Say it Ain't So
This morning's story in the Chronicle gave every suggestion that Dusty Baker would not return as Giants manager. The week-plus of time that had passed since the Giants' Orange County Fade Away hadn't left the skipper feeling warm and cuddly toward the ol' gang. The only way to phrase Dusty's posture is to say he continued to whine. It's painful to put things so bluntly, because for ten years Dusty was the heart and soul of the Giants, but honestly: It is difficult to think of another prominent professional so frequently and powerfully shaken by ungenerous critiques (and so unable to separate that minority of viewpoints from the mammoth tide of praise that regularly washes over him). So on one hand, the news tonight that Dusty is officially history here brings a shrug and a "whatever." On the other hand: that's the pain speaking, lashing back, shielding the hurt. Yep, it hurts to see Dusty leave. He is thin-skinned, to be sure. His big-game calls were sometimes suspect. But when we shovel away all the talk-radio BS we find a man of tremendous character and charisma, a man with a peculiar ability to keep and maintain respect and order in a time when shoddy behavior and chaos rule sports. We see one exceptionally cool mo-fo. Damn. No Dusty. I had convinced myself that after the shared agony of Game 6, Dusty couldn't abandoned us. But apparently he did not believe the agony was shared. 'Tis a pity. Good luck, Bake—and keep a close eye on Darren, OK?
Wednesday, November 06, 2002
Storm Clouds Gathering
If you live anywhere but the arid southwest (which, in my book, extends as far north as the Mendocino-Sonoma county line), this entry will strike you as puzzling. I mean, what the hell, it's going to rain, big deal. But it is a big deal! We haven't had rain since mid-May. I have the vague recollection of a few episodes of heavy fog that could possibly have earned the title "drizzle." But measurable precipitation? Uhn-uh and pshaw. No picnics scrapped, no ballgames washed out, no bike rides cancelled; doesn't happen here in the May through October period. 'Splains, partly, why thirty-whatever million people live in California….
So I'm all tingly after reading the forecast discussion, which as of this evening states: "MOST RAINFALL OVER THE NEXT 60 HOURS WILL BE GENERATED BY STRONG WARM ADVECTION AND ASSOCIATED VERTICAL ASCENT...BUT COASTAL RANGES WILL SEE RAINFALL ENHANCED BY GOOD OROGRAPHICS...WITH THE MODELS SHOWING PERIODIC EPISODES OF 40-50 KT SWLY WINDS FROM 925-850 MB THROUGH FRIDAY EVENING. THE LATEST QPF GUIDANCE SHOWS RAINFALL TOTALS FROM LATE TONIGHT THROUGH FRIDAY NIGHT IN THE 1-3 INCH RANGE FOR MOST LOWER ELEVATIONS WITH 3-5 INCHES ACCUMULATING IN THE COASTAL RANGES...WITH EVEN LOCALLY HEAVIER AMOUNTS IN THE COASTAL RANGES OF THE NORTH BAY AND IN THE SANTA LUCIAS IN MONTEREY COUNTY. SINCE THIS IS THE FIRST RAIN EVENT OF THE SEASON...RIVER AND STREAM FLOODING IS UNLIKELY...BUT URBAN FLOODING IS A DISTINCT POSSIBILITY."
The thing we don't know about this storm is if it'll kick off an extended period of sogginess, or if it will dump and run, followed by weeks of cool, glorious, late-fall-tinted sunshine, the kind that leaves me wanly peering out the office window about 2 p.m. each day, longing to have my softening ass on my bike saddle rather than in the chair it calls home Monday through Friday. Three years ago December was bone dry, not a drop, low 60s and sunny every day. Last year, we got 15 inches of rain in December, spread out over two dozen days such that folks began to get edgy and gripey (except when they were talking to their Seattle and Portland friends, colleagues and relations). You just don't know.
Just to be sure, after work today we picked up all the summer toys and tossed 'em in the shed or the winery (yeah, yeah: garage), and Rebecca and Niko finished their long job of shoveling ten yards of recently delivered topsoil off the driveway and into place around the yard. Seed of a native grass was scattered. As evening fell we found ourselves sitting in the backyard, partially illuminated by a lone light, the big oak brooding overhead, a thick carpet of soft leaves from the eastern oak still reflecting a warm glow. The air was mild and so still you didn't want to breathe for fear of disturbing the holy equilibrium. We talked about some dreams and Niko babbled brilliantly, as he is wont to do, and looked customarily cuter than any living thing in the world in his red Osh Kosh b'Gosh overalls, and we got ready for the new season that was, beyond the hills and beyond our view, pushing toward us.
If you live anywhere but the arid southwest (which, in my book, extends as far north as the Mendocino-Sonoma county line), this entry will strike you as puzzling. I mean, what the hell, it's going to rain, big deal. But it is a big deal! We haven't had rain since mid-May. I have the vague recollection of a few episodes of heavy fog that could possibly have earned the title "drizzle." But measurable precipitation? Uhn-uh and pshaw. No picnics scrapped, no ballgames washed out, no bike rides cancelled; doesn't happen here in the May through October period. 'Splains, partly, why thirty-whatever million people live in California….
So I'm all tingly after reading the forecast discussion, which as of this evening states: "MOST RAINFALL OVER THE NEXT 60 HOURS WILL BE GENERATED BY STRONG WARM ADVECTION AND ASSOCIATED VERTICAL ASCENT...BUT COASTAL RANGES WILL SEE RAINFALL ENHANCED BY GOOD OROGRAPHICS...WITH THE MODELS SHOWING PERIODIC EPISODES OF 40-50 KT SWLY WINDS FROM 925-850 MB THROUGH FRIDAY EVENING. THE LATEST QPF GUIDANCE SHOWS RAINFALL TOTALS FROM LATE TONIGHT THROUGH FRIDAY NIGHT IN THE 1-3 INCH RANGE FOR MOST LOWER ELEVATIONS WITH 3-5 INCHES ACCUMULATING IN THE COASTAL RANGES...WITH EVEN LOCALLY HEAVIER AMOUNTS IN THE COASTAL RANGES OF THE NORTH BAY AND IN THE SANTA LUCIAS IN MONTEREY COUNTY. SINCE THIS IS THE FIRST RAIN EVENT OF THE SEASON...RIVER AND STREAM FLOODING IS UNLIKELY...BUT URBAN FLOODING IS A DISTINCT POSSIBILITY."
The thing we don't know about this storm is if it'll kick off an extended period of sogginess, or if it will dump and run, followed by weeks of cool, glorious, late-fall-tinted sunshine, the kind that leaves me wanly peering out the office window about 2 p.m. each day, longing to have my softening ass on my bike saddle rather than in the chair it calls home Monday through Friday. Three years ago December was bone dry, not a drop, low 60s and sunny every day. Last year, we got 15 inches of rain in December, spread out over two dozen days such that folks began to get edgy and gripey (except when they were talking to their Seattle and Portland friends, colleagues and relations). You just don't know.
Just to be sure, after work today we picked up all the summer toys and tossed 'em in the shed or the winery (yeah, yeah: garage), and Rebecca and Niko finished their long job of shoveling ten yards of recently delivered topsoil off the driveway and into place around the yard. Seed of a native grass was scattered. As evening fell we found ourselves sitting in the backyard, partially illuminated by a lone light, the big oak brooding overhead, a thick carpet of soft leaves from the eastern oak still reflecting a warm glow. The air was mild and so still you didn't want to breathe for fear of disturbing the holy equilibrium. We talked about some dreams and Niko babbled brilliantly, as he is wont to do, and looked customarily cuter than any living thing in the world in his red Osh Kosh b'Gosh overalls, and we got ready for the new season that was, beyond the hills and beyond our view, pushing toward us.
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