There are others. Others that wear the black and orange during the summer. Others that live and die on the west coast while actually living on the east coast. Others, that is, who are San Francisco Giants fans with a country between themselves and their team. When we see each other on the street, in a store, or even at an east coast ball park, we greet each other, discuss the team, or just nod or point to acknowledge that Giants jersey or hat that we have in common.
In this modern age of satelites and connected computers, the gulf between me and my team is in distance alone. There is Major League Baseball radio, which provides their audience with broadcasts of every game on the schedule over the internet for a small annual fee. While various sports websites that contain articles, statistics, player profiles, and analysis abound on the Internet. But it is in televison where the greatest strides have been made. With the advent of satelite technology, it is now possible for me to see the bay area cable broadcasts of Giants games live in New Jersey. And ESPN’s fantastic show “Baseball Tonight” provides highlights from around the league.
Though what one loses when not living in the same city (or side of the country) as your team is immeasureable. It prevents you from experiencing that sense of excitement that envelops a city during the playoffs. When the Giants clinched the National League Pennant in 2002, there were no banner headlines in my local newspaper exclaiming those acheivements. There was no buzz in the air about the team, and since none of my friends are Giants fans (unfortunately Mets and Yankees), there was no common jubilation when we discussed the games.
And losing is a different experience as well. As the loss of the 2002 World Series is indelibly impressed upon my memory. Riding a multi-run lead into the late innings of the sixth game, my team managed not only to lose the game, but the entire series as well. As demoralizing as that expericence was, it was intensified by the fact that the collective heartache that my area expericenced when other local teams lost was nonexistent. I could only commiserate with my father, a fellow Giants fan who went through a similarly dejecting loss to the Yankees in 1961. Although there are more Giants fans on the east that one might expect, we are so greatly out numbered that our anguish is easily imperceptible.
But like any other good baseball fan, hope springs eternal. When the new season begins, we read about our team and believe that this might be the year. Though the Giants have never won a World Series since moving to San Francisco, I am confident that they will eventually bring a championship to the city by the bay. And when they do, I will be celebrating with all my fellow fans, here on the east coast.
There are others. Others that wear the black and orange during the summer. Others that live and die on the west coast while actually living on the east coast. Others, that is, who are San Francisco Giants fans with a country between themselves and their team. When we see each other on the street, in a store, or even at an east coast ball park, we greet each other, discuss the team, or just nod or point to acknowledge that Giants jersey or hat that we have in common.
In this modern age of satelites and connected computers, the gulf between me and my team is in distance alone. There is Major League Baseball radio, which provides their audience with broadcasts of every game on the schedule over the internet for a small annual fee. While various sports websites that contain articles, statistics, player profiles, and analysis abound on the Internet. But it is in televison where the greatest strides have been made. With the advent of satelite technology, it is now possible for me to see the bay area cable broadcasts of Giants games live in New Jersey. And ESPN’s fantastic show “Baseball Tonight” provides highlights from around the league.
Though what one loses when not living in the same city (or side of the country) as your team is immeasureable. It prevents you from experiencing that sense of excitement that envelops a city during the playoffs. When the Giants clinched the National League Pennant in 2002, there were no banner headlines in my local newspaper exclaiming those acheivements. There was no buzz in the air about the team, and since none of my friends are Giants fans (unfortunately Mets and Yankees), there was no common jubilation when we discussed the games.
And losing is a different experience as well. As the loss of the 2002 World Series is indelibly impressed upon my memory. Riding a multi-run lead into the late innings of the sixth game, my team managed not only to lose the game, but the entire series as well. As demoralizing as that expericence was, it was intensified by the fact that the collective heartache that my area expericenced when other local teams lost was nonexistent. I could only commiserate with my father, a fellow Giants fan who went through a similarly dejecting loss to the Yankees in 1961. Although there are more Giants fans on the east that one might expect, we are so greatly out numbered that our anguish is easily imperceptible.
But like any other good baseball fan, hope springs eternal. When the new season begins, we read about our team and believe that this might be the year. Though the Giants have never won a World Series since moving to San Francisco, I am confident that they will eventually bring a championship to the city by the bay. And when they do, I will be celebrating with all my fellow fans, here on the east coast.
» I am a sophomore at Penn State University majoring in English. I live in New Jersey and am a lifelong San Francisco Giants fan. My allegiance to this west coast team is based on my father’s own support for the Giants, as he stayed a fan after they moved from New York.
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Posted January 26, 2004.
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