In The Soft Orange Glow
WHAT CAN I TELL YOU? I love rooting for my team. If the San Francisco Giants Baseball team is playing I’m going to be tuned in. My passion is like the fans of the FIFA World Cup and the way they feel about their teams – (Go Upper Volta!!). And if you think I’m a fan you should meet my wife. She makes me look like an Atheist in the Vatican.
My wife, the lovely and True Believer, Dawn, was not born a Giants fan. I infected her with Giants Fever. She has always been a Baseball fan. She grew up watching and listening with her Grandfather as he tuned to KMOX broadcasts of St. Louis Cardinal games. She recalls that he sat in a darkened room with the only light being the orange glow from his old console radio and the glow from the tip of his cigarette. His imagination brought him the play-by-play of the game as clearly as any HD television would today. Dawn was made into a fan like so many of us were – in our mind’s eye.
Today Dawn and I share our fandom for “The Game” and “Our Boys” in particular.
We have spent many late nights watching and listening to the games when the Giants are playing at home in AT&T Park by the San Francisco Bay. Those home games start at 10:15 PM for us in Indiana. These days that often calls for a nap ahead of time and plenty of snacks to keep us fortified.
Even though we are a continent away we rarely miss a game. We even kept up with them when we were in Ireland a couple of years ago. Those games began at 4 AM local time. That was unimportant – the Game was everything.
At home in Terre Haute (That’s French for “He hits it high! He hits it deep! It is Outta Here!”) We subscribe to MLB-TV where we can catch almost every game – home and away. For those few games that are “Blacked Out” by the Evil Broadcasting Devils… Well, let’s just say that we have our ways of coming in the back door.
Cheering the team on to victory is not as simple as one, uninitiated person, might think. It requires us to be properly dressed and in a conducive atmosphere. Hence – The Shrine. Our collection of Bobbleheads, Cards, autographed baseballs, and other relics provide the proper milieu for victory.
Virtually every day I wear my giants cap. I have a Giants wristwatch (see picture) that holds “Certified Dirt” from the area around home plate at AT&T Park. That will live on as part of my estate when I am gone. On the back of the Toyota there is a Giants license plate frame and Dawn has a wardrobe of Giants shirts and socks that make the most fashionably correct woman in town.
I grew up a fan of the Pittsburgh Pirates. My father always took us to a couple of games every year at the old Forbes Field ball yard. He had gone there as a child and he passed on his love of The Game to me. We would watch the game and then, being my Old Man, he would walk us over to a nearby saloon that was owned by a retired Pirate player. It was there that I met Players, Scouts, and other aging fans like my father who fell in love with The Game sitting in the soft orange glow of their radio.