Sunday, Jul 20, 2008
Sharing the dugout and lots of affection with their sons, the Giants telegraphed good news about fatherhood -- and manhood -- in 2002.
Oct 29, 2002 | It's still too soon after the San Francisco Giants' crushing World Series loss to take comfort in much of anything. But someday soon I'll be able to enjoy the fact that the Series' indelible image of heroism belongs not to the victorious Anaheim Angels but to a player on the losing team: J.T. Snow, the brave Giant in the bright white uniform who swept 3-year-old batboy Darren Baker out of harm's way at home plate in Game 5.
I got sick of watching the endless replays over the weekend, because 1) it seemed part of Fox TV's crusade to make its broadcasts about blondes wearing halos, and rally monkeys, and celebrities in the stands -- anything but baseball -- and 2) some of the coverage on some stations was censorious, with voiceovers harrumphing that there oughta be a law against that sorta thing, and if you know Major League Baseball, there probably will be.
Of course Bud Selig and company know how to draw exactly the wrong conclusion from everything. Thanks to the near accident involving manager Dusty Baker's son, baseball officials announced Monday that they'll start enforcing the two-batboy limit, which the Giants ignore, and they may impose a new age limit. (Note to Selig: If you ban little batboys, can you also ban ThunderStix, which moronic Angels fans used to batter Reggie Sanders when he was chasing down a ball in right field Sunday night? No, Sanders wasn't hurt, but Darren Baker wasn't either, and as long as you're cracking down on possible dangers, why not ban something obnoxious as well as something adorable?)
But whatever baseball officials do next year, they can't take away those great images from this year: Darren Baker safe in Snow's arms, Shawon Dunston and Barry Bonds kissing their sons on the lips after home runs in Game 6, a crying Darren in his father's arms after the devastating Game 7 loss, the two Shawons in a nose-to-nose huddle of grief as the Angels danced on the field. The power of those images has less to tell us about baseball than about fatherhood in 2002, and about manhood, and the news is all good.
Certainly Barry Bonds wasn't kissing his dad Bobby Bonds, a Giants and New York Yankees slugger, after the elder Bonds hit his home runs in the 1960s and '70s. By all accounts Barry was pretty much raised by his mother, Pat, with Bobby, in the role of absentee dad, on the road more than half of every year and distracted even when he was around. Yet somehow Barry -- the media's designated asshole, supposedly focused on nothing but his own game -- grew up to be the sort of father who'll pal around with his son in the clubhouse and celebrate his prodigious home runs by grabbing the little guy's head and kissing him on national television. Sportswriters may not consider him a role model for how to deal with the media, but he's setting a great example as a dad. He shows his 12-year-old son Nikolai genuine tenderness, even though the boy has reached an age when many dads withdraw what little physical affection they gave their sons when they were smaller, as if to teach the lesson that detachment is crucial to masculinity and affection is for sissies.
Barry isn't alone: All these Giant fathers hug and kiss and hold their boys. Benito Santiago's son is almost as tall as he is, but he gets a kiss and a hug when he greets his dad at home plate after a home run, too. All these boys are there in the dugout learning how to be men -- warriors, buddies and loving dads too. J.T. Snow was matter-of-fact when asked how he had the presence of mind to scoop up Darren Baker while he was scoring Thursday night. "I have a four-and-a-half-year-old," he said simply, implying that multitasking comes with the territory -- and it's not just for moms anymore.
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