Being a Giants fan is like being in a relationship.
The kind where when it’s good it’s GOOD and when it’s bad, you want to do the emotional equivalent of jumping into McCovey Cove with concrete shoes on. I’m sure we are all familiar with this. You spend most of your time fighting, screaming at the top of your lungs, facepalming ’til you have a slight concussion, and finding the meaning to life in the bottom of a beer glass.
It’s unhealthy, torturous if you will. They lead you on, make promises they can’t keep, and string you along. Yet you just can’t let go. There’s too much history, and you’ve been through so much. Everytime you think you’ve had enough, a knight in shining orange and black like Bumbarner comes in to save the day, the bat actually hits the ball, and we win 6-0. We see the men we fell in love with, and are reminded of happier times.
So we continue to stand by our men. Through sickness and in health, slumps and half the team on the dl at one point or another, I will stand by my men. Today they begin a 10 day road trip, and will be there arms wide open when my babies come home. It’s the least I could do. Afterall, they did put a ring on it.