Goodbye Boston. It was a little sad to say goodbye to the hometown of two of my favourite sports writers, Mike Shalin and Bill Simmons, who duke it out for top dog in a city that definitely knows it's baseball and also likes to steal the Vancouver Canucks talent out from under us (First Neely and now Lucic? Do you want Hodgson and Schneider, too?)
It appears as if there are two faces to every city. I mean, if you were to judge San Francisco on the way from the airport to any hotel worth staying at, you would probably call it "the land of the homeless."
But it is San Francisco, and it's a great city. Pier 39 feels like a theme park, and we even had a hat draw to see which loser had to do the bungee jump trampoline with all the kids.
Alex Graham, way to handle it like a champ.
A few of us went over the Golden Gate Bridge, a few of us saw Lombard St. We all drank and played football for a while in a dog park, and I will say that there is nothing quite as exhilarating as getting yelled at by a woman walking her dog.
We made our first Hooters visit of the trip, and there will be plenty more to come.
The Giants game was also insane (in a good way, not in a Howard Hughes way) until the end, which I will detail later. All-in-all, Giants defeated the Arizona Diamondbacks even though closer Brian Wilson deteriorated faster than the "actual" Brian Wilson and almost cost them the game.
We were here for three days, but I must say there was nothing as good as getting that feeling upon the arrival at the airport that first morning and being able to say, "I'm in California."
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