Whenever I think of the Giants, I can’t help but remember 2007, the Summer of Love. It was a special time, when all of us were San Franciscers, united in the overwhelming joy of watching Barry go for number 756.
I was always a fan of Barry and the Giants. “Cabezalito!” we’d yell and he’d turn and wave to the crowd, giddy with the love. And who didn’t love Barry, with his all-out style of left field play, his genuine warmth for the fans, his candor and friendliness with the press, the joy that seemed to flow to everyone around him?
Are you going to San Francisco?
You’d better wear some orange in your hair.
If you’re going to San Francisco,
You’re going to see the gentle Barry there.
2007. That song was on all our radios. The Summer of Love, and all of us felt the joy and peace because of Barry. He transcended sport to show us what we could be.
I went to a yoga class last night, then ate dinner at Triniti which was very good. It was a California kind of place, and they even had a Turley zinfandel on the wine list. I got home about 9 and turned on the game, but 10 is my bedtime. As I wondered off to read the top of the third ended with no runs, no hits, one man left on base. Our one run was a Snyder bomb in the 7th off of Bumgarner. Go ‘Stros.