This year, for the people of San Francisco and the cities surrounding it, winning the World Series wasn’t only about baseball. It was about a team of “misfits and castoffs” – a phrase oft heard to characterize this baseball team that just as easily describes the kind of people attracted to San Francisco – emerging glorious in this most American institution. It was about veterans and rookies, men of every skin color, American-born and immigrants, a group that symbolizes diversity in myriad ways. It was about the fact that no one cares that two-time Cy-Young-award winner Tim Lincecum has a penchant for pakalolo, because he plays in a state that, today, votes on marijuana’s legalization. It was about a team from a city that married hundreds of gay couples under the brave leadership of Mayor Gavin Newsom winning the grandest title in Major League baseball with teamwork, humility, and grace, but also a contagion of beards and a legendary red thong.
It’s been fifty-six years since the Giants won a World Series, and it’s the first one for the Giants since they’ve been in San Francisco. Fans old and new celebrated in the streets with an unmatched joy and abandon that had everything to do with the glory of the game itself, with Lincecum’s shut-out pitching and Edgar Renteria’s 3-run homer. But this was about more than just winning a ball game. This was about a gutsy sports team from a little city called San Francisco taking on the big guns, beating the odds, and proving wrong the naysayers, all with unparalleled spirit and liveliness and character, showing that we weirdos out West have what it takes to emerge victorious.