s fun to hear a 5 or 6 year old explain integrity. But even better to see the principles in action.

Story #1: A young player found a ball with distinctive markings in a bush near our field. Crestfallen, another boy said, “I lost that ball last week.” His face said that he didn’t think he’d ever get his ball back. The finder looked at the ball, then the other player, and handed it over to him. His grandmother said in amazement, “That would have never happened before Junior Giants!”

Story #2: I asked an 8 year old during Health Week if he was eating any new fruits or vegetables that summer. “Well,” he said, “I’m eating mango, cauliflower and broccoli.” “Hmmm, cauliflower and broccoli?” I asked, impressed by his choices. “Well, not so much the cauliflower” was his honest response. But at least I know his family was eating those healthy foods too, influenced by the Junior Giants.

Story #3: Kyle, 10 years old, practices his skills with his father in front of his apartment. Because of his confidence and encouragement, 2 neighbor girls joined the league this year. He inspired them to be a part of the program.

Phtoshoot

I have more stories (just ask!) than these 3 examples of the growth of our players and the involvement of families in Junior Giants principles. This year, our league (Sunnyvale) is the face of Junior Giants, so look for our kids on posters, bobblehead boxes, and other promotions. It’s a great program that I’m honored and thrilled to be a part of.

And you can help! This Saturday is the Junior Giants Glove Drive! If you’re going to the game, bring a glove or $10 to donate, and you’ll get a special Brandon Crawford pin. Or donate online. Contribute to the next generation of people with character who love baseball as much as you do!

There are all sorts of favorites lists, especially in sports: “The Top 5 Catches of All Time” or “Most Attractive Uniforms as Voted by Fans” or even “Favorite Players with Mustaches.” But the list of  “15 Great Moments in Rain Delay History” doesn’t mention my favorite.

It was a Friday night at Candlestick in the mid-80′s. Mike Krukow was pitching against the Dodgers, with a decent crowd for a cool, wet night at the ‘Stick.

The game went into about the 4th inning before the skies opened up. That field didn’t have the drainage that AT&T has, so the umps halted things in anticipation of the rain stopping. Tarps came out and the fans moved back under the overhang in the hopes that we’d be playing again soon. With a smaller fan base in those days, there was plenty of room for everyone to huddle together to stay dry.

Then the fun began.
One fan jumped onto the field and took a running dive mid-field to slide across the tarp. He got there pretty fast, so it took a few minutes for the security guards to realize they had to start the chase. The guards apparently hadn’t been in the gym recently, and he gave them a good run prior to his capture.

Before anyone could say, “Well, that was amusing,” another fan jumped the fence and tried to outsmart the guards. He led them on an even longer chase, sliding across the tarp and then jumping up to run further away from the law. The poor guards had trouble apprehending the guy – he was fast and looked like an experienced running back used to dodging obstacles, and it was slippery.

The second guy was finally caught, just as the announcement came over the PA. “Please stay off the field. It is dangerous and against the law. You will be apprehended.” That just made the crowd cheer louder. After all, this was great entertainment. I’m guessing that a few hours in jail was worth it for those who attempted the slide across the infield.

Even the players have ways to sit out a rain delay and although they don’t involve diving onto the tarp to get points for distance and style, except for an incident in Texas, they can be amusing and creative. A delay during a Clemson vs Davidson game is a classic.

I want to go on record that I don’t condone illegal, dangerous behavior like running onto a wet field. There are much better alternatives to wait out the rain. That night at Candlestick, whoever was in charge of the stadium sound started playing classic rock: the Beach Boys, Beatles, and Stones.  The dwindling crowd rose to the challenge. Dodger and Giants fans alike danced in the aisles, sang along with the tunes, and hardly noticed that the rain was still falling.
By the time the skies cleared, everyone was in a great Friday-date-night kind of mood. There were plenty of seats available, so we moved closer to the field when the game started again around 11 pm, and watched Krukow put the Dodgers away. In spite of the damp weather, it was a fun night and a Giants victory.

I thought of that game on Friday night while watching the same 2 teams in the rain at AT&T Park. It was a full house and fans came prepared like I did. With my Orange Friday rain jacket, an umbrella, and plastic garbage bags, I was fairly dry except when I jumped up to cheer and high-five everyone before sitting back down on my now-wet seat. I’ll have to coordinate that better the next time it rains.
It sprinkled most of the night, but there was no delay of game as the Giants put away the Dodgers. We watched the after-game fireworks through some drops, and turned the heater on as soon as we reached the car.

I’ll never forget the game that should have been delayed, but wasn’t. Game 7 of the NLCS included the longest, wettest 9th inning of my memory. I was decked out in garbage bags again and much wetter than the game last Friday. But I didn’t care.  The memory of Scutero, looking up into the rain with outstretched arms, is etched in my memory. It was later immortalized in probably the best promotional item ever, the Scutero Rain Globe.

So my advice for rain delays? Come prepared with an orange poncho, parka and plastic garbage bags. Have some hot chocolate. Remember to cover your seat when you stand up to cheer and high-five your friends. You can always dry off when you get home. Have fun!

Other notable rain delays:
Tarp-gate at Wrigley and Krukow isn’t pleased

First rain delay at Pac Bell, also against the Dodgers. That game was suspended and finished the next day.

I was driving around last week, passively listening to the radio tuned to a local sports station, when I noticed that my body was tingling, I felt a warmth around my heart, and a lightness of spirit all over.

It didn’t take long for me to realize I was coming down with Baseball Fever. It happens every year at this time.

The radio had stirred up all the thoughts and feelings that I tend to suppress during No Baseball Season. That’s not to say that I ignore baseball for those months. Quite the opposite.  I use the time to dust off my growing collection of bobble heads, organize my Junior Giants paperwork and photos, decide which team shirts to keep in the rotation, and plan for get-togethers with my Giants family.

In early January, we had the second annual slumber party. Four of us who sit in the same row at AT&T Park went to Catholic school. Not at the same time or place, but we have a bond that is understood by people who learned to spell and diagram sentences under the watchful eyes of women in penguin-style black dresses.  Who, by the way, seemed to love baseball. Janet, Joan and Jane have allowed me to join the group event although my name starts with a ‘C’.  Since my confirmation name is Judy, I’m Judylyn for the evening. It works.

We talk about our favorite players, discuss season highlights, and predict how the boys will do this summer. We wonder how the new guys will fit in, but know that almost everyone does well under Bochy. And we drink and eat in a way that the nuns would never have approved.

Pre-season lunch at Momo’s

A few weeks later, we needed to get the whole gang together so we’d have the strength to make it to April. We met for lunch at Momo’s. We discussed players, past accomplishments, how we thought the Blue team from the south would do, the changes in Arizona with Tony at the helm now, and our 2016 hopes.  After all, this is an even year.

But no signs yet of the Boys of Summer. *sigh*

Fortunately February brought some welcome player sightings in rapid succession. I was finally invited to the Giants Town Hall meeting, and was greeted by Lou Seal.  We sat 2 rows behind Buster and got to stare at the back of his head. We heard players talk about the upcoming season. Ah, pure baseball joy!

The next day was Fan Fest, and at a special season ticket autograph session, I got to talk to Buster and Matt and Hunter  (the other one). We listened to interviews, walked around the park, and soaked in the ambiance of my second home.

But February had even more surprises. The following weekend was the Junior Giants Commissioners Camp where I met other coordinators and got lots of ideas for our league.  The day ended with dinner in the Giants Clubhouse, photos with the trophies, and a turn at the batting cages. Noah Lowry, former Giants pitcher and now a  Jr. Giants commissioner, supervised our batting session but I failed to ask for any advice.

With Noah Lowry at the Jr Giants Commissioners Camp

Needless to say, it’s harder than it looks.  At least my bat touched 2 out of 20 pitching-machine throws. Note the choice of words . . .

I was starting to feel better. The boys were heading to Arizona, and would be back in town soon.

The season officially kicked off a few days ago at the Play Ball Luncheon, a benefit for Junior Giants. And a chance for face time with the boys. They’re looking good, and they’re ready to go!

Me and Sergio, putting our heads together

The season starts Monday for the Giants on the road, and at home on Thursday. On that day, I’ll meet friends at high noon in front of the Field of Dreams quote so Jane can lead everyone in the annual reading of the quote. This sets the tone for the season and reminds us of the hope that baseball brings every year.

At last, the boys are back in town.  All is right with the world.

Family picnic, Dad in front with me (the blur) and my brother, mom in back with a glove on her head (?) and cousin Bob with a bat in his hand.

Baseball is the best present  I’ve ever received. It transcends time and space, and it’s been part of my life since I was born.

The earliest picture I have with my father’s family is from our annual picnic. I was barely 2, the 7th of 8 cousins, and not aware that the aunts, uncles and cousins behind me had just finished a rousing game of ball. That scene would repeat itself for more than 30 years at family picnics, and even now, the conversation always turns to baseball at family gatherings. The game unites us all.

My father and his 4 brothers grew up in San Francisco. Their offspring heard stories about the Seals of the Pacific Coast League,  the DiMaggio brothers, and Lefty O’Doul.  They taught us how to play, using whatever equipment we had. My brother and I had an old, gray, weatherbeaten bat with no markings that was smooth as a baby’s skin from years of use. We never had a ‘real’ baseball, so we used an old tennis ball that could really travel down the block if hit just right.

We played in the backyard, the park, and the street. My brother got to play Little League but didn’t like it very much, and I soooo wished that I could take his place. Girls wouldn’t be allowed on teams for a few more years.

Baseball brought my friends and cousins together because everyone played.  We learned to problem solve — Where can we play? What about bases — the manhole cover, tree stump, street lamp, and  fire hydrant?  Who has a ball?  We learned fairness, communication and teamwork without adult intervention.  We figured things out ourselves, learning important life skills along the way.

Our baseball lives changed in 1958 when the Giants came out West. I formed a deep bond with my father over baseball, a gift I’ll always  be grateful for. I listened to night games on my transistor radio, and ran downstairs in the morning to excitedly discuss the game with Dad. I learned statistics and game strategy, but mostly got to spend time with him.

We only went to 2 professional games as a family, one each at Seals Stadium and Candlestick. In 1978, the year my father died, I started going with friends. I think of him often when I’m at the park, and appreciate the gifts he gave me of his patience and love.

Years later, my mother was my baseball buddy.  She’d always ask “What should we eat?” and the answer was consistent: a Polish and a beer. The games gave us a chance to talk about things that were difficult at other times. I was finally able to explain why and how living overseas had changed me, and was so important. She discussed difficulties with her husband, and told me about her life as a child. I told her I’d forgiven her for never giving me a baseball glove. We grew to understand each other better while at the ballpark.

When Mom passed away in January 2010, I know that her heavenly intervention helped win the trophy that year. I wish both of my parents had been there to celebrate in person. I carry them with me to games and held their picture when I posed for a shot with the 2010 trophy.

Annual reading of the Field of Dreams quote

But time moves on, and baseball continues. I’ve developed an increasingly important Giants community that has thrived and grown.  The fans sitting near me are now good friends. We keep in touch when the team is out of town, inform each other when we won’t be at games, and celebrate wins and losses with emotion and passion. We get together during the off season to plan my favorite tradition: the reading of the Field of Dreams quote at noon on Opening Day. It starts the season off right.

For the last 3 years, I’ve been able to give the gift of baseball back to my community through the Junior Giants, an amazing program for youth.  I coordinate a league and get to pass on my passion for baseball and the Giants to the kids we serve. Some have never played before. They gain character development through baseball, and I see that same passion for baseball that I have, growing in them.

Larry Baer, Giants CEO, understands the sense of family and community that a team like the Giants, and the game of baseball, can provide. They’ve built a team with men of character who play the game with integrity, both on and off the field. The organization is an ongoing gift that I will always treasure.

Thank you, baseball, for the gifts you’ve given me throughout my life. Thank you, Giants, for being a great example of that gift.

It used to be that I got really sad around August, knowing that there were only 2 more months of baseball left. I could even get a twinge in June or July when I looked at my pile of August tickets, so I stopped looking forward past my July games.

That all changed in 2010 when the baseball season went well into October and included a World Series.  By the start of the 2013 season, after 2 World Series wins and baseball lasting into November, I lost the August sadness and replaced it with eternal hope and anticipation, riding on a baseball high that only championship teams and fans can understand.  Knowing that the season would most likely carry me and my friends past October was the best Thanksgiving gift ever!

I was hoping that this, an odd year (Giants and other baseball fans will recognize this reference) would break the even-year cycle and bring a fourth trophy to San Francisco. Things seemed to be going so well for the first four or five months.

Nick Noonan, 2015 Giants Scrubbinie, @ spring training ’14.

But I’m slowly coming to the realization that it may not happen this year. It’s hard enough to repeat a championship, but with so many key players injured, well, the writing is on the wall. Maybe . . .

I must say, though, that the Scrubbinies* like Nick Noonan have done pretty well, considering their collective inexperience at the major league level. You never know what the baseball gods have in mind for the last month of the season.

September baseball is still pretty exciting, and with a little over 20 games left to play, almost anything can happen. And it has. Baseball history is full of major fails and incredible sprints to the finish. So fingers are crossed.

For a real baseball fan like me, in spite of my allegiance to the Giants, this has been an interesting season with a number of unexpected teams heading for potential playoff berths. September is a time to pay attention to all the teams while cheering for your own team, even it they’re not on top of the pile. At least not today.  After all, they could be spoilers for the team you least want to make the post season (like that team in blue). To paraphrase Marty Lurie, there’s still a lot of baseball to play and you just never know . . .

Duane Kuiper, the ultimate Scrubbinie, sporting 1 of his 3 World Series rings.

*Scrubbinie: a term of endearment for the second and third stringers. There are a number of spellings, and you won’t find it in the regular dictionary but it’s a common sports term for back-up players. Duane Kuiper, Giants broadcaster, has used this term a lot, having been a Scrubbinie himself. And a good one at that!