Matt Woolsey's baseball column "I Crushed My Heart In San Francisco" published yesterday in Forbes, while ostensibly about the Giants' first loss of the season, is chock full of oddly penetrating observations about San Francisco.
Warning: some of the following may cause S.F. natives to fly into an anti-New York rage. Just remember, Woolsey is a hometown boy:
"So much of San Franciscans' love for their city comes from what it used to have, which in turn creates a culture of waiting. We want Bob Dylan, Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg back at City Lights bookstore and Vesuvio bar on Broadway and Columbus in the same way we're waiting for the next Hitchcock to stylize the city."
"Adding to the frustration: Those artists and their works are the result of transplanted and already established genius. What you're left with is the sinking feeling that movements like Beats started in Greenwich Village, but moved to San Francisco for the weather."
"We also, admittedly, don't care about sports the way East Coast and Midwestern fans do. If the Philadelphia Phillies or Cleveland Indians miss the playoffs, then--wham!--it's back to reality in the rust belt with nothing on TV. Giants fans sigh and head to Napa for the weekend."