Shouts and Tears

There are few moments in life—including happy events like weddings and births—where joy is so overwhelming that shouts and tears mingle, the arms lift in triumph, and one has to jump up and down lest one explode. In living rooms, bars, restaurants, electronics stores and wherever there was a television set last night, Northern Californians gave themselves over to the moment.

Old-timers say the spontaneous outpouring reminded them of V-J day, which marked the end of history’s most terrible conflict. Last night’s World Series victory for the San Francisco Giants celebrated “just a game,” but to the many for whom baseball is a metaphor, a reverie, an escape, a reminder, and a bequest the event was a lifetime in the waiting.

When the Giants moved to San Francisco in 1958, the future was pregnant with possibility. Some of the best players of the mid-century—and Willie Mays, who is on the short list of baseball’s greatest players ever—were on a New York Giants squad that had won the World Series in 1954. The Giants won the National League pennant in 1962 in the new Candlestick Park and lost a thrilling World Series to the Yankees in seven games, but no worries, with their talent everyone believed that they would soon get other opportunities. (The change in scenery didn’t bother their perennial National League rival, the Dodgers, who also moved west in 1958 from Brooklyn; the L.A. Dodgers beat the Yankees in the 1963 Series.) In the 48 years that followed until last night, the Giants had only two more chances, both unsuccessful, to win baseball’s crown.

Every San Francisco fan has his or her own story of hopes raised and dashed. We endured freezing night games at Candlestick to cheer Will Clark, Kevin Mitchell, Jeff Leonard, and Mike Krukow. We rooted for admirable players of talent and character to win a ring, but they never did. After 52 years we learned to reconcile ourselves to things that will never be, like a Giants title.

From the days I first heard gravelly-voiced Lon Simmons broadcast Giants (and 49ers) games thousands of miles away to my little Sony transistor radio in Honolulu, I’ve waited, then stopped waiting, for this moment. With little warning it’s here, followed by the shouts and tears.