Tuesday night was fantastic.
I absolutely love football -- I've been a die-hard 49ers fan since I was old enough to really understand the game. My parents dressed me in baby 49er sweathshirts and toddler-sized Joe Montana jerseys. I grew to love not only the 49ers, but also the game itself. When I was ten I read Pro-Football Weekly and pored over the predictions in Football Digest all summer long. I memorized stats, read up on training-camp battles, kept up on signings and firings in the league. My love of football was so strong, I even watched a four-and-a-half hour preseason exhibition game in its entirety. I was, in a word, obsessed.
Although when I entered high school, then undergraduate, my obsession lessened to make way for cross-country practices, orchestra rehearsals, and 7 a.m. AP Bio labs, I still followed the NFL and could be found in front of the TV switching from FOX to CBS on any given Sunday. I can still talk football with anyone -- Zach sometimes introduces me as, "This is Krista. She knows more about football than most guys." My obsession with football meant that football was the only true sport in my mind. All other sports were pointless. Basketball was boring. Soccer was unexciting. And don't even get me started on baseball. To this day, I get super excited when training camp starts and football games begin again. I skipped the law school luau my first year because it was opening night -- Patriots vs. Oakland on a Thursday -- and talked Jared into going to Legends with me to watch the game. When my other friends tried to talk me into going to the luau, I explained, "I have to deal with seven and a half months of crappy sports. I want to enjoy the first game of the season. It cannot be missed."
This summer, I went to my first two baseball games: one for intern appreciation day at the AG's office, the other because my best friend managed to score four tickets. I had a blast at both. Even though my interest in baseball never grew past San Mateo's Little League (give me a break . . . my brother is ten years younger than me and loves playing little league), going to those two games sparked my interest . . . or, at the very least, made me reconsider my whole "Baseball is stupid" theory. The first game the Giants won, though Barry Bonds did not hit a home run during any of his three at bats. The second game was, in a word, historical.
Yes, I saw Barry Bonds hit #756 to break Hank Aaron's record. The excitement and energy, the cheering, the fireworks, the . . . everything made Tuesday night amazing. The Giants ended up losing the game, with our incredibly overpaid pitcher (do you like how I've figured that out despite having zero interest in baseball up until mid-July?) giving up three homeruns. But none of it mattered. I doubt that fifty years from now when I'm telling my grandson about witnessing baseball history, I'll remember the score of the game. Most other fans didn't even stay past the sixth inning once it became clear that Bonds was removed from the lineup . . . they only came in hopes of seeing that historic record-breaking homerun. Tickets were selling for $700 outside the ballpark with two hours left before gametime . . . Christine joked late in the 7th inning, "Man, I could've had $2800 dollars. I could be shopping right now." But we all knew that she was joking -- even though she doesn't follow any sports and had even less of an understanding of baseball than myself.
I texted everyone until the lines got jammed and my texts stopped getting sent. One of my first texts to was a ND Law alum (class of 2008). He and his friends (also '08 alums) have been taking a post-bar exam ballpark tour and caught the Giants game the previous night. I, of course, ungraciously ended my message, "See? You guys should've stayed an extra day!" But they were excited -- despite not being SF fans -- and simply responded "Give us more details! Where did he hit it?"
I could go on and on about the fun I had on Tuesday night. I could talk about the fireworks (which Christine deemed "the best part of the homerun"), the paparazzi style flashes going off every time the pitcher would go into his windup, the Hank Aaron video or Barry Bonds' thank you message. But somehow, I feel like the magic and excitement of that night could not possibly be explained here -- at least not by me. It's like when people ask what Notre Dame football weekends are like -- it's something I can't describe other than to say, "you have to see it and feel it to understand it."
All I really want to say is that, while I may be biased as a SF girl, Barry Bonds deserved every second of cheering. I am so glad he hit #756 in front of an adoring crowd who chanted, "Bar-ry! Bar-ry! Bar-ry!" through the first five innings. What he has done is incredibly impressive regardless of any controversy. He has worked hard, he has long been recognized as a talented player, and has the raw talent that any sports superstar needs in order to be truly great. Is he a jerk? Undoubtedly. But so is Joe Montana. So are many sports heroes. They may not be great role models, but there is no doubt that their records and achievements are nonetheless impressive. Not to mention the fact that we live in a society of "innocent until proven guilty." Even Tom Brady has been linked to Balco. Don't even get me started on the fact that after years of investigation, there's still not enough for a grand jury to indict Barry Bonds.
Tuesday night was a night for the record books. And even though football will always be my first love, Tuesday's game will always hold a special place for me.
Barry Bonds at bat in the 5th inning.
Firework celebration!
Road to History/Hank Aaron video. Hank Aaron was certainly gracious about being dethroned as the "Homerun King."
Barry Bonds' thank you.
Group pic! Christine miraculously gets these four free tickets and Alex, Hope and I luck out! For some unexplainable reason, her brother and father -- both huge sports fans -- elect not to go.
Yes, I do wear football stuff to a baseball game.
Although when I entered high school, then undergraduate, my obsession lessened to make way for cross-country practices, orchestra rehearsals, and 7 a.m. AP Bio labs, I still followed the NFL and could be found in front of the TV switching from FOX to CBS on any given Sunday. I can still talk football with anyone -- Zach sometimes introduces me as, "This is Krista. She knows more about football than most guys." My obsession with football meant that football was the only true sport in my mind. All other sports were pointless. Basketball was boring. Soccer was unexciting. And don't even get me started on baseball. To this day, I get super excited when training camp starts and football games begin again. I skipped the law school luau my first year because it was opening night -- Patriots vs. Oakland on a Thursday -- and talked Jared into going to Legends with me to watch the game. When my other friends tried to talk me into going to the luau, I explained, "I have to deal with seven and a half months of crappy sports. I want to enjoy the first game of the season. It cannot be missed."
This summer, I went to my first two baseball games: one for intern appreciation day at the AG's office, the other because my best friend managed to score four tickets. I had a blast at both. Even though my interest in baseball never grew past San Mateo's Little League (give me a break . . . my brother is ten years younger than me and loves playing little league), going to those two games sparked my interest . . . or, at the very least, made me reconsider my whole "Baseball is stupid" theory. The first game the Giants won, though Barry Bonds did not hit a home run during any of his three at bats. The second game was, in a word, historical.
Yes, I saw Barry Bonds hit #756 to break Hank Aaron's record. The excitement and energy, the cheering, the fireworks, the . . . everything made Tuesday night amazing. The Giants ended up losing the game, with our incredibly overpaid pitcher (do you like how I've figured that out despite having zero interest in baseball up until mid-July?) giving up three homeruns. But none of it mattered. I doubt that fifty years from now when I'm telling my grandson about witnessing baseball history, I'll remember the score of the game. Most other fans didn't even stay past the sixth inning once it became clear that Bonds was removed from the lineup . . . they only came in hopes of seeing that historic record-breaking homerun. Tickets were selling for $700 outside the ballpark with two hours left before gametime . . . Christine joked late in the 7th inning, "Man, I could've had $2800 dollars. I could be shopping right now." But we all knew that she was joking -- even though she doesn't follow any sports and had even less of an understanding of baseball than myself.
I texted everyone until the lines got jammed and my texts stopped getting sent. One of my first texts to was a ND Law alum (class of 2008). He and his friends (also '08 alums) have been taking a post-bar exam ballpark tour and caught the Giants game the previous night. I, of course, ungraciously ended my message, "See? You guys should've stayed an extra day!" But they were excited -- despite not being SF fans -- and simply responded "Give us more details! Where did he hit it?"
I could go on and on about the fun I had on Tuesday night. I could talk about the fireworks (which Christine deemed "the best part of the homerun"), the paparazzi style flashes going off every time the pitcher would go into his windup, the Hank Aaron video or Barry Bonds' thank you message. But somehow, I feel like the magic and excitement of that night could not possibly be explained here -- at least not by me. It's like when people ask what Notre Dame football weekends are like -- it's something I can't describe other than to say, "you have to see it and feel it to understand it."
All I really want to say is that, while I may be biased as a SF girl, Barry Bonds deserved every second of cheering. I am so glad he hit #756 in front of an adoring crowd who chanted, "Bar-ry! Bar-ry! Bar-ry!" through the first five innings. What he has done is incredibly impressive regardless of any controversy. He has worked hard, he has long been recognized as a talented player, and has the raw talent that any sports superstar needs in order to be truly great. Is he a jerk? Undoubtedly. But so is Joe Montana. So are many sports heroes. They may not be great role models, but there is no doubt that their records and achievements are nonetheless impressive. Not to mention the fact that we live in a society of "innocent until proven guilty." Even Tom Brady has been linked to Balco. Don't even get me started on the fact that after years of investigation, there's still not enough for a grand jury to indict Barry Bonds.
Tuesday night was a night for the record books. And even though football will always be my first love, Tuesday's game will always hold a special place for me.
Barry Bonds at bat in the 5th inning.
Firework celebration!
Road to History/Hank Aaron video. Hank Aaron was certainly gracious about being dethroned as the "Homerun King."
Barry Bonds' thank you.
Group pic! Christine miraculously gets these four free tickets and Alex, Hope and I luck out! For some unexplainable reason, her brother and father -- both huge sports fans -- elect not to go.
Yes, I do wear football stuff to a baseball game.