Wednesday, December 8, 2010

An Out-of-Touch Tradition Brightens My Day

As most of my readers probably already know, I have some pretty strong opinions about politics.  I tend to criticize politicians a lot, particularly when I feel that they are wasting public resources.  So imagine my surprise when an out-of-touch tradition undertaken by politicians actually brightened my day on Tuesday.

Allow me to explain.

That guy wearing the blue shirt in the picture is named Gavin Newsom.  He's the mayor of San Francisco, leading one to assume that those people surrounding him are his staff.  Given where they're from and what they appear to be doing, one might assume that they had spent the afternoon hammering bong hits and developed a serious case of the munchies.
     (I mean, just look at the woman in the purple sweater.  No one smiles that much unless
      they're fried out of their mind, and the way she's holding that rib leads me to believe
      that she's being really flirtatious with someone outside of the picture.)

As it turns out, Newsom and his team were just enjoying some Texas barbecue courtesy of Arlington mayor Robert Cluck, the result of a World Series wager between the two.  Its a tradition that happens every year, with every major sporting event - Politician A from Championship City A wagers something that City A is famous for against Politician B from Championship City B.  In this case, it was Texas barbecue against San Francisco crabcakes.  Its a really dumb, unoriginal waste of time and resources.

But yesterday that dumb, unoriginal waste of time and resources brought a smile to my face.  It reminded me of how elated I was throughout the month of October, of how special it was to finally see the Giants win the World Series.  It reminded me of how nervous I was every night, watching my club barely grind out games by getting clutch hits and out-pitching their opponents.  It reminded me of how stellar some of our guys' performances were.  From Buster Posey to Brian Wilson, Matt Cain to Edgar Renteria, or Tim Lincecum to Bruce Bochy, our guys came through in the clutch, proving everybody wrong time and again. 

This past October trumped March 2003 (when Syracuse won the NCAA Hoops title) as the greatest sports month of my life.  It was an unbelievable stretch in which I was a ball of nerves every night, my stomach tied in knots.  And it was only when the Giants got that final out that my nerves finally relented, giving me a bit of relief.  It was a month of angst, a mild form of torture.

So when I saw Gavin Newsom bite into those ribs, it was like I was biting into them as well.  I could feel the tenderness of the meat between my teeth, and I could taste the sweetness of the barbecue sauce.

Those ribs tasted like victory.