[New blogs posted every weekend. For previous blogs please visit “blog archive” to the lower right of this screen. Click on the small black arrows for a drop down list.]
Paris, London, Tokyo, New York, Rome, Mumbai, San Francisco, and the list goes on. Pick a favorite international city. Those of us living near major international cities are lucky beyond belief. Those of us born and raised in and around San Francisco, as do those born and raised near all top cities, may take these amazing cities for granted. The cities are there and we visit, we have fun, we go home. When we actually live in an amazing world city, we work, we go out, we buy groceries, we do our chores, we do our laundry after work, we do all the mundane things people do all over the world in every community. Sometimes we don’t stop and think, “Wow. I live in [or near] San Francisco [or Paris or London and so on].”
This past week, those of us living in or near San Francisco were treated to a major life experience. We came together as a cohesive, over the top happy group from every race, ethnicity, religion, gender orientation, color, creed, intelligence level, socio economic status, etc., and we celebrated (together) for many days culminating in the parade of the century because: The San Francisco Giants won the World Series. Ah, but it’s so much more than that. That was the icing on the cake, but it goes so much deeper.
Though I’m not generally a sports fan (and will post a blog on my perverted view of competitive sports one day) I appreciated this event because I’m alive. That’s all it takes. I’m alive and aware of what’s going on. How could I not be happy when everyone around me was happy including folks on TV and the radio and at the grocery store and the dentist and the gas station and the book store and the dry cleaners and the car repair shop and my family and my neighbors and all of my friends? We’ve all been genuinely happy for weeks, possibly months for the hardcore fans.
Speaking of the hardcore Giants fans, some are a bit miffed because so many of us Johnny come latelys jumped on the Giants’ bandwagon and watched all the playoff games and the series having not watched any of the previous games that led up to it. I felt a tinge of guilt when some of them scolded people like me--for a few seconds.
So I admit I’m one of those. I suppose with that logic we would have to live in San Francisco to celebrate because they are the San Francisco Giants, not the California Giants or the Bay Area Giants. Or we can only share in it if we were born in San Francisco, native San Franciscans. Go back far enough and that would only leave Latinos and Native Americans who were here first as true celebrants. But it can’t be that narrowly defined.
When 911 exploded the entire world suffered. Yes, the people who lived there and lost family and friends suffered more but because we are members of the human race we are connected. We all cried. We all watched the news unfold for days and weeks. Some never set foot in New York City. Anything that happens to segments of society, good or bad, brings us together and thankfully it does. We need a lot more togetherness because we have little of it.
I follow the news and current events and somewhere it entered my stream of consciousness that something amazing was happening with the Giants. Well, of course I wanted part of it! Millions of us did. When something good happens it’s human nature to want part of it. Likewise when things go bad it’s hard to walk out the door in the mornings--and we’re crabby. Sometimes for days and weeks and months and years. So this was a good thing. (Excuse me, Martha.) In fact, it was one of those wonderful things that sports should be about and often is not. Not just the winning part because that comes and goes. It’s the intangible feeling this team managed to create. I’ve experienced other World Series events in my 65 years but I do not recall the excitement level of this particular event. This was just fly to the moon excitement. This was it.
My son was born in San Francisco, currently lives in Sacramento, took a day off from work, drove an hour to the Vallejo ferry, cruised to San Francisco on a clear sunlit bay with a boatload of delirious fans, was met at the Embarcadero by the wild parrots of Telegraph Hill (see documentary of the same name) and spent the entire day reveling in the glory that is the Giants—and his beloved birth city, San Francisco. The grainy photo I’ve posted with this blog is due to his Blackberry’s limitations and the lighting and the pulsating crowd. But it’s a keeper! He’ll tell his great grandkids that years ago when he was a young man . . .
This event touched everyone. People who never watch baseball or couldn’t name a single player on the Giants roster roared and danced and cheered and screamed then participated in a huge outdoor event that produced almost zero violence or trouble and instead brought close to a million strangers together in a way no one could have imagined. It came at a time when we needed it so desperately. A time when people are out of work, losing their homes, filing bankruptcy, divorcing due to economic stresses, election atrocities the likes of which we have never seen in this country including voting booth “accidents,” wacky candidates who are totally out of touch with the average person and what real life is about, corporations screwing us at every turn of the road in our every day lives, court systems failing, businesses failing and closing and tossing out their employees, crime everywhere we turn, endless wars and death and sadness of horrific dimensions, lousy customer service, even lousier goods being produced ELSEWHERE in the world and not here, drugs, gangs, nukes poised to strike if we look sideways at certain countries, and the list is endless. Then San Francisco went and produced a team that made us ALL world champions.
I can say that because we proved it at the celebration. We are all world champions because we didn’t riot or behave like Neanderthals or out of control freaks. We were simply and completely a sea of black and orange. I watched most of it on TV and could not distinguish race or even gender or size or any other factor we generally judge our fellow humans by. It was just a blur of gyrating images. And for a few hours we all loved each other. And California and perhaps the country as a whole shared in our local collective glee and pride and happiness.
Well, Texas not so much. [heh heh heh]
When I come hooooooommmmme to youuuuuuuuu, San Franciscooooooooo,
Your golden suuunnnnnnnnnn will shiiiiinnnne for meeeeeeeee.
Written by George Cory, with lyrics by Douglass Cross
www.sharonstrawhandgarner.com
[No part of this content may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author. Blog series began in March 2009.]
