When I was a kid growing up in the Western Addition we lived two blocks away from big, bashful Willie McCovey, everybody's favorite Giant. (Willie Mays was the greatest baseball player of all time and as such was too monumental a figure for mere affection.) It was right around this time that the West Coast Giants were heading toward their first pennant, a seminal event that occurred when they were 4 years old and I was 2. I was, of course, unfazed by the incident and didn't make it out to Candlestick myself until August 1968, for Matt O'Rielly's birthday party. I don't remember who was playing or who won, but there was an exciting brush fire on a nearby hill, and a cop chased a wise guy through the stands for several minutes, and my hot dog... More >>>