Endless October

It was almost unbearable to watch.

It felt as if we'd been there before.  So much anticipation, so much hope riding on the next swing of the bat.  For countless Spring seasons, we've predicted that (or wondered if) this might actually be our year, knowing deep down that we always end up short.  Silly rabbit, World Series rings are for Yankees.  Supporting a team in a city that has never brought a World Series championship home to its fog-loving faithful takes its toll.

When would we ever see a parade down Market Street?

With the game tied 5-5 in the bottom of the ninth, the San Francisco Giants had lost the momentum against a formidable Phillies team after an early lead.  I sat in my seat holding my hat in my hands, replaying the images of past seasons that never were.  

There was 1989, when the Giants seemed to have everything going for them coming off a powerful NLCS win over the Chicago Cubs, only to have their momentum crushed by the forces of nature as a 7.0 earthquake derailed the Giants and any chance of avoiding a sweep by their cross-town rivals.  (Yes, I'm blaming it on the earthquake)

There was 1993, when the Giants had two 20-game winning pitchers, a mean closer and a star-studded lineup who racked up 103 wins during the regular season.  If the Atlanta Braves weren't in the NL Western Division or if there was a Wild Card at the time, it might have been the Giants' year.  But the season came down to that final Sunday, with the Braves winning and the Giants losing.  No playoffs.

Then there was the 2000 series against the Mets, where late inning heroics by J.T. Snow were countered by New York's Benny Agbayani in a 13th inning walk off home run to take a 2-1 series lead.  The Giants never recovered.

And of course, the horror of 2002 when the Giants were eight outs away in game six from winning the World Series and shutting up the Anaheim rally monkey, only to orchestrate one of the biggest meltdowns in World Series history that led to the Angles taking the crown in game 7.

But tonight, Aubrey Huff stepped to the plate.  Huff, a long-time veteran and accomplished ball player, had never been to the playoffs before this year.  He was due.  He had to be due.  Here's your chance, I thought to myself.  I dipped my head in my hands, afraid that I'd seen this movie before.

But for one big reason, this year was different.  

My youngest brother, who has been battling cancer for the last six years, relapsed on September 1st with an aggressive form of leukemia.  The relapse was his third since he was diagnosed shortly after his nineteenth birthday, just one semester into his tenure at the University of Michigan.  Fighting cancer, especially a blood cancer that returns time and again, is an experience nobody can begin to explain or appreciate unless you go through it yourself - whether personally or with a close relative.  It is a brutal and frightening world all its own.

His fight against leukemia has sapped much of his strength.  Even during periods of remission he was sick.  His side effects went way beyond reactions to chemotherapy.  The combination of a weakened immune system and years of medication have taken its toll.  You name it, he's probably had it.

His latest relapse couldn't be more serious and he is truly in a fight for his life.

And yet, through it all, his one sanctuary seems to be sitting in the stands and following what he clearly feels is his favorite Giants team yet.  I couldn't agree more.  It's no wonder he has taken to this team - a combination of young stars and veterans all scrapping and fighting with every ounce of their beings to contribute as the collective underdogs that they are.  

The 2010 Giants are so different from the teams of year's past.  There is no dominating star like those during the years with Barry Bonds or Will Clark.  In fact, two of the teams highest salaried players get very little playing time - one, Barry Zito, didn't even make the playoff roster.  

Rather, you learn to expect the unexpected from the unlikeliest of corners.  Cody Ross, who the Giants pulled off the waiver wire just over a month ago, hasn't stopped hitting home runs and driving runners in.  A rookie catcher named Buster Posey commands the league's best pitching staff and hits like a 10-year veteran.  An off-the-wall closing pitcher named Brian Wilson is as good for his post game quotes and interviews as he is for striking batters out in the ninth inning with sheer hatred and intensity.  These guys play hard and earn every win they get.

What I like most about them is that in April of this year, nobody (maybe not even themselves) would have picked them to win the NLCS or especially the World Series.  Even tonight as they're on the brink of knocking off the two time NL Champions, they probably don't get that much respect around the country.

While my brother received his news in early September and his health worsened with successive treatments, the Giants seemed to rise to the occasion.  Their record in September was 18-8 and their pitching staff threw a near-record 1.78 ERA since he got sick again.  We traveled with him to Colorado to see the Giants steal 2 crucial games from the Rockies before coming home to San Francisco to ultimately clinch the NL West title against San Diego.  He attended every home game.  The last part of September was almost a playoff atmosphere as the team nobody thought could win was winning and contending for a real playoff spot.  He traveled recently to Philadelphia, describing with joy the silence of Philadelphia fans after Ross homered in game 1 to take a crucial 1-0 series lead.

My brother's happiness seems to track their success and for that reason above all others I hope for one win after another.

So with first baseman Huff at bat, it seemed as if so much more was at stake.  Do it for him, I thought.

With one out, Huff lined a single off the first pitch he saw and was followed by a screaming single from rookie sensation Buster Posey, in a memorable night for the young catcher.

With one out, runners at the corners and Uribe at bat, the win was in our sites.  But so was the double-play ball, a scenario I couldn't help but fear, remembering all of the years growing up and watching opportunities slip by and seasons come up short.

Of course, Uribe popped a sacrifice fly to left field, deep enough to score Huff for an electrifying win.  A sac fly deep enough to keep us all going, to keep us all believing that good things do come to those who suffer.

As I stood there watching thousands of fans chant "U-uribe, U-uribe" in Willie Mays Plaza, I couldn't help but smile, hoping they could keep this October season going and show us all how the improbable can always be possible.  

Whether or not we end up with a parade on Market Street, I have no idea.  I've followed the Giants long enough to know that the final chapter is nowhere near written.  But as we turned to leave for home, I heard my brother say "I started thinking about a Market Street parade today."  And tonight, that's good enough for me.