A very creative & clever friend of mine- Dan St. Paul wrote this poem. I love it and wanted to keep it in a safe place because is so wonderfully summarizes the 2012 season:
The Giants 2012 season in verse
A season like no other. Jam-packed with thrills and spills:
The return of Buster Posey, his replenished wealth of skills;
Buster, Melky, Pablo, they owned the All-Star Game,
It looked while we were rolling and then the bad news came:
Cabrera was caught cheating, and thus besmirched his name,
Melkmen and maids departed, in the shadow of his shame.
Then Angel, Marco
, Hunter Pence suddenly emerge
The Brandons started belting, Barry Zito found his curve,
The Rockies, D-backs, Dodgers were left to eat our dust
We blazed into the playoffs, our confidence robust!
But Dusty and his Redlegs rode in with arms and bats;
They sprayed and whacked and crushed the ball. They racked up monster stats.
We watched in awe, we shook our heads, we stared without a grin.
Is October really over? We're only two weeks in!
Take three in Cincinnati? That's a feat that's not been done.
We're fight against history, after scoring just two runs!
Game One turned out a squeaker. We went an extra frame
Then Rolen boots a grounder and we play another game.
Game Two saw Zito struggle, but our hitters come alive,
And Timmy to the rescue, our hopes are now revived.
Game 3 brought Cain and with him pain, and the biggest blow of all
Mighty Buster at the bat. Grand slam! Son, touch'em all!
Now the Giants are still seeing red, but birds not legs this time,
The Cardinals are gamers, lots of hitters in their prime.
We drop Game One, but then come back, and go to their place tied,
But then we lose, and lose again, down three to one, we're fried!
It's all on Barry Zito, that's right, it's him again.
Can he go at least three innings before Bochy calls the pen?
But wait, it's the 8th. He's still on the mound. I can't believe my eyes.
He shut 'em out and struck out six, that's Sandy Koufax in disguise!
Still two to win, but coming home, returning to our yard
We've got momentum with us, this can't be all that hard!
Vogie's back up on the slab, all business, never smiles
He's waited far too long for this. He's traveled many miles.
He allows one run, 4 hits, one walk, and rattles off 9 Ks,
That's a record for the veteran, his fastball was ablaze.
Game 7 for the pennant and what did we all see?
Belt belting, Crawford leaping, Cardinal hitters absentee.
Affeldt, Lopez hurling, whirling, dealing smoke and pain.
Holliday pops out and I'm screaming in the rain:
"They did it, man! They did it! I can't believe it's true!
I said 'We're dead' two times before, but still these guys came through!"
Now the Tigers beat the Oakland A's and swept the pin-striped crew
But the fences here are long and the ball is smaller too.
You see, our guys are athletes. They run and stretch and dive.
Their bats aren't big but their hearts are, when down they come alive.
You'll outweigh us, not outplay us. That we'll guarantee.
You haven't played in seven days. We're on a winning spree!
Now to understand how Verlander would meet his fate that night
You had to know the Panda would record books rewrite.
A homer then another made Justin not so perky,
Then a boomer out to center went out past Albuquerque!
Suddenly the Giants are ahead one game to none.
I kind of like this feeling. It's not torture. This is fun.
Game Two, we're out of starters. Who's that tall guy with the stubble?
Oh that's Madison Bumgarner. He sure ain't no Carl Hubell.
He hasn't pitched for 18 days. The Reds, they spanked him good.
They say his arm, it's all worn out, it might just be dead wood.
But Gardy and Righetti, they work to make him ready.
They fixed his hitch, erased the glitch, his motion's faster, steady.
Madison he strikes out 8 and just allows two hits
Their fans are all frustrated, their hitters having fits.
Game 3 is Vogie's baby, but Timmy must come in
We've only got a 2 run lead. Let's shut 'em down and win.
He strike's out 3, allows no hits, two innings and third.
The Tigers must be hiding, only kittens can be heard.
Game 4. Let's go do it. Let's finish it today.
Don't let them bring back Verlander. Don't give anything away.
We're leading after one. We know we'll soon be cruising
When Cabrera sticks one in the seats and what’d you say "We're losing?”
We’ll take care of that. Go grab a bat. Things will soon be rosy.
A two run jack! That’s right, we’re back! Thank you, Buster Posey.
Then Scutaro, the guy you want when the chips are down
Knocks in his teammate Theriot to give us back our crown.
So I’ll see you daytime Halloween on Market Street I’ll cheer:
“Let’s go, Giants! You’re the champs! I’ll see you here next year!”
The Brandons started belting, Barry Zito found his curve,
The Rockies, D-backs, Dodgers were left to eat our dust
We blazed into the playoffs, our confidence robust!
But Dusty and his Redlegs rode in with arms and bats;
They sprayed and whacked and crushed the ball. They racked up monster stats.
We watched in awe, we shook our heads, we stared without a grin.
Is October really over? We're only two weeks in!
Take three in Cincinnati? That's a feat that's not been done.
We're fight against history, after scoring just two runs!
Game One turned out a squeaker. We went an extra frame
Then Rolen boots a grounder and we play another game.
Game Two saw Zito struggle, but our hitters come alive,
And Timmy to the rescue, our hopes are now revived.
Game 3 brought Cain and with him pain, and the biggest blow of all
Mighty Buster at the bat. Grand slam! Son, touch'em all!
Now the Giants are still seeing red, but birds not legs this time,
The Cardinals are gamers, lots of hitters in their prime.
We drop Game One, but then come back, and go to their place tied,
But then we lose, and lose again, down three to one, we're fried!
It's all on Barry Zito, that's right, it's him again.
Can he go at least three innings before Bochy calls the pen?
But wait, it's the 8th. He's still on the mound. I can't believe my eyes.
He shut 'em out and struck out six, that's Sandy Koufax in disguise!
Still two to win, but coming home, returning to our yard
We've got momentum with us, this can't be all that hard!
Vogie's back up on the slab, all business, never smiles
He's waited far too long for this. He's traveled many miles.
He allows one run, 4 hits, one walk, and rattles off 9 Ks,
That's a record for the veteran, his fastball was ablaze.
Game 7 for the pennant and what did we all see?
Belt belting, Crawford leaping, Cardinal hitters absentee.
Affeldt, Lopez hurling, whirling, dealing smoke and pain.
Holliday pops out and I'm screaming in the rain:
"They did it, man! They did it! I can't believe it's true!
I said 'We're dead' two times before, but still these guys came through!"
Now the Tigers beat the Oakland A's and swept the pin-striped crew
But the fences here are long and the ball is smaller too.
You see, our guys are athletes. They run and stretch and dive.
Their bats aren't big but their hearts are, when down they come alive.
You'll outweigh us, not outplay us. That we'll guarantee.
You haven't played in seven days. We're on a winning spree!
Now to understand how Verlander would meet his fate that night
You had to know the Panda would record books rewrite.
A homer then another made Justin not so perky,
Then a boomer out to center went out past Albuquerque!
Suddenly the Giants are ahead one game to none.
I kind of like this feeling. It's not torture. This is fun.
Game Two, we're out of starters. Who's that tall guy with the stubble?
Oh that's Madison Bumgarner. He sure ain't no Carl Hubell.
He hasn't pitched for 18 days. The Reds, they spanked him good.
They say his arm, it's all worn out, it might just be dead wood.
But Gardy and Righetti, they work to make him ready.
They fixed his hitch, erased the glitch, his motion's faster, steady.
Madison he strikes out 8 and just allows two hits
Their fans are all frustrated, their hitters having fits.
Game 3 is Vogie's baby, but Timmy must come in
We've only got a 2 run lead. Let's shut 'em down and win.
He strike's out 3, allows no hits, two innings and third.
The Tigers must be hiding, only kittens can be heard.
Game 4. Let's go do it. Let's finish it today.
Don't let them bring back Verlander. Don't give anything away.
We're leading after one. We know we'll soon be cruising
When Cabrera sticks one in the seats and what’d you say "We're losing?”
We’ll take care of that. Go grab a bat. Things will soon be rosy.
A two run jack! That’s right, we’re back! Thank you, Buster Posey.
Then Scutaro, the guy you want when the chips are down
Knocks in his teammate Theriot to give us back our crown.
So I’ll see you daytime Halloween on Market Street I’ll cheer:
“Let’s go, Giants! You’re the champs! I’ll see you here next year!”

