The Giants Win the Penant (...)!

It only seems like the wait between posts has lasted longer than the Giant's World Series drought, and, incredibly, both streaks are over!

There is so much to say since the last post, Hunter started school, left school, found another school, some minors were trapped and freed and the Giants won the World Series. Did I say that yet?

We all know how big a Giant's fan I am, I even got so caught up in the frenzy of all the band-wagoners that I felt a little cramped in the train, people asking me how long I had been a Giants fan, or how many games had I been to? I began to get mad. That is like asking how long I have had black hair (of course, my students will say not for much longer, but that is a different story) and I was often annoyed at people for joining the fad, as if they could just slip on a black and orange hat and wear it like a yellow bracelet and live strong with 35 million others. So when I think back to last month, I remember my favorite moment very clearly. I was proud and I wanted to claim some sort of credit, or at least wear a badge showing how long I had suffered.

My entire lifetime the Giants went without winning, and blindly I followed because I was raised to care that way. My poor dad was such a suffering fan, that he had proudly come to live by the motto which states "all I ask is for meaningful games in September." In other words they have been so bad he only hope for mediocrity. So it was with great pride of knowing a familial wish had been fulfilled, as one of my dad's greatest dreams had been accomplished, so too were mine. And it was this pride that I too had a moment of fatherly pride fulfilled.

It was the moment Hunter learned to ride a two-wheeler. Now, I know you may think this has very little to do with the Giants, hang with me. Remember I was consumed, I mean this was the culmination of a life's passion. I was lucky enough to go to four of the games, imploring Heather that this is a once in a lifetime event. One of the games I went to was game 2 of the World Series, (the YouTube link has too much swearing so imagine this in Jack Nicholson's voice for all you movie buffs) -- we're talking about the World Series-- and the celebration the ensued lasted for hours in the streets as it could only in San Francisco. People were lingering around the park breaking into random group hugs, or quietly joyously crying together. It was intense, moments I will always cherish. And it was punctuated by Hunter.

Or should I say I was so emboldened by the Giants accomplishing the impossible, I hubristically pushed Hunter beyond the bounds of his family name.

In case you have not heard, Hunter likes to play outside. And so I play outside. And I noticed when he would ride his bike down our little street on his little Thomas the Train bike (I know it makes no sense, a ride-able train perhaps, but a bike just seems like shameless advertisement). So, anyway, down the street he go like the Little Engine That Could- or, listing to the side like a boat fighting the wind more accurately- and he would go maybe twenty thirty yards without his training wheels hitting the ground.

We have another bike with no training wheels so I convinced him to try that for like ten feet and he got off for the day. The next day, the same thing with his mom. The third day, was the day I came I home from the Giant's parade. Still euphoric from the historic event, I decided to take the training wheels off the Thomas bike. He is just barely three so it was a bit risky and I then I had a couple of flashbacks.

I remember when I learned how to ride my bike I was like 8 or 19 or something and I went with my dad and a buddy and his dad to my high school. We learned to ride together but it took lots of lumps and I was way too old to not know how to ride a bike. The fact that we lived on a steep hill was no excuse.

Of course, that is nothing like the time when I was like 6 and I tried to "learn" how to ride a skateboard by myself so I sneaked my brothers. It was about about 4 inches wide with a slippery, wobbly metal deck but I mounted it and considered bombing that same steep hill anyway. I sat cautiously at the top of hill girding myself, eventually paying no heed to the speed bumps or how far they might launch me. I stared down the hill, choosing my route carefully. The old mountain road was barely wide for a car and had a severe cliff on the right hand side. With a deep breathe of defiance I pushed off. Immediately I was flying like Superman! Flying down the hill, that is, until I bounced into a ditch. The board had almost immediately flown out from under me and went careening completely off the cliff, sending me yard sailing across the road and into that ditch which was covered with poison oak but not until I bounded like a super ball three or four times. That was me, and this is my son, so I had these thoughts while I was holding onto his shirt as he pedaled so ferociously I had to run behind him.

It took him about fifteen feet before I let go and he took off. And there is no looking back. I wish he would look back more because as he speeds by yelling I'm Faster Than You I wonder if he can see into my memories and know that he really is faster than me.

I should not be surprised because one day he saw one of those Razor scooters and tried to ride it and did not seem to like it. It was a Thursday. On Friday he went with my parents to Tahoe and found his cousin's old Razor. When I talked to him that day he had been out riding the scooter all day and could do moves. Need I remind you of my first day on a skateboard?

He was doing wheelies on the first day, and the joy on his face was matched only by his dad's face, on well... pretty much that whole week. That has to be one of the greatest weeks of my life.

Actually, one of the great parts about living where we live is that there is a bunch of kids on our little street. Hunter loves playing with neighbor Jacob and there is another litttle boy up the street and they ride around at night in their own little biker gang, the Blinking Light Boys as they are sometimes called. Because they started riding as a group just in the last month or so, it is dark when they ride, so I hooked them all up with little blinking bike lights so the cars could see them. Pretty cute.

There seems to be no stopping him physically. I hope to teach him to ski starting this week. Every time I ask him if he wants to learn how ski, he snarls at me and says "I already know how, dad." So my job should be pretty easy.




Certainly it will happen before the Giants win another World Series. That can't be a once in a lifetime event, can it?