I was raised a Giants fan, listening to Dad tell stories about Willie Mays and Willie McCovey, Orlando Cepeda and Juan Marichal. The Giants owned Dad's heart—so of course they owned my heart; but we rarely attended their games, opting instead for the easy access of Oakland Coliseum, with its cheap bleacher seats and superior weather, where we'd watch the A's, who have been, for most of my life, the better team.
But now the Giants have moved from windy Candlestick to AT&T park, the most beautiful sports setting in North America. This season I've followed with my own sons the team's stunning journey into the postseason. I've been happy to pass on an affection that my dad gave to me, in the midst of our various preoccupations and, most recently, bewildering turmoil. Baseball is America's greatest game. Throughout 2010 together we've cheered for the Giants, who have now made our gentlest, most elegant city their home for more than 50 years.