Randy Johnson makes the Bay Area smile
As the man himself said, “It’s nice to have this moment.’’ More than nice, it was exciting. It was uplifting. For Randy Johnson. For his family. For baseball. No less significantly, for the Bay Area.
Maybe this hasn’t been a complete sporting wasteland. The Sharks had the best record in hockey before they collapsed as normal in the playoffs. Cal football had a winning record. But mostly, we’ve been through tough times.
The Giants, the A’s, the 49ers, the Raiders and the Warriors all have had a losing season, the 49ers and Raiders multiple losing seasons. We needed something to make us smile, to make us cheer. To make us remember the enjoyment inherent in sports.
On Thursday, we remembered.
On Thursday, Randy Johnson won his 300th game. He did it in a San Francisco Giants uniform. A carpetbagger, in a way. A “rent-a-player.’’
A newcomer who is an old-timer. But who also grew up in the region, Livermore, and has deep ties even if for the previous 20 of his 21 years he played in Montreal, Seattle, Houston, Arizona and New York.
The last memorable occasion was Barry Bonds’ 756th home run. Steroids didn’t matter. His personality didn’t matter. Barry drove one to centerfield and the strobe lights flashed and the crowd screamed. The ordinary had become the extraordinary.
Now, finally, another thrill. We’d been spoiled through the years, the Catch, Baron Davis’ dunk against Dallas, the Raiders’ Sea of Hands, Canseco’s blast into the upper desk in Toronto.
Do you recall Dave Stewart out-staring and out-pitching Roger Clemens? The instant the Giants captured the pennant in 2002? Now we can recall 45-year-old Randy Johnson, laconic, iconic, bringing one home for Northern California.
“It was a long road,’’ Johnson said on the Comcast postgame show. “If there is one word to sum it up, I persevered.’’
Not just on a rainy afternoon in Washington, when the 6-foot-9 Johnson made history by becoming the 24th pitcher and sixth lefthander to reach 300 victories. But through a career in which, because of his size, he had to perfect mechanics and later had to come back from injuries.
Baseball, it’s been said, is less a team sport than a series of concerts by the artists. Still, when a baseball player helps himself, with a well-pitched game, with three hits in four at bats, he is helping his team. All of Johnson’s wins meant 300 victories for the clubs on which he played, number 300 coming for the benefit of the Giants.
“I’m exhausted,’’ conceded Johnson, who came out with a 2-1 lead after six, watched the defense make some spectacular plays to retain the advantage and then sat in the dugout when the often hitless Giants picked up three runs in the top of the ninth.
“I had a senior moment when I thought I was 25,’’ said Johnson. “Just think about it. I’m coming on 600 games.’’
Johnson’s son, Tanner, in a Giants uniform, was with his father. “I think the coolest moment has to be able to share it with a son,’’ Randy said.
“I wish my dad was here,’’ he added, referring to his late father. “But I haven’t been able to think about that for the last 17 years. I hope he was watching from up above.’’
The rest of us were watching from down here. And from everywhere. At Nationals Stadium, everyone seemed to be a Johnson fan, even those in red Washington caps. Baseball fans appreciate records, whether set by their team or the opposition.
Maybe Randy deserved a better stage, a larger crowd, but scripts are not to be prepared in sport. Everything is extemporaneous. You never know what might happen. Or what might not happen. Any hope that number 300 would be recorded at home, at AT&T, was incidental. You take what you can get.
Johnson went out and took this one, pitched beautifully. Which is what is needed for the Giants, a team that is last in hitting.
“I came here,’’ Johnson said of joining San Francisco, “to help this team turn things around.
“The one thing a pitcher has control over, essentially, is strikeouts. He has no control over wins that he gets. But wins always outweigh the strikeouts. I wanted to be known for winning games rather than for strikeouts.’’
He’s known for both. And in the Bay Area he’ll be known for an afternoon when we remembered the excitement of a magic moment. Welcome to the club, Randy.
Maybe this hasn’t been a complete sporting wasteland. The Sharks had the best record in hockey before they collapsed as normal in the playoffs. Cal football had a winning record. But mostly, we’ve been through tough times.
The Giants, the A’s, the 49ers, the Raiders and the Warriors all have had a losing season, the 49ers and Raiders multiple losing seasons. We needed something to make us smile, to make us cheer. To make us remember the enjoyment inherent in sports.
On Thursday, we remembered.
On Thursday, Randy Johnson won his 300th game. He did it in a San Francisco Giants uniform. A carpetbagger, in a way. A “rent-a-player.’’
A newcomer who is an old-timer. But who also grew up in the region, Livermore, and has deep ties even if for the previous 20 of his 21 years he played in Montreal, Seattle, Houston, Arizona and New York.
The last memorable occasion was Barry Bonds’ 756th home run. Steroids didn’t matter. His personality didn’t matter. Barry drove one to centerfield and the strobe lights flashed and the crowd screamed. The ordinary had become the extraordinary.
Now, finally, another thrill. We’d been spoiled through the years, the Catch, Baron Davis’ dunk against Dallas, the Raiders’ Sea of Hands, Canseco’s blast into the upper desk in Toronto.
Do you recall Dave Stewart out-staring and out-pitching Roger Clemens? The instant the Giants captured the pennant in 2002? Now we can recall 45-year-old Randy Johnson, laconic, iconic, bringing one home for Northern California.
“It was a long road,’’ Johnson said on the Comcast postgame show. “If there is one word to sum it up, I persevered.’’
Not just on a rainy afternoon in Washington, when the 6-foot-9 Johnson made history by becoming the 24th pitcher and sixth lefthander to reach 300 victories. But through a career in which, because of his size, he had to perfect mechanics and later had to come back from injuries.
Baseball, it’s been said, is less a team sport than a series of concerts by the artists. Still, when a baseball player helps himself, with a well-pitched game, with three hits in four at bats, he is helping his team. All of Johnson’s wins meant 300 victories for the clubs on which he played, number 300 coming for the benefit of the Giants.
“I’m exhausted,’’ conceded Johnson, who came out with a 2-1 lead after six, watched the defense make some spectacular plays to retain the advantage and then sat in the dugout when the often hitless Giants picked up three runs in the top of the ninth.
“I had a senior moment when I thought I was 25,’’ said Johnson. “Just think about it. I’m coming on 600 games.’’
Johnson’s son, Tanner, in a Giants uniform, was with his father. “I think the coolest moment has to be able to share it with a son,’’ Randy said.
“I wish my dad was here,’’ he added, referring to his late father. “But I haven’t been able to think about that for the last 17 years. I hope he was watching from up above.’’
The rest of us were watching from down here. And from everywhere. At Nationals Stadium, everyone seemed to be a Johnson fan, even those in red Washington caps. Baseball fans appreciate records, whether set by their team or the opposition.
Maybe Randy deserved a better stage, a larger crowd, but scripts are not to be prepared in sport. Everything is extemporaneous. You never know what might happen. Or what might not happen. Any hope that number 300 would be recorded at home, at AT&T, was incidental. You take what you can get.
Johnson went out and took this one, pitched beautifully. Which is what is needed for the Giants, a team that is last in hitting.
“I came here,’’ Johnson said of joining San Francisco, “to help this team turn things around.
“The one thing a pitcher has control over, essentially, is strikeouts. He has no control over wins that he gets. But wins always outweigh the strikeouts. I wanted to be known for winning games rather than for strikeouts.’’
He’s known for both. And in the Bay Area he’ll be known for an afternoon when we remembered the excitement of a magic moment. Welcome to the club, Randy.