Starved for News...
So I'm Leap-frogging around the Giants BlogSphere annoyed that nobody's updated today. Then, of course, I realize that I haven't updated myself and I wonder if anyone is periodically hopping into my neck of the woods only to growl with discontent at the lack of my own updates.
I can dream.
Of course, the main reason nobody is blogging is that there isn't anything to blog about. We signed Omar. Old news. Barry won the MVP. Old and obvious news. What else is there to talk about in the off-season?
We are starving for news. Something. Anything that will get us to March. Oh sure, we were mildly interested in the happenings of the AFL, but aside from a decent (not fantastic, just decent) showing by Aardsma, there wasn't much of interest to chat about.
It must be hard for those who actually PLAY the game. They need their time off, they want to get away. But we fans- we few, we happy few- want the latest every moment of every day. Even during the season, I sometimes feel that it's not enough.
"What? We lost today? Are we playing again tonight? What!!! I have to wait until tomorrow? And it's gonna be a night game tomorrow? That's more than 24 hours without Giants' Baseball!"
And don't even talk to me about the All-Star break.
Why are we so addicted to this game? To the team, the players, the stats, the results? What drives this inner fire?
Me? I like being a part of something greater than me. I married into a family of die-hard Red Sox fans. So I spent this last post-season living vicariously through them. From the lows to the ultimate high. When the Sox won it, my father-in-law and brothers-in-law were a part of a euphoria that can't be described in words. And I want to be a part of that.
but if it's all about winning, why don't I just become a Yankees' fan and be done with it? Don't know.
But it probably has something to do with going to games at Candlestick with my Dad at the age of 11 or 12. Watching Milt May crouch behind the plate. Living through the Randy Kutcher month. Getting Dan Gladden's autograph in Arizona when you could still walk up morning of and get a good ticket in Scottsdale.
We all have those moments. I was there in '82 when Joe Morgan hit the homerun. I really was. Just as I was there in 1997 when Florida whooped our butts and the sell-out crowd left the stadium dejected, but for some reason chanting "Druckenmiller! Druckenmiller!" I got married on October 7th, 200, a date made easier to remember because that was when Estes made his bone-headed baserunning play against the Mets.
The Giants are a part of my life. And I never want to be without them. And now, in the off-season, I am starving for my fix.
How about you?