i guess the door will never close

When something happens for the first time, you don’t know what to do. When something happens for the second time, you can start traditions.

This is what I posted in 2010. I’m posting it again. Call it a tradition.

The Other Side of the Door

A little more than 8 years ago, the Giants were 8 outs away from winning the World Series, and had a five-run lead. A bit later, they were 6 outs away, and had a two-run lead. Four batters after that, they fell behind in Game Six, lost the game, lost Game Seven, and watched the Anaheim Angels celebrate their first World Series championship.

After watching Game Six, and seeing our hopes fade into dust, I wrote the following post on this blog, which wasn’t even a year old:

There was a woman I knew long ago named Debi. I met her when I lived with my brother in Capitola, and we got to be better friends later when I moved to Bloomington, Indiana for a year ... she lived there, too. After coming back to California to go to school, I returned to Bloomington for about a month in December of '72. A bunch of us stayed with friends Greg and Sandy, who had a pretty big house. Debi and I and another guy named David would sleep in the living room; my ex-girlfriend Pat had her own room; and, of course, Greg and Sandy had their own bedroom.

Debi was an interesting person, but she was also quite probably clinically insane. This meant that sometimes she was kinda off in another world, but it also meant sometimes she said just the thing that everyone was thinking, when the rest of us were silent out of some notion of social propriety.

I can still remember, some 30 years later, an evening when we'd all had a fine time getting fucked up and doing whatever it was we did back then. Greg and Sandy headed off to bed. As they closed the bedroom door, Debi looked after them with longing and said, "just once, I'd like to be on the other side of that door."

I thought of Debi tonight, as I watched the Giants blow the World Series.

Debi, if you’re out there tonight, the door is open.

Comments

[Cynthia]

did I comment two years ago? because we could be starting another tradition here and not even be aware of it.

thanks for sharing this ride with me! I guess I can do something tacky like wear a Giants sweatshirt in class this week with my professor from Ann Arbor. I may even have one that says "World Champions" on it if I get my act together.

[Steven Rubio]

I enjoyed your company! And my son, who kept a regular chat going, and my sister, who did the same, and everyone else who has called me or emailed me or texted me over the last few weeks.

[Joe McCann]

Can't help to think of my old fantasy friend Steven Rubio tonight. Congrats on Giants WS win.

[Steven Rubio]

Good to hear from you, Joe, and thanks for the congrats! Hope you're doing well.

[Chris]

Karen and I were talking this morning about how this World Series victory for the Giants, while delightful and amazing, didn't quite have the same, gut-wrenching effect as their victory two years ago. "You didn't cry this year," she said to me. (She might not have noticed I choked up when commenting on Romo jumping up and down like a 12-year-old kid.) When it takes 58 years for the first one, and the second one comes just two years later, I guess it is understandable that the second one might not have the same effect. But I was nervous and hopeful and discouraged and finally happy when the Giants swept, and I fell asleep last night reading every article I could about their remarkable journey through the playoffs. It will be sweep sweet for a long, long time!

[Nondisposable Johnny]

And now the cold, hard reality sets in Steven....You're a fan of the best organization in baseball. There's no getting around it.

[Artfan]

Congrats, Steven! It was kind of fascinating keeping track from a town that was doing its best to deny that baseball existed during this time. Thrilled for all my friends back in the Bay!