The first seasonal rain arrived ahead of schedule, no charge to recipient. How about the downpour in the top of the ninth, the score a perfect 9 to 0, exuberant fans getting a fabulous drenching! They’re not gonna forget that one, that last pop fly going up in the rain, and down in the glove. Name the baby Marco. I’m not either, though I didn’t see it. I was listening on the radio, fittingly, since I grew up listening to the Kansas City A’s driving tractor. Bitter milk.
Giants fans are everywhere. City Hall is a giant orange popsicle. At the opera last night, Jake Heggi, before taking a bow for his opera Moby Dick, donned a Giants cap to appreciative laughter and applause. Call us rainy weather fans. I’m actually still a bigger Kansas City Royal fan. Send donations.
Mostly I’m a rain fan. Everything, every cell in the garden is vibrating with 3 degrees more intensity. The light is pumpkin colored; maybe that’s Giants fever too. Probably not. When I stand in it I look ten years younger. Everybody does.