Tuesday morning: I had a post about growing up a bit of a baseball orphan and really discovering the game in my late teens -- my Dad claims allegiance only to the Oakland Oaks, my Mom grew up a San Francisco Seals fan -- but I set it aside because what I realized what is important was not how I came to here, but what I get going forward.
For me, the memories of sports are not the game itself, but the people I was with when I was watching. Game 3 of the 1987 NLCS, the 1989 Super Bowl, Jerry Rice's fumble-ruled-fair against the Packers. I had thought about going down to town and watching the game with fans, but did one much better. Owen spent a lot of time with me watching these playoffs but wandered off after Renteria's home run until the bottom of the ninth. But then he crouched with me in front of the TV waiting for that last out. We hollered a lot, scared Natalie a bit, and then got them to bed. I'm hoping that memory sticks with him. It's my best sports memory yet.
As to the championship itself, with this one the great choke of 2002 has faded quickly away. Of course, I'd have liked that one. But for a first championship, you couldn't have a better bunch of guys win it all. Lincecum, Ross, Posey. Wherever these guys go to make their millions in the long term, and whatever the form of the next championship team, these are the names we're going to be seeing on faded jerseys in the stands when we see the next championship, even if that's not until 2064.
Pitchers and catchers: February 13. Go Giants.
