Monday’s game at AT&T Park was an emotional one. Prior to the National Anthem, former Giants infielder Juan Uribe reunited with his teammates on the pitcher’s mound when presented his World Series ring by managing general partner Bill Neukom. A teary-eyed Uribe, now wearing Dodger blue, raised his cap to the standing 40,087-plus fans in attendance and those peering in from outside the right field fence.
And as if that were not sad enough, the game marked the first of the Giants-Dodgers series at San Francisco after an attack at Dodger Stadium left a Giants fan in an induced coma.
For those of who haven’t heard, here is a quick recap ”” on Thursday, March 31, 2011, the 2010 World Series champs were defeated by the Los Angeles Dodgers in the last game of the MLB season opener. The low point came after the 2-1 Dodger victory when 42-year-old Bryan Stow, a paramedic from Santa Cruz, Calif., was nearly beaten to death in the parking lot by two unidentified men in Dodger gear. Stow remains in critical condition at Los Angeles County-USC Hospital. The two suspects have yet to be found.
After the National Anthem, both teams reassembled around the pitcher’s mound. But this time, all caps were off in a moment of silence for Stow and his family and all ears were on Giants reliever Jeremy Affeldt and Dodgers second baseman Jamey Carroll.
“I don’t have to tell you about the Dodgers-Giants [rivalry],”Affeldt said. “It’s one of the most storied rivalries in the history of the game, but in honoring that rivalry and honoring the Stow family, you have to remember when these two teams get on the field and play, we’re competitive. But when the last out is made, that rivalry ends on the field, so please respect that.”
“There’s no room in this game for hatred and violence. It is about respect,” Carroll said. “This is America’s national pastime and let’s keep it that way.”
It was a sad moment in Giants-Dodgers history, as well as baseball history. A moment that could possibly break the 100-year rivalry or make it even uglier. The measures taken to avert fans from retaliation were extreme. However, they were necessary.
The Giants dedicated Monday’s game to Stow ”” inviting more than 30 members of his family and 80 of his colleagues from American Medical Response to collect money for The Bryan Stow Fund. More than $200,000 has been raised and counting.
Here’s hoping this dude wakes up and those guys are caught.
Anonymous • Apr 13, 2011 at 5:37 pm
What happened to the guy outside of Dodger stadium, whether he instigated or threw fuel on the fire or not, is tragic and repulsive. But to go out of one’s way to give kudos to players and fans for a public acknowledgment of the obvious, which is that it is not okay to behave like barbarians just because we (MLB) players can. A league which does not penalize players for leaving dugouts during player-induced brawls (like the NBA does), and which tolerates man-on-man brutality as “part of the game” is probably good for ratings, but not when you are trying to tell people how to act. And the two franchises involved had to get directly involved because not doing so is a public-relations nightmare.
The public outcry over this really signifies our inability to acknowledge just how often these tragedies occur. This is why I cannot cry (even though I might like to) for 9/11 victims and I won’t cry or publicly give “kudos” for the overtly sentimental moment for Stow, because it is a slap in the face towards those others who have suffered equal or greater plights. Bad things happen to good people, and vice versa, all the time, and though we should not grow immune to this human predicament of unnecessary suffering, this article acknowledges and commends the acts of sympathy, not the tragedy or suffering of Stow. To speak honestly, the “moment of silence” and “dedication to Stow” by the Giants instigates dry-heaving in me. It is not quite as bad as saying the New Orleans Saints Super Bowl win in some way could alleviate the hardships New Orleans natives endured, and that is could lift the spirits of the city; it is a denial of a tangible reality.