Another odd year

The end of the 2015 season is an emotional one.

Tim Hudson and Jeremy Affeldt retired and were given the most heartfell farewells when Giants just fell short of playoff. I wasn’t there, the last game on a sunny Sunday afternoon, and Bumgarner was scratched from starting it. In the end, does it surprise anyone that Giants didn’t make the playoff? I mean, this is just another odd year. But when I read an email from Baer to the season ticket holders, I almost burst into tears. Yes, we have fought well, and came into this off-season with pride.

I will remember 2015 as the year Bumgarner established himself as one of the elite pitchers and the absolute ace of Giants under the pressure of coming out of a historical postseason, also hitting five home runs and being one hit away from a perfect game. Posey continued to build up his future hall-of-fame resume with all-star numbers and stayed the indisputable best pitcher of the game. Bum and Buster have always been my two favorite Giants ever since I started to follow Giants in 2010 and they keep growing just makes me the happiest fan of the world. Besides the battery, Giants’ home-grown infield has quietly become one of the best, if not the best in baseball. I have seen #FreeBelt back in 2012, Crawford getting better each year with his gloves and hairstyles, Joe Panik and Matt Duffy coming from nowhere and instantly giving their best, and I am so proud of them. And of course, there are also Hester’s no-hitter, Parker’s three-homer game on the magical day when Hudson and Zito reunioned in the Colosseum, and many other wonderful moments in this year. So here it is, the highlight of the Giants 2015.

Man, I love this game, this city and this fucking Giants team. And you know what, next year, it’s an even year. Go Giants!

No Shit !

On my Muni home, I had a very interesting read on McCovey Chronicles about Madison Bumgarner. But then there is a comment talking about Buster Posey, since the article is about franchise players.

“The problem is that unless you’re a Giants fan, Buster Posey is about as interesting as white bread. And he’s the face of the franchise. If you watch the Giants a lot, you’ll see that he does actually have a sense of humor, but to most people, he comes across as wooden and visibly uncomfortable with media attention and he always, always sticks to the script. He’s attractive but in the “special limited edition model from the Square Jawed White Guy Factory” way; his features are so regular that nothing really stands out (unless you’re looking at him from the back). And unlike certain other franchise players on other CA baseball teams, he doesn’t go in for showy bat flips and celebrations when he flies out to right—he puts his head down and run the bases. He so rarely displays any emotion on the field that when he does, it’s noteworthy (clinching a WS, perfect games and no-hitters, and “No shit!”). After that beautiful, beautiful moment in Game 5 of the 2012 NLDS, the broadcasters joked that he actually stood there and watched it go out—for all of a second. He’s boring, especially compared to a lot of other players in the game—including on his own team.”

This comment is pretty spot-on and amusing. Wait, I know his trademark #BusterHug in WS, perfect game and no-hitter, but what is this “no shit!” thing? So I googled a little bit, and found this gif from a lovely tumblr.

test

no shit ! no shit ! no shit !

 
Shit! This is really hot. I can watch this gif for a whole day and hear those beautiful words constantly echoing in my head.

7 Things I Learned from My First Bay to Breaker

Just went to my first Bay to Breaker and it was a BLAST! So glad I made it, especially after almost giving up the day before. Here are the 7 things I learned from this very first Bay to Breaker experience.

1. It’s OK to crash it. While the event officials said that unregistered runners will be kicked off the course, there are several reasons they won’t or even can’t enforce this policy. First, The sidewalks are open to public, so you could well pretend that you happen to be in the mood of walking from Embarcadero to Ocean beach on a beautiful Sunday morning in weird costume. Second, number tags are hard to see under fancy costumes anyway, no cop will ever bother stopping a man only to realize his tag is inside the funny looking banana skin. 3. Everyone crashes it. Yeah, that’s sadly true, but crashing Bay to Breaker is not recommended here; If you can afford it, pay the registration fee to support organizing such a wonderful event.

2. Wear costume or stay at home. I didn’t wear costume this year, and felt so embarrassed and shameful. Wearing plain blue hoodie and black running shorts, I looked like an idiot walking among wild animals, superheros, Tetris and dressed-up good-looking European sailors. The flashy green accent on my shoes and shorts may make me not as dumb as people who came in their super-casual grocery shopping attires, but still, this will be the last time I come to Bay to Breaker without a proper costume.

3. Walk, not run. My friend who wished to spectate the event drove in from south bay around 9 a.m. and thought she would miss the better part of the race. It turned out that she not only joined a great portion of it, but also received a finisher’s medal, only that the race is not a real “race” — it’s just a long stroll. There are way too many things at Bay to Breaker to just run by: hot chicks in bikinis, old flabby naked man, cops that hard to tell whether in uniforms or costumes, music stations on Hayes, people watchers on the roofs, drunkies in the Panhandle, bisons in the Golden Gate Park, whirling wind on the Ocean Beach. Bay to Breaker is a kaleidoscope of color, joy, exuberance that makes San Francisco San Francisco, so walk it and walk slowly. (However, to get a finisher’s medal, you do need to finish this year’s 12K before 12:30 p.m.)

Too many things to see at Bay to Breaker that I lost focus.

 
4. The more, the merrier. Bay to Breaker is a party for social animals, not for loners. Your happiness and excitement grow exponentially in the number of buddies coming with you. If Batman comes alone, well, that’s sort of cool, but Batman vs. Spiderman is way cooler. How about them with all the avengers? Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Hulk…WOW!

5. No alcohol, no asshole. The first half means there is no tolerance for drinking along the entire course, which is pretty easy to understand. This year curb-side drinking is reduced though not completely eliminated by several new practices including the closure of Alamo Square, which makes the event both less exciting and much safer. The second half is fairly literal too. I do admire minimalism, but “nothing” is definitely not the best thing to wear at Bay to Breaker. Well, this doesn’t apply to hot sixpack guys.

6. 12K is longer than you think.I usually run 5 miles a time during my half marathon training without feeling too exhausted at the end, but yesterday I spent more than three hours on this 12K course and it felt like even longer. In fact, San Francisco is a city with an area of 7 miles by 7 miles, so walking across it sounds pretty easy. Yet anyone who thinks so forgets that San Francisco is dense, hilly, beautiful and Bay to Breaker is not just a 12K race. It’s a culture experience, a city party, a chance to be immersed in the liveliness of this city, a process to create and nourish the course, rather than merely running it.

7. San Francisco is an amazing city. I’ve walked in many streets in different neighborhoods of San Francisco. California Street is my favorite hilly route, with its wide, straight, steep road pointing to the sky and cable cars cutting through from the peak; yet Hayes Street completely grabbed my heart yesterday. In the most iconic Bay to Breaker viewpoint, the gentle slope in Hayes valley is guarded by two rows of magnificent Victorian houses, the two lane street between them filled with clamor and crowd all the way from the bottom of the hill to the top. It’s a scene that everyone sees wants to be a part of, however small that part is. It made me proud, it made me alive.

stronger

[忽然在文件夹里找到这么一篇去年写的文章。。。]

最近租车一直把广播放在口水歌频道,于是听到了这首stronger,其实也就记得反复听到那一句,What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

我第一次听到这句话的时候,想起本打算五月二十五号亲临迈阿密,在巨人的dugout上为Posey举一块牌子,牌子上要写的话我早已想好:It only makes us stronger,颇有异曲同工之妙。
Posey是去年五月二十五号受伤的,我在现场,AT&T park。当时还叫佛罗里达马林鱼队的小替补Cousins决绝地撞向甚至已经让出本垒的Posey。我眼睁睁地看到Posey被抬出了场。踝关节骨折让2010国联最佳新人的2011赛季打了不到一半就彻底报销。
十个月后,Posey康复归来,依然出现在捕手的位置上,依然保持着.300的打率,甚至还领跑巨人本垒打和RBI。今天,他成为了2012全明星赛国联首发捕手。

后来我又想到Zito。黑Zito的球迷到底有多少,大概有半个湾区那么多。不,这一点也不夸张,如果你的球队的一亿两千万先生自从加盟以后就状态一落千丈,甚至先发也打不上,季后赛被抛弃,眼巴巴地在家看着电视里队友拿下一座城市等待了58年的世界冠军,你多半也会黑他的。
但是还是这个Zito,我每次去客场看球都看到他兢兢业业地参加BP,做好每一个动作,然后耐心地给球迷一个一个签名。仿佛不管有多少Zito黑,只要有一个人还支持他,他就会为那一个人做到做好。(话说,Lincecum从来就没有出现在dugout周围)。
也还是这个Zito,在今年赛季初巨人三巨头接连惨败的关头,挺身而出,投出了一场CGSO,为巨人取得了艰难的第一胜。赛后Huff是这么说的:“It’s no secret he gets buried by fans and the media, everything like that, so … for all the haters out there, that’s for them. I’ve never wanted to scoop a ball to end a game more in my life.”

然后有了今天的托雷斯。
四年前欧洲杯决赛打进制胜一球的是他,披着红军战袍叱咤风云的是他,两年前世界杯星光暗淡颗粒无收的也是他,转战斯坦福桥连续24场不进球饱受质疑的也是他。
我绝对不是托雷斯的死忠粉,顶多就是饭板鸭的同时顺便饭一下。然而某日看到他长途奔袭攻破巴塞罗那大门的那一瞬间,我忍不住在办公室狠狠地捏了一拳。耳边仿佛听到一首老歌,它这样唱到:冷漠的人,谢谢你们曾经看轻我。
接下来的事情就顺理成章了,欧洲杯决赛托雷斯一传一射,不仅成为唯一一个连续两届欧洲杯决赛进球的球员,还以助攻多的优势把欧洲杯金靴带回了家。质疑声有多大,抽丫的耳光就有多响亮。

All those days and nights, tears and pains, prejudices and despises, they only make us stronger. We are here, waiting for the worst, and the best that yet to come.

Yes, we can

 

李娜终于夺冠了,像我一直相信和期待的那样。在我和万总持续地讨论过程中,万总一直很坚定地挺娜姐,把她列为头号夺冠热门,我则是畏畏缩缩地回应着。我总怕我一说出来,梦想就不会成真。

在经历了这些年的风风雨雨,经历了去年澳网半决赛双抢七的功亏一篑,法网“爆冷”输给尚未登顶的斯齐,温网无大作为美网甚至一轮游之后,我对娜姐那条曾经脆弱过,慢慢变坚强的神经依然不敢掉以轻心。我总觉得她就是那样的武汉女人,大大咧咧,轰轰烈烈,赢要赢个痛快,输也输的干脆。何况这是土场,娜姐最不擅长的场地,再漂亮的罐子摔成啥样似乎都不会太可惜。

在娜姐输给科维托娃第一盘的时候,我几乎要放弃了,在她扳回一盘却0-3落后于第三盘的时候,我又一次几乎要放弃了。但是我没有,我一点都没有,因为我想到了今年澳网半决赛。娜姐被沃兹拿到赛点的那刻,我真的放弃了,我甚至把耳机拿了下来,准备等待比赛结束。然而娜姐顶了下来,娜姐顽强地扳了回来,顺便把水货第一的漂亮宝贝打回了原型。从那一刻起,我知道,我完全可以相信这个李娜,这个风风火火的女人,学会了如何克制,如何控制,如何稳定,如何坚定。

我甚至没有看四分一决赛对阿扎,半决赛对莎娃,就想万总说的,在过了科维托娃这关之后,娜姐已然是夺冠大热门了。阿扎抑或莎娃,无非都是大嗓门的稳定版科娃,发球和力量甚至还不如科娃。尽管我做了许许多多荒诞纠结的噩梦,但是我真正醒来打开笔记本搜索french open的时候,胜利者总是同一个人,李娜。

决赛依然没有太多意外,虽然守在电视机前的我紧张地不断地出汗,变化翘腿的姿势,把外套的袖子捋得越来越上,但是我始终相信娜姐。我甚至在她打出好球的时候,向电视机里的她微微点点头。我知道她看不到,但我知道,张山,莫滕森也在做着同样的事情。李娜所需要的只是最后那一点点鼓励,最后那一点点坚定的信任。

当李娜双腿一软躺在罗兰加洛斯中心球场上的时候,我出奇地平静。平静地一点也不像一秒钟前亲眼目睹中国诞生了第一位大满贯单打冠军。因为我知道她做得到,她甚至早该做到了。
现在的李娜,双反利落精准如教科书般华丽,正手不断进步火力越来越强大,跑动灵活,拼抢积极,防守顽强,耐心等待机会然后伺机主动进攻,率先撕开对手防线,打出漂亮的主动得分,我想不出来还有什么原因不相信李娜会拿下她的第一个大满贯。除非,除非她自己都不相信。

她也许真的迟疑过,在澳网惜败变化多段的克妈之时,在随后的五连败之时,她也许真的一边又一遍地问过自己,大满贯,我可以吗。直到有一个人给了她答案,她的新教练,迈克.莫滕森。李娜说,“莫滕森第一次见到我时,就说我能拿大满贯冠军。他一直给我信心,让我相信自己。你知道,当一个人在你耳边不停重复说时,当你一直听着这些话时,你从内心深处真的会渐渐生出底气。”

我想摘抄一段昨晚看了一整晚关于李娜法网夺冠的文章中最喜欢的一段,来自tennis杂志的执行主编Steve Tignor。
“Even better, though, was to remember all the times Li had hit all those perfect backhands in Indian Wells and Montreal and Key Biscayne, in Paris and at Wimbledon and on the back courts at Flushing Meadows, all those times I wondered why she wasn’t better. So many players never live up to that potential. Something gets in their way, usually exactly what had gotten in Li’s way—nerves, errors, outside problems, the immense difficulty in making yourself believe that you—yeah, you—can be a Grand Slam champion.”

自从李娜今年的澳网决赛,我一直记得一个人说的一句话。那是李娜惜败克妈之后,ESPN的一位评论员问另一位评论员,Darren Cahill — 阿加西,休伊特,穆雷的教练:你觉得李娜还能回到大满贯决赛吗?Darren说,老实说,我觉得不可能。我对于这句话一直耿耿于怀,虽然我不确定这是美国人天生无畏的直率和坦白,还是对来自网球边缘国家的李娜傲慢的歧视。
当时我不知道怎么向他还击,而现在,事实替我证明了一切。
我一吐胸口的那股闷气,想对李娜说:相信自己,做最好的自己,让那些看低你的人都他妈的见鬼去吧。

最后这句话,也与你我共勉。

原来一直爱着你


我一直、一直等待着这一天。
然而不是今天。不,我从未期待过今天。纵使在那沉静、顿默、怀疑、继而狂喜迸发的瞬间我已热泪盈眶。

两周前的周六,我和以前的室友一起吃饭,然后买菜,晚饭随便应付做了,与这些年来每一个无聊的周末并无两样。
然而在这一天,我写了整整十年的日记。我把他们从箱底翻出来,已有七八本。这些断断续续积累起来的琐忆,恐怕是超过千页了。在第一页的第一行,用我彼时尚显稚嫩的钢笔字,写着,“二零零零年六月二十六号,星期一”。那是拉乌生日的前一天,我在电视机前目睹他踢飞了最后时刻的点球,西班牙被法国淘汰出欧洲杯。长夜难眠,欲哭无泪。我不知悲伤应与谁述说,便写起了日记。
十年之后的今日,我有幸见证西班牙勇夺大力神杯,却依然不知将心中无限情怀交予何人,唯有再一次写下些混乱的文字,只当做留给自己的纪念。

我果真是个伪球迷。本来就不踢球,又自零三年备战高考,彻底告别体坛周报,足球杂志,便再也没有关心足坛动态。以至于在世界杯之前,小白葫芦娃圣婴这样的名字,于我是再陌生不过了。回顾我在球迷史上最辉煌的一刻,已要回溯要上个世纪末惊心动魄的诺坎普三分钟。凌晨守在电视机前的我无法高呼,只能紧紧握拳,那样沉默的狂喜,真是幸福而滑稽。这一刻时隔三千多个日夜于今日重现,不过在紧张焦虑,度日如年的煎熬之后,我终得以喊出心中的激动,喜极而泣。鼻酸的一瞬间,几近感彻人生得意不过如此。

事实上,久年不看球的我,根本就没有准备在这次世界杯迎来如此盛大恢弘的结局。开赛之初无心观战,亦无明显偏好,只是每日查阅战果,如同八卦般随便看看。不过在众豪门出师不利之时,唯有西班牙让我狠狠揪了一颗心。第二轮小组赛之前的某日,竟也曾苦算积分如何才能出线,算到底还是听天由命,倒也没有放在心上。直到那日在去圣巴拉的车上,接到电话战报让我猜西班牙与巴拉圭的比分,倏地发觉原来自己如此衷心的希望西班牙赢,已然无法接受其他的结局。

至于最终天遂人愿,本不是常发生在我身上的事情。你们如何说我都好,我自知是爱西班牙的,全然不因这结局。否则不会零二年在医院口腔科尽头的小电视前悲痛万分,出离愤怒,也不会在零八欧洲杯后心如止水,宠辱不惊。这样的感觉,就像十年后再一次遇到旧时情人,蓦然发现你还是爱他的。他或依然风情万种,或早已饱经沧桑,你毫不在意,你只知道,你还是爱他的。

只可惜昔日的偶像拉乌终未能赶上黄金的年代,不禁让我感叹造化弄人。每每看到他日渐老态,退出国家队,又要离皇马而去,总是感到沉痛的惋惜。然而他的队长袖标交给了圣卡西,7号的衣钵交给了即将改写他国家队的进球纪录的比利亚,我应该可以感到欣慰了。买了件新七号的球衣,我告诉自己,我已可以向拉乌就此谢别了。十年前他让我心属西班牙,我才能在十年之后迎来无比美妙的时刻。十年前他留给我一个无从慰藉的悲伤夜晚,我才能在十年后记载下这么真实的成长。

近些年来,每一次翻阅日记,都会从逝去的人生中得到新的感悟。仿佛人生重新来过一遍,自己又是崭新的了。
年少的时候是无法体会这些深刻的情感的。若是喜欢,便贪婪,沉溺,朝思暮想,指望天荒地老。若是悲伤,便自虐,绝望,寝食难安,彻夜以泪洗面。到头来,通通是一场云烟。爱恨并蒂交错,理欲纠缠不清,越是计较,越不可自拔。只有放低一切,才能体会人生。若真如张悬歌中所唱,我得到的都是侥幸,我失去的都是人生,那么一切都可解释,一切都应放下。
即使是现在,很多时候仍感到不够了解自己,喜欢什么,想要什么。然而我终于不再无措和恐惧,我知道时间会给我答案。也许是明天,明年,或者十年,更久。就像一次又一次出现在我梦中的人,原来对你们的思念从未停止过。就像那一刻我振臂高呼,血脉喷张,全身发麻久久不能平复,才知道是这样的爱着西班牙。

十年啊,只是一滴泪风干的时间。大悲与大喜,巅峰与谷底,都如瞬间般渺小而短暂。只有回头再想起你的时候,只有再一次见到你的时候,才明白,这一切的潮起潮落,颠沛流离,不过是为了让自己真正地了解自己。
所以我长久以来所等待的,不是从来就不属于我的你的一切,荣耀抑或耻辱,幸福抑或悲伤。我只是等待着重逢昨日的自己,在事过境迁,洗净铅华之后,笑年少轻狂,看风轻云淡。然后喃喃自语一声,原来一直爱着你。