Artist's rendering of banners to be displayed along the Embarcadero near AT&T™© Park. Memo to the San Francisco Giants' ma...

The Giants are dead. Long live the Giants. Yeah, I don't know what that means either. Maybe an Elizabethan form of "Wait 't...

… made bleak midwinter by this four-day break from baseball. Fie! you say. 'Tis the great American game's greatest night: The Al...

Don't say I didn't warn me: I know I said I didn't care if the Giants didn't win the World Series again, because they...

The wrathful calls stacked up immediately, their toxins crackling nonstop (save for commercial breaks) over the air. Frenetic frothy v...

OK, I peeked. In a moment of weakness and a paucity of interesting TV, I checked in on the Major Leauge All Star game Tuesday — the one ...

In this long dark tea-time of the soul* — which you might know as the Major League All Star break — I must take a reality check. With mu...

Time was — when our first was born — that people could predict my moods by the outcome of each San Francisco Giants game. Wins made me...

  Mood level: Pinkish red, chasing away the pale. Not too happy having to rewrite posts in the wake of whate...