"Beat LA"

Sunday afternoon, Vaughn and I were sitting by the Bay, enjoying garlic fries, the occasional breeze from McCovey Cove, the emerald green of the diamond, a sell-out crowd, lemonade, and free hats. And, of course, Giants-Dodgers.

Baseball is history, the immortality of narrative. Willie Mays. Joe DiMaggio growing up in San Francisco, the son of a fisherman. Pee Wee Reese, son of Kentucky, putting his arm around Jackie Robinson. Lou Gehrig and Babe Ruth. Honus Wagner versus Ty Cobb. The tragedy of Roberto Clemente dying in a plane crash at sea while on a charity mission.

Baseball is also the crack of the bat, the pristine foul lines, the ball sailing into the gap, outfielders diving full length to snag the ball. It is the neat rhythm of a double play, shortstop to second to first, or a perfectly placed sacrifice bunt, advancing runners through small ball (also known as the celebration of having no more power hitters since Bonds left).

But mostly, of course, it is about the hatred of all things Dodger.

It isn't that there is anything rational to the hatred. We share the same time zone. It's just a ball game. It's not like there's something really worth hating them for, like if they lived in a different country or gave a different name to their god.

But still, they're the Dodgers.






And this is what the world is all about: a pitchers' duel between Matt Cain and Chad Billingsley, Randy Winn (whom I've loved since he won the game I attended against the Nationals last year with an extra-innings base hit) and Aaron Rowand wreaking havoc for the Giants, Andre Ethier and Matt Kemp belting triples for the Dodgers. The Giants were leading until Manny Ramirez, late of Boston, doubled in two runs in the top of the seventh, prompting the Dodger fan next to us to propose marriage to Manny. I don't think his girlfriend objected, because she was a Dodgers fan too. I think she would understand the need to sacrifice for the greater good.

It has been a tough year for the Giants, full rebuilding mode, with young players peaking and falling, and the Giants out of the race before the season started, or so it seemed. And the Dodgers are in the pennant race, especially after getting Ramirez. It is fundamentally wrong for the Dodgers to be winning and the Giants to be losing.

But that is part of the fascination of baseball. Every day is a new day, a microcosm of the season as a whole; the best hitters only succeed 1/3 of the time, and the best teams lose more than that. If you stake all your hopes on your team winning every day, you're going to be miserable. It teaches patience, and an appreciation for the small matchups, the individual moments of the game and the visceral satisfactions they provide.

At least Jeff Kent had a rough day; after burning his bridges on his way out of town, the man went from hero to hated.

After Ramirez's double, the crowd was deflated, and the early emigration began.

Then, in the bottom of the ninth, everything changed. The Giants trailed, 4-3. The scoreboard flashed a "Rally Time" message, and the PA announcer started exhorting us to make some noise, and like a Pavlovian response, more than 40,000 people suddenly began to chant, "BEAT L. A.! BEAT L.A.!" All at once, 40,000 people were focusing their will on crushing that of 25 men in Dodger Blue.

Randy Winn singled hard down the right field line. Aaron Rowand singled. Runners on first and second. The Dodgers fans next to us (who had been polite and gracious all day, it has to be said) looked concerned, and started shrinking into themselves, a nonverbal "Oh shit" as the chants and stamping to "Beat LA!" rose in volume.

Omar Vizquel pinch hit, looking to sacrifice the runners along, but only popped out weakly to the catcher. Jose Castillo came up and grounded the ball down the third base line, with Casey Blake prepared to field and start a game-ending double play.

I don't know for sure that the crowd got into Blake's head, but he booted the ball. Everybody safe. Bases freaking loaded.

Emmanuel Burriss made contact, sending the ball up the middle. The pitcher might have been able to field it cleanly, but he didn't, and they only managed to force Castillo at second base. No double play. Rowand to third. Winn tied the game. Eugenio Velez, another of the young Giants, also hit the ball, not hard, but in the right place. The Dodgers shortstop kept it in the infield, but didn't stand a chance, Burriss sliding headfirst through the dirt into second base and Rowand sprinting home.

Unbelievable. The Giants aren't going to do much this year, but they have heart, and I feel like I am watching something good starting to grow.

And best of all, if only temporarily, we pulled the Dodgers a game and a half back of the Diamondbacks.

We beat L.A.