Crowd Sourced: Dodgers at Giants
When the subject of sports rivalries comes up in conversation, rarely is the ensuing discussion one that produces a consensus of opinions. Rather than a cordial debate of the merits of a specific team or pairing of cities, a more typical course of this type of interaction is a downward spiral of bickering, debasing, and the inevitable exclamation of “[insert team name here] sucks!” I grew up well within the borders of the storied New York-Boston sports rivalries, the most notorious of which can be found between their respective baseball teams. The 2003 and 2004 ALCS were two of the most heated playoff series in the last decade, both spanning seven games, both filled with jubilant instances of triumph and heartbreaking moments of despair regardless of which team one supported. I experienced these fourteen games while away at a college seemingly equally balanced between Yankees-loving New Yorkers, Boston-loving New Englanders, and opportunistic Mets fans (“but the Red Sox are my AL team!”). I still find it both entertaining and dumbfounding that two groups of people who would otherwise be good friends with similar interests could hate one another so vehemently for two weeks in October based entirely on the fact that they grew up three hours apart, but hey, that’s sports (and in many other cases, hey, that’s territorial human relations). Given my proximity and involvement in this particular rivalry for a number of years, I often bristled at the suggestion that another American sports matchup could approach the level of intensity found in Yankees-Sox, let alone another one found in baseball.
Then I moved to California. And I’m here to tell you that Dodgers-Giants is no joke.
The particular game I attended was actually a bit of a blowout, a 10-2 win for the Dodgers in the opening game of the series where the Giants’ starting pitcher couldn’t even make it past the third inning. These things happen over the course of a season, and as I had little vested interest in the outcome of the game, it didn’t really detract too much from the overall experience. And believe me, it was an experience.
This past week the Bay Area was mildly crippled by a BART strike in which the trains connecting the greater San Francisco area ceased to run and virtually anyone commuting between the city and the East Bay (read: a lot of freaking people) ceased to get around in a convenient manner. Lines for ferries stretched on and on, traffic on the bridges came to a standstill, and even a beefed-up bus system couldn’t handle the density of displaced travelers. Talks between the workers’ union and their employers were going nowhere, and the strike continued on through the busy 4th of July holiday without any regard for the revelers attending a variety of celebratory events. Then, miraculously, at 3:00 PM PST this past Friday, the trains began running again despite the fact that a deal had still not been reached, with negotiators stating both sides were most concerned about getting the rail up and running in time for the Giants game. The A’s, meanwhile, had been having home games all week without anyone in the transportation industry seeming to notice, and I remain somewhat doubtful that the BART would have been reactivated prior to first pitch if, say, the Brewers were coming into town. The Dodgers though? That’s worth breaking the picket line.
I hopped onto the [completely empty] train in the late afternoon and made my way into the city. It was still reasonably sunny and warm at that time, but as anyone who has spent a day in San Francisco during the summer can attest, the weather was due to change rapidly at any moment. When I lived in Seattle and attended Mariners games, one of my favorite things about Safeco Field was its proximity to the original Pyramid Alehouse; in similar fashion, AT&T Park scores points before one even enters its gates by being located only a few blocks from 21st Amendment Brewery. Naturally, it was packed until it was nearly time for the game to begin, filled to capacity with people of all ages donned in orange and black. After departing the brewery, however, the color scheme of fans’ attire became more diverse, making it easy to decipher who was rooting for whom – there is no confusion between bright Giants orange and vibrant Dodger blue. I had managed to wear a burnt orange “Keep Austin Weird” shirt as an attempt to fit in, only to realize at that very moment that the windbreaker I had brought for when the fog began to roll in was the exact same color as all the LA hats entering the park around me. I am an idiot, I thought, but at least I have options.
Our seats were up a ways in right field, which actually worked out perfectly in terms of the evolving weather of San Francisco Bay. I had been told many times of how picturesque the ballpark is, so I had tempered my expectations assuming they would not be met otherwise; as it turns out, I had no need to be worried. The setting sun glistening off the water to my right, the skyline of downtown San Francisco to my left, the Bay Bridge extending into the distance…even the facade of the scoreboard and adjacent trees and signage contributed to the aesthetics. I don’t think it’s appropriate to crown a “most beautiful ballpark” without having visited them all, but other stadiums attaining my future attendance will be hard-pressed to top the Giants’ home turf. Our seats were ideal for appreciating this view, and had the added bonus of being sheltered from the winds and fog that began rolling off the ocean when the sun disappeared behind the horizon. It got cold quickly, with only a lone kayak braving the waters outside the right field wall in McCovey Cove.
When I was much younger, I remember going to Shea Stadium during an interleague subway-series battle where “Let’s Go Yankees” and “Yankees Suck” were shouted in similar volume and perfect cadence to compliment one another throughout the game. Despite the early disparity in score, this game was very similar in terms of fan distribution, enthusiasm, and spirited interaction between opposing sides. While the majority of those in attendance were rooting for the Giants, the Dodgers fans certainly made themselves heard. “Beat LA” cheers erupted at random throughout the entire game, as did roars of positive reinforcement for up-and-coming sensation Yasiel Puig and seven-RBI machine Juan Uribe. Temperaments between fans ranged from “I wish you weren’t here” to “If you say another word to me I will make sure you are no longer here”, everything coming to a head early on between two young, inebriated supporters wearing jerseys of opposing squads. Things escalated from shouting to near-blows, with two geriatric staff members observing the situation giving way to armed policemen keeping the peace, eventually turning into the former adversaries buying one another beers and becoming the best of rival-friends. That became the overall sentiment for interactions during the evening: we hate you, you hate us, and we both will derive pleasure from this back-and-forth antagonizing.
As the innings wore on and the result became all but certain, much of the crowd began to disperse. This is one of my favorite parts of attending professional baseball games, as the enforcement of appropriate seating arrangements becomes lax and upgrades are all but guaranteed. We managed to work our way down to the first base line, only a few rows back from the dugout, and shortly thereafter I came within ten feet of finally snagging a foul ball yet another time in my life; I’m holding out hope that it will happen eventually. Regardless of outcome or souvenirs, however, I can honestly say this was one of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had attending a baseball game. The park was gorgeous, the fan interactions were entertaining, and the rivalry is certainly vibrant, current records notwithstanding. This rivalry may have started in New York, but it has spanned a continent without skipping a beat. We’d all be lucky to experience it in person.