The Zong

This past weekend, I lived the San Francisco sports fan’s dream, as I attended a Giants-Dodgers game on Friday night (thanks Joe!) and then went to the Niners’ season opener on Monday evening. Never have I been able to contrast the fan experience, and the irony of said experience, so closely. Let me take an ungodly amount of space to tell you what I mean.

Sitting a scant 6 rows from the third base line on Friday, on a gorgeous late-summer evening, I couldn’t imagine wanting much more as a Giants fan, other than maybe having a team good enough to have a winning season. Still, I grew up watching this team when the “playoffs” meant trying to knock the Dodgers’ blue asses right out of the postseason, so I was riled up and ready to go, just like in the old days. You have to just try and enjoy the games, you see.

I learned quickly, however, that if you’re going to sit in the nice seats at a Gigantes game, you’d better enjoy the game quietly, and without standing up. Ever.

Joe Alterio, who was born and raised in Boston, actually brought me to the game, and was attending his first Giants game at the House that Bonds Built. (”Wow, this stadium is beautiful.”) I was hoping that, in spite of several other similar situations, Giants fans would be loud and rowdy and excited for baseball, like Red Sox fans have been since before it was cool. Instead, I was completely embarrassed to be a Giants fan by the third inning. When Jonathan Sanchez, who pitched very well, had two strikes on a guy with two outs, I stood up and began cheering while literally every fucking “fan” within 100 feet of me sat on their hands, quietly and politely, so as not to disturb the players, I guess. Everyone sitting in season-ticketville was as quiet as a whore in church, except for the elderly 45-year old sitting behind me, wearing a Giants hat.

“Could you SIT DOWN please? We’re trying to enjoy the game!”

That was when I looked around and saw what I didn’t really want to see: This new, special breed of Giants-game attendees, ever since the team moved out of Candlestick, are a disgrace to the team and to the city. I realize that the best seats in the park are expensive, and that rich people don’t like to yell about anything unless it involves the credit bubble, but I swear to you these fucking assholes were sitting less than 20 feet from the playing field, and couldn’t even bring themselves to clap for a strikeout. I’m convinced that, far from being unable to appreciate the beauty and excitement of the game itself, these people weren’t even sure what was going on most of the time.

And so it went, for the entire game, until the Giants won on a walk-off home run. (To scattered applause in my section) I asked some of the fans more than once why they didn’t just save their money and watch the game at home. Their ostrich-skin couches are probably far more comfortable than the seats at AT&T. As I got louder and more incensed by the insouciance of these “Be Seen Somewhere!” meatsacks, I was told on more than one occasion that I should “sit in the bleachers next time” or “start wearing a Dodger hat.” Maybe I will. Dodger Fan may come late and leave early, but at least it’s OK to yell a little bit at their FUCKING BASEBALL STADIUM.

Sorry for yelling. The bleacher comment really got me, though. I guess you pay more money for the right to sit down and read a good book at Giants games now.

I was redeemed on Monday for a time, however. Monday Night Football is exciting, no doubt, but The 49er Faithful were a fucking mob of goddamned maniacs at that football game. No matter how many times the ownership proves that they hate their fans, no matter how shitty the parking/restrooms/food/seats at Candlestick are, my brethren in red and gold showed the fuck up and made that stadium loud enough that I couldn’t hear an effing thing for the whole first half. I swear that I sat in the wrong section (I’ve been sitting in these seats since I was old enough to walk) at first because everyone was STANDING UP and I couldn’t see the section numbers.

Now, it’s true that there are a lot of douchebags at Niner games, and I’m sure that a lot of people don’t have fun at the games because they get into fights with the douchebags, but for the most part, in my section, everyone was having a fantastic fucking time, and we screamed our bloody heads off, and nobody even once told me to keep it down. Sure, things got kinda quiet when the Niners started to look like they did two years ago, but the end of the game was very exciting, and I’m telling you I probably have hearing damage from the volume after that game-winning drive.

So what’s the difference between the rowdy 49er Faithful and the anemic pussies digging into lobster bisque at Giants games? It’s not the ticket price–our tickets to AT&T were the best I’ve ever sat in, and the face value was $33 as compared to the cheapest seats at Candlestick for a Niner game, which stand at about fifty bucks. It’s not the teams’ measure of success–The 49ers packed the stadium full of screaming fans, and they haven’t even had a winning record since 2002. It’s surely not the stadium or the accommodations, as I couldn’t even get onions on my polish sausage when I ordered it, anywhere. Candlestick, though I do love it so, is a fucking disaster area, obviously at the behest of the Yorks.

I contend that the problem starts with seat licenses, an idea that sounds great on paper: Get the fans of the team to chip in a little extra so they can have great seats in the new stadium. Surely, the Giants built one of the most amazing professional sports venues in the world right on the waterfront with mostly private money, and I applaud them for such a grand design, but part of the plan included selling exorbitantly expensive “Charter Seats” to willing parties with deep fucking pockets. The result has been nothing less than a corporate buyout of the best seats in the park, ensuring that most of the fans with the best view of the game are only there because their company pays for the tickets, and lord knows you’ll have a tough time keeping clients if you can’t take them to a Giants-Nationals game on a Wednesday afternoon.

In addition, the charter licenses have become the property of more and more people who treat them like real-estate, and who buy and sell the licenses and seats like lofts in SOMA. A quick look on Craigslist for charter licenses reveals a little insight into why your typical orange-blooded Giants fan can’t really afford to go to many games, much less sit near the field.

What will become of the 49er Faithful if the Yorks get their wish and the team moves to Santa Clara? Surely, there are seat licenses involved, and we know how that worked out for the Oakland Raiders. On Monday, the frothy fervor of my fellow fans made me happy and excited, and made the game as enjoyable as any I’ve seen despite all the offensive futility. I do not look forward to the day when I drive to Santa Clara to use the $190 ticket I bought from a season-ticket holder trying to recoup some of the money he spent on his seat license, to watch my favorite football team play against the Cardinals, only to be told to sit down and be quiet by the guy behind me wearing a tie.

- M.G.