I picked up my copy of the New University last week and as I read through the opinions, I saw something troubling. ‘What was it you saw, what was it you found out?’ you ask. I found out that San Francisco Giants fans not only still exist without the walking chemistry project, Barry Bonds, in their lineup, but that they know how to write.
Cheap shots aside, I was mortified that the fans whom Mr. Sondheim encountered at the beautiful Chavez Ravine, the historical Dodger Stadium, treated him the way that they did. Admittedly, I hadn’t been into baseball for a little bit, but inside me, a newfound love for the game emerged when I went to Dodger Stadium at the beginning of last season. It was then that I fell in love with the Dodgers organization, and by association, hated the San Francisco Giants.
But my hatred of the Giants didn’t come from a love of the Dodgers