Wally Hays
Not to out do Matt but I’m a forth generation Giants fan dating back to my great-grandfather in Glen Cove, New York in the early 1900s—heck, there’s a good chance that my great-great-grandfather was a New York Gothams fan when they were first established in 1883. I grew up in San Francisco proper and was routinely withdrawn from school to attend opening day at Candlestick. Legend has it that my sister’s first words were something to the effect of “go f*** yourself, blue!”
I had the dream of becoming the next Kirk Manwaring—seen above with a younger and somewhat petrified version of myself—but I gave up my baseball career to play lacrosse in high school. If I had stuck with baseball I’d probably be a journeyman shortstop in the minor league system, toiling in low class, Single-A systems and maybe getting a few big league at bats before pursuing a career as a manager or bench coach.
If AT&T Park is my Mecca, Finnerty’s is my mosque and I try to answer the near daily call to prayer there at least once or twice a week. I’m a proud owner of the MLB.com radio package which allows me to blast Dave Flemming and Jon Miller over my surround sound system when I’m not at Finn’s.
I believe that Barry Bonds apologists and deniers are all terrible people that are either clueless about baseball, jealous, racist, or a combination of all of the above.
