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February 13, 2011

The San Francisco Giants are your 2010 reigning World Series Champions!

Sorry, we really just can’t get enough of saying that.

In any event, thanks for stumbling upon our humble corner of the blogosphere! We’re just two long-time Giants fans who have finally gotten their act together and moved from the micro-thought jungle that is Twitter and into the high-brow land of blogging. Well, more accurately, we both just have far too much to say about our Giants to keep trying to fit it into 140 characters at a shot.

Like our intrepid boys in orange and black, we’re full of contradictions and are equally likely to be found laughing over silly GIFs or debating the merits of using tERA instead of FIP to calculate pitcher WAR. We think defensive baseball is horribly under rated, but we have a crush on Brandon Belt’s plate discipline and slash line. We’ve never met a Giant we didn’t like and have a terrible soft spot for prospects, which we know will probably only break our hearts. In short, we know and love the torture and have for several decades between us.


Britt, an East Bay native, works full time in the technology industry helping bridge the gap between nerdspeak and the average human being, both despite and because of a very expensive performing arts degree from one of those well-regarded liberal arts colleges in a quaint town in New England. She recalls the windchill at the Stick with a fondness it certainly doesn’t deserve and vividly remembers watching from her Potrero Hill apartment as AT&T Park (which she still has to remember isn’t called PacBell any more) rose seemingly from nothing and as China Basin became McCovey Cove. While old enough to start developing just a few neuroses about her age, she’s also young enough to be able to simultaneously blame Will Clark for her eventual descent into Giants madness and to wish she had really been able to see him play in a way that she could appreciate. A high school love affair with J.T. Snow sealed the deal on the madness that has become her life as a baseball fan, and now her non-work wardrobe is a sea of orange and black (despite orange looking somewhat dreadful on a redhead) and her coworkers have learned to just pretend baseball doesn’t exist unless they’ve got awhile to let her talk.

She is recently returned from a period of exile in the South, out of remotely reasonable reach of any major league team, but still mired in the land of East Coast Bias ™. If anything, this has made her that much more vocal and fiercely loyal. She could be happier to be home and sees a lot of garlic fries in her future.  She has an illicit love affair with the Detroit Tigers’ pitching staff, especially Max Scherzer but shh, nobody tell Matt Cain. She drinks too much coffee, but still longs for a mocha from Farley’s on 18th St. and drinks too much beer, but still longs for a Liberty Ale from Anchor Brewing. She also needs to stop writing in the third person and go to bed.


Maiya here. Just your typical college student. The Giants have been my team, and baseball my sport, forever really. Outside with the radio, “helping” my dad in his garden, listening to Barry Bonds at-bats, my dad rambling on about Juan Marichal’s wind-up…it was all part of growing up. I fell in love with J.T. Snow first for his name as a little kid and second for his defense when I actually realized how good it was. I adored Robb Nen and hoped for an irrational length of time that he would come back. And I begged repeatedly for stories of Matt Williams, because I was a year or two too young to truly remember him, but was constantly hearing talk of him because he was the home town hero.

Anyways, I’ve spent the last few years in Seattle, and when the Giants made the playoffs, I proceeded to drive everyone within a 50 mile radius crazy with my excited shouting, random grins, and endless baseball chatter. In an effort to not make enemies out of the friendly neighborhood Mariners fans, I started poking around the internet. What I found was rather remarkable: a whole network of Giants fans, spread out across the globe. I lurked for a while, and lurked, and lurked, and lurked. Finally, about a week into the off-season, when randomly texting friends Matt Cain’s post-season ERA (0.00, by the way) began to get old (at least for them), I showed my face. I started posting on McCovey Chronicles, made a Twitter, got into arguments over stats…the usual. And well, here I am. The only regret I have is not joining the scene sooner. So, welcome. If I’ve met you: good to see you here. If I haven’t: come say hello.

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