The San Francisco Giants are bad. I am a San Francisco Giants fan. If I had a brain, I would put two and two together and not watch the Giants play. Well, apparently I’m a Scarecrow, because I saw the abomination with my own eyes.
Call me foolish, it’s fair. However, I live in Chicago, and the Giants usually only come here once or twice a year. So I figured, ‘Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?’ The worst did happen.
I went to the game where the Giants got blown out. No, not that one, the one before that. As I left the stadium in the 8th inning (feeling like a Dodgers fan, except they do it in a one run game), I could only think one thing. And that was, “Wow, I just watched my favorite team get ‘pantsed.'”
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This was no ordinary “pantsing” mind you. It’d be like if you’re best friend asked a girl to prom in the middle of class and she said no and then her boyfriend “pantsed” him right there in front of everyone. Everyone would be laughing and enjoying themselves, but you’d just be sitting there, wondering why you signed up for this class.
This is what it felt like watching the White Sox hit dinger after dinger after dinger. I laughed after the fourth one. I cried after the sixth one. I felt like my best friend had been pantsed. What was I to do? Watch him get pantsed again and again?
It was weird seeing Pablo in a Giants uniform again, but it was even weirder to see Hunter Pence, Joe Panik, Brandon Crawford, and Buster Posey on a losing team. I’ve had the great fortune of seeing those guys with my own eyes just months before they would win a World Series. It almost broke my heart to see them playing for nothing.
In the end, I left the stadium slightly embarrassed and dazed. I knew this team was bad, but the last I saw them with my own eyes, they were in Chase Field with a lead in the NL West. It was like I’d been shot. You see it in movies and you think, ‘Yeah, that looks bad.’ But I’d imagine getting shot in real life is a touch worse.
It is a touch worse to see your favorite team get pantsed in person.