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By George Vecsey, New York Times
October 23, 2002 -- Let's go to
the World Series. There's not a better place
than right here in downtown San Francisco.
Let's get there early. It's the first World
Series game here since 1989, plus the first
Series game in the old-timey three-year-old
ballpark right off the water.
The city is bustling. Seeing all the orange-and-black
decorations is a reminder of how well baseball
works in the heart of these grand old cities.
What a contrast between these two sites
for the all-California World Series. The
Angels' stadium is out in the sprawl of
Orange County, surrounded by parking lots
and nothing else. Here, 50 percent of the
fans do not need cars to get to the Giants'
games. We're staying out by Fisherman's
Wharf because the downtown hotels are either
full or charging huge World Series rates,
but that's all right. We can sightsee on
our way to the ballpark.
Let's start at the F-Line, the old trolley
cars that run from the Wharf to Market Street.
They look like a toy for tourists, but they're
the best way to get around the city. You
stick a dollar into that little machine
and get a transfer.
The F line has trolleys from all over the
world : Moscow, Osaka, Melbourne, New Orleans,
Hamburg. The other day I got on a trolley
from Milan, with lettering that said "Uscita"
instead of "Exit." It reminded
me of the time I went to an A.C. Milan game
against Napoli back in 1993, how the old
ladies with the blue hair and the fur coats
looked askance at the soccer fans using
their line to get out to San Siro Stadium.
Clang-clang. This American-made trolley
works its way alongside the renovated docks
and glitzy restaurants of the Embarcadero.
Up there on Telegraph Hill is Coit Tower.
Up ahead is the Bay Bridge, which lost a
section in the 1989 earthquake.
One blessing from the tragedy of 1989 was
the demolition of the ugly automobile overpass.
The trolley runs alongside trees and statues
and a waterfront that reminds me most of
another great city, Barcelona.
Not that I would wish the financial burden
that stems from being an Olympic host, but
downtown San Francisco would make a great
visual center for the 2012 Summer Games.
It would also save my hometown, New York,
from the aggravation.
The trolley turns inland along Market Street
and we transfer underground to the N line
of the Muni system. There are David and
Joan Peet of Vacaville, Calif., who will
share a large orange-and-black blanket,
and Dennis Firchow, who has been going to
games since the Seals were in the Pacific
Coast League.
The N train comes out of the ground near
Pacific Bell Park, and we get off at Second
and King streets, into a blaze of orange
and black ó the proud old Giants'
colors from the days of McGraw and Terry,
transplanted out here on Willie Mays's rippling
back in 1958. There is a steel band, 15
members strong, from the Chabot Panhandlers
of Chabot College in Hayward, Calif. People
stand around in the nasty drizzle.
Let's go inside and pause behind home plate.
The front seats are 45 feet from home plate
- closer than the pitching mound to home.
There is no private bullpen area, and relief
pitchers must warm up in a narrow strip
of foul territory.
Homage to history: Painted on a facade in
deep left field are the retired numbers
for Hubbell, Ott, McCovey, Marichal, Mays
and Cepeda, plus a sign that says, "Remember
'51." The Giants brought out Bobby
Thomson from New York when they unveiled
that sign.
Let's walk around to left field. Children
are playing whiffle ball in a miniature
Pac Bell play area. There is the huge replica
of a glove, 500 feet from home plate. If
a Giant hits a homer into the glove, some
fan wins $1 million. (There's insurance.)
They put it in left field, away from Barry
Bonds's power.
Let's walk along the rim of the bleachers
to right field. There are the ferries, unloading
fans from Tiburon and Oakland. There are
the kayakers getting ready for aquatic fly-ball
chasing. A few fans are dunking replicas
of the Anaheim rally monkey shortly after
spending good money to purchase them. Go
figure. Here is the narrow right-center-field
section where the two guys scrambled for
Bonds's 73rd home-run ball last fall, and
now they're scrambling in the judicial system.
Tonight, more potential plaintiffs and defendants
are eyeing each other for elbow room, in
case Barry slugs one.
Down there behind right field is a chain
link fence, the so-called Knothole area,
where fans are allowed to watch for free.
It's our lucky evening. Somebody does us
a favor and lets us squirm up to the fence.
Tony Bennett, who was singing his new hit
"I Left My Heart in San Francisco"
during the rain-delayed Series here in 1962,
sings it one more time, and people cheer.
There is good old Mays and McCovey, Marichal
and Cepeda, announced to the crowd.
Play ball. We belly up to the fence for
the first pitch. Edilberto Cario Jr., Ashkan
Khorami and Peter Mendenhall, all of Mountain
View, Calif., have been in line since 11
a.m., missing school and jobs to see three
innings of a World Series game for free.
The 100 fans jeer as the Angels walked Barry
Bonds in the bottom of the first. The World
Series is back in San Francisco.
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