Flatiron II: Two-Zip and Believing

As usual, the knucklehead New York sports press got it wrong.

Needing to thread their deadline to cover World Series' games one and two, with Game Two still in the indeterminate future of the far-West Coast, the New York Times, for example, went with such frail headlines as "Refreshing Series Gives Hope to Those Seeking to Quench a Thirst," and "Weak-Hitting Giants Somehow Manage to Pummel their Opponent's Ace."

What it really came down to was the fact that because Major League Baseball coverage goes little further west than St. Louis, reporters from the Times were betting that any team like the Texas Rangers, capable of knocking off the lordly Yankees, must be both giant killers and "Giant Killers."

To clear up this misperception, all it really took was a visit to the Flatiron Sports Bar on Second and B streets in San Rafael at around 8 p.m. Thursday evening. It was just about this time when Giant's fans were going berserk over the fierce pitching of Matt Cain, the adroit defense of Juan Uribe, and the hitting, well, the hitting of about eight of the starting nine. I mean really, to have eviscerated what was represented as the best of Texas with 20 runs over two games, suggests either that the American League had a meager year, or that the 2010 San Francisco Giants may be one of the best teams to come along in decades.

I bet on the latter.

As do the 100-plus fans who had been multiplying since 4 p.m. "It's a work day," explains bartender and-co-owner, Sean Glas, who assures that "they will come."

As indeed they did and quickly begin to break the sound barrier as the game moves towards its eighth inning dénouement as the Giants brought up 11 batters, hit two singles, two doubles, one triple, record four walks, chewed up four Ranger pitchers and ultimately scored seven runs in an eighth inning that began, unpromisingly, with two quick Giant outs.

All of which suggested that the Giants may not be quite the "good pitch, no hit" team that reporters lazily tagged them, a team that, headlines assured, finessed its way into the World Series more or less by lucky accident.

Within a few minutes every one in the crowd at the Flatiron is either screaming the "Let's Go Giants" chant, or dancing to the suddenly very apt lyrics to the song by Queen drowning all else on the sound system: "We are the champions - my friends. And we'll keep on fighting - till the end - ... We are the champions, No time for losers, cause we are the champions ... We Are the Champions of the world."

Finally, the Fox television crew got it right, panning to a visibly rocked, shocked, Ranger's managing partner, on-the-first-try Hall-of-Fame electee, Nolan Ryan around whom, it is clear, for the next 48 hours or perhaps year or so, players and staff will be gently tiptoeing.

The game ends with bullpen pitchers Javier Lopez and Guillermo Mota finishing off the Rangers and completing the first San Francisco Giant's World Series shutout since left-handed ace, Jack Sanford, did it in Game Two of the 1962 World Series. That game, with wonderful coincidence, is the half-century twin of this, Game Two of the 2010 World Series. It is also an even happier coincidence that brings on my own private reverie, as I try to explain to my bar-mate, local developer and master-chef, Steve Rickley, who has stopped in for a couple of innings in lieu of what is the hottest ticket in the Bay Area since Bill Walsh ran the 49ers.

The story has to do with the fact that 50-years ago, to the exact baseball calendar day, my dad pulled me out of Mrs. Cohen's fifth-grade class at West Hartford's Bugbee Elementary for the day, and drove the faux-woody Ford station wagon the 100 miles southwest to Yankee Stadium in the Bronx. There, we watched Game Two of the 1962 World Series as that self-same Jack Sanford shutout the Yankees and set a Giants playoff strikeout record broken only two weeks ago by Tim Lincecum. For this, the second playoff game of the 2010 season, I had secured a seat at the Flatiron's bar and hoped that it would bring the same good fortune and sound baseball that has so far followed the team columnist Herb Caen lovingly called "The Jints."

So far so good, in fact, so far … wonderful. I always count it a good day when California crushes Texas at virtually anything. I count it an even better day when I can celebrate with no-longer-strangers at the Flatiron, and reverie back to a day when I was 10, and my dad was happy, no, make that delighted, to take the day off and take the kid to see the Giants beat the supposedly unbeatable American League champion.