Let the pissing contest begin. It never fails. Whenever the Giants fall into a slump, some poor uninitiated soul has the audacity–or perhaps temerity–to criticize or make a disparaging remark. And that’s when the die-hards pounce.
I’m talking about the fans who say the critic has no right to say anything about the Giants because: A) they haven’t been a fan long enough and B) they haven’t suffered enough.
You know who I mean. The fan who immediately whips out his/her pedigree to show you how big it is. Or how old it is. Or they take off their socks to show you their toes blackened from frostbite after spending the winter at Candlestick every summer.
I get it. Only those who have been fans long enough, or suffered enough or whose grandfather played in the Carolina league with Christy Mathewson have earned that right.
The thing is, not one of the Giants cares how long you’ve been a fan. Or how much you have bled for your team. They will play for you whether you’ve been fans for 100 years, 100 hours or 100 minutes. And they won’t require a certificate of authenticity.
I know we’ve had a bad week. And, if I’m being honest, a bad start. How do you think the Giants feel? They had it worse. This can’t be fun for them and it’s not what they want.
This past week wasn’t for the faint of heart. It’s not about magic, or faith or believing. It’s just about enjoying the baseball. We get to watch the greatest team–pay attention, I didn’t say winningest or highest scoring, I said greatest–play baseball every day. They’re our team. They’re Giants. They’re great.
When the Giants take the field Monday at home, let’s give them a Giant welcome. After all, each and every one of us is a die hard fan.
Let’s hear it for the boys.
23 April 2017