Anatomy of a San Francisco Giants Fan
September 2011: A week before the San Francisco Giants were to play in their last home stand, we were holding tickets for the first game of the series and holding out hope that our team would still be in contention. After all, if our postseason hopes were over by then we weren’t sure the fans would be into the game. Would people sell their tickets? Would there be much of a crowd? Our postseason chances were slim and had been mathematically calculated as Giants + postseason = miracle so we were not surprised to watch the Diamondbacks seal our fate over the weekend. Still, we had the tickets for a Monday night, so we rushed from our jobs and the homework for a final night at ATT Park.
What greeted us that night was nothing short of magical. Crowds filed in from all directions, homemade signs abounded, a flood of orange and black trekked through the streets. Full encampments of revelers equipped with tables, chairs and 75 quart coolers tailgated in the parking lots. Had anyone told these folks the postseason was history?
As our family waited in line to enter at the Lefty O’Doul Gate I caught sight of one of the many handmade signs. It said, “You’re still our Champions!” That is when I understood that the fans had come with a different purpose tonight. We wanted to give this last series our all, to say thank you, and as it turned out that is exactly what the Giants wanted to do for us too. Vogelsong was focused on giving the fans a good game, a strong finish, because they have made a difference. For Bochy, the players, Kruk and Kuip — it was all about making this last series count.
So, just how and why did all this start? What turns a city that was once ‘comme ci, comme ca’ interested in baseball into a fan base that rivals, yes, I have to say it, the Red Sox. If you don’t know what I’m talking about you have never been to Fenway. And when all is said and done, just what does that fan look like?
The answer is a recipe that begins with the franchise:
Kruk and Kuip: Our Lead Off Guys
In 2010 GQ Magazine rated Mike Krukow and Duane Kuiper the third best broadcasting team in baseball — clearly an editorial error. The Kruk-Kuip banter is second to none and their rapport with the crowd is infectious. Whether it is to pan for the Babes of Half Moon Bay, highlight the funky moves of a 3-year-old or eliminate some girl’s unsuspecting boyfriend, the crowd and the booth are connected in a playful dance that, game after game, never gets old. We count on them even more for their fundamental knowledge of the game. These guys know their stuff and when they are talking about a pitch, a swing or any central part of the game there is no better commentary in baseball. Most of all, they are authentic Giants fans. That’s right. Kruk and Kuip love this team as much as we do. When a player is tanking, a typical comment is, “An at bat like that will have you talking to yourself,” not “Don’t know what he was swinging at, that one was in the dirt.” They have been there and they know. We respect them. We believe them. And when the occasional game is broadcast on a network for national viewers we listen on the radio.
Bochy: The Seasoned Skipper
I don’t know what he is like in the clubhouse or when he has to meet privately with a player, but what I see when Bochy is managing a game or fielding postgame questions is the blueprint of a what a manager should be. By contrast, we have all seen the coach with no ability to inspire a team, their public man-tantrums on the field of play sucking the joy and passion right out of a player like a dementor in a Harry Potter book. Bochy is the opposite. When Bumgarner gave up eight runs in the first inning on June 21 against Minnesota his manager supported him in the post game talk. Madison ended the year 13-13, nearly the same as Lincecum’s record. Bochy’s leadership is legendary, his influence and encouragement the stuff of a real pro. Bruce Bochy is where the chemistry of this team got its start.
The Players
Everything changed the year Barry Bonds was no longer with the team. For better or worse, the distraction was over, leaving behind the era of the prima donna who paraded the fields of the cactus league with eight body guards at his side. An unmistakable weight was lifted off the team, off Bochy, the booth, the stands. Now it was time for the everyday hero. It took only two years, from 2008 to 2010, to see the result. The pitching was now the bedrock of the team and without the distressing injuries of 2011 the Giants may have done something only three National League teams had done before, win a back-to-back World Series. Without the injuries we would have had the bats in the lineup — Sanchez, Posey, Burrell, Schierholtz and Sandoval, who missed 40 games. In public, Bochy kept his game face, added to the roster and we followed suit by cheering for the newcomers. After all, we had learned not only that everything counts, but everyone counts.
AT&T Park
If you think a ballpark doesn’t matter then you never attended a baseball game at Candlestick. Where we once had a stadium, we now have a ballpark, one of the most majestic in the nation. I’m not fond of the expression, “there’s no bad seat in the house,” it is overused and usually not true, except in this case. It is a joy to attend a game in this park, from any angle, any location, even standing room. I can hear Willie Brown singing his own praises right now, remembering when the then Mayor Dianne Feinstein laid down the gauntlet for Willie to raise the funds for the project, which was beginning to look like the only way to keep the Giants in San Francisco. Well, Willie deserves a lot of credit for this one because the bottom line is, everything counts, and that means ballparks too.
The Commercials
If 2010 was The Year of the Misfits then 2011 became the Year of the Commercials. This is the ultimate connection — commercials by fans, for fans, including fans. People submitted their stories doing something that helped the Giants win a game — Trish checking her purse, the dad and his daughter screaming “Crush it!” They were there. It mattered. But the non-fan commercials did just as much to unite us — The Break Up, The Birds and Bees, The Lame Boss and of course the Driving Test. This year, when a Giants commercial came on, instead of taking a TV break I would hang around and so did millions of others. Who knew our misfits could act!
Just how do all of these elements translate into the qualities that make up a San Francisco Giants fan, circa 2011 and beyond?
The Anatomy of a San Francisco Giants Fan
We won a World Series. Let’s not diminish this fact by pretending that it didn’t provide a spark that ignited the fans. The Giants are 2010 World Champions, which is something that can never be taken away, not ten, not thirty, not fifty years from now. It mattered, but in some ways, what matters more are the distinct characteristics, almost a code, that makes up a Giants fan.
The Color Orange
We’ve been orange and black from the start so there is nothing new about orange, except that where once orange was reserved for lettering, often subtly rendered in small dimensions on the left chest, it is now the dominant color worn. The fact that fans are willing to wear the most unflattering color on the color wheel demonstrates true allegiance. We are not talking peach or pale orange here, but the orange of oranges, pumpkins, clown make-up, roadside traffic cones, fruit, flowers, promising skies, candy corn, poisonous frogs, Tang and clown fish. Not clothing. Not unless it is Halloween. Thanks to Orange Fridays, the color has become a crowd favorite and, despite the unsightly outcome, worn proudly by all shapes, sizes and ages. At visiting ballparks our fans can be seen above all other fans, partly because in certain places we nearly outnumber the home team fans, but mostly because of that bright orange color. Only concessioners with their neon green shirts stand out more than our Giants fans. Praise the color orange, in all its hideous glory.
Gear, Garb and Getups
Not since the cheese head first crowned the head of a Packers fan have fans been willing to toss vanity aside for a little team spirit. Panda hats, giraffe hats, stuffed baby giraffes, fake beards, fake Timmy hair and fully loaded catcher’s gear are just a few of the many getups people turn up in for games. Not just kids, but grown men and women. The other garb that has surged in popularity is the player uniform. At one game, while I was waiting in the concession area, I witnessed a steady stream of men entering the bathroom — Affeldt, Lincecum, Huff, Sandoval, Whiteside, Zito plus a few former players. A young boy stood nearby poking his dad, “Did you know there are REAL players in the bathroom?” he said. I glanced over at the dugout half expecting to see it empty. With so many “unis” being worn, it is the only thing that breaks up the color orange in the stands.
Laugh Loud, Laugh Often
If you are going to be part of the Kruk and Kuip show, and you are automatically if you show up for a game, the camera may find you and you are fair game. A true Giants fan has a sense of humor. Yawn without covering your mouth, get a Tarzan yell voiceover. Yak on your cell phone too long and expect a full verbal walloping from the booth. Bring an exceptional sign to the ballpark and expect complete game coverage. That is what happened during this last home stand thanks to the creative thinking of one fan. I have no idea how SpeeDee Oil Change reacted to its message, hand lettered on a cut-off square of brown discarded corrugated cardboard, but the director couldn’t get enough of panning to the sign and we loved it. We won’t soon forget “When it’s time for a change, think SpeeDee Oil Change and Tune up, your oil change and tune up experts.”
A Giants Fan is a Big Leaguer Too
When it’s time for the wave, go to another ballpark, or so it was until the Monday night we attended the game. I thought the poor guy in front of us was going to have a hernia. “That’s not what Giants fans do!” he kept shouting, but the wave continued around maybe a dozen times until — the Rockies scored a run. “You see!” the irate fan huffed. “You see what you did.” He was right. This uncharacteristic display was a pure bit of fun but distinctly unusual. It was time for us to play our roll, become the 10th man and stop the runs that were looming on base. We stood up and roared, letting the Rockies know we were done fooling around and, together, we successfully held them to the one run. Giants fans are part manager, part fan, often equipped with scorecards, radios and apps to help them monitor the game. Above all, they know when they are needed because, quite simply, they are part of the team and take their part seriously.
And so it goes, the season is over, but not without the Giants having reached another milestone, although this time it was the fans who toppled the record. On Monday night, September 26, 2011, the sold-out crowd brought the franchise to an all-time single-season attendance record topping 3.3 million.
We were there. We made a difference.