Finale

I’ll miss the play.

The games.

The non-games.

The maybe games.

The at-bats.

The swings.

The walks.

The chickens.

The splashes.

The catches.

The steals.

The cameras.

The highlights.

The cheers.

The boos.

The power.

The singlesdoublestriples.

The anticipation.

The home runs.

The home run.

The media.

The controversy.

The interviews.

The press conferences.

The attitude.

The identity.

The mark.

The Giant.

Here’s to Barry Bonds’ last night at Mays Field. Here’s to the fifteen years.

[Update] Well, that's it.

Barry’s last at-bat as a San Francisco Giant in Mays Field ends on the warning track, a few feet short of the front-row. For one moment, it felt like what we Giants fans have felt 762 times before. The wait and the accelerated heart rate. The knowledge that whenever Barry stepped into the batter’s box, he would make things interesting, no matter if the Giants were deep into the postseason grind or playing a meaningless game in September. And then the ball dropped into the glove of Brady Clark on the warning track. Just short, just short, just short….

That’s what it feels like. A metaphor. Giants fans have been witnesses to power, greatness, and towering heights for 15 years. As tonight’s game winds down, those 15 years and 2430 games feel too short. Not enough. One more shot.

Thanks for the 15 years’ worth of memories, Barry Bonds. It’s been awesome.

[Update] I don’t believe how genuinely sad I am about this right now. SFGiants.com has taken down their 756 background image. The grounds-crew is probably clearing up the Bonds 25 image on the outfield grass. No more Road to History signs save for the home-run tracker out in right field. No more waking up every gameday and wondering if Barry’s gonna play. No more rubber chickens hanging from the arcade wall. No more jersey No. 25. This hurts.