Ten years ago this week, my life was almost as quiet and unimpressive as it is now, and yet even then I wrote something every day in my paper journal. There was one overriding concern on my mind: the possibility that the Giants would be sold and moved from San Francisco to Tampa Bay before the next baseball season started.
Monday, September 7, 1992
Pending labor negotiations are at the top of a long list of reasons the baseball owners have forced the resignation of Commissioner Fay Vincent. It was a mere coincidence that the resignation came on Labor Day.
Local analysts are divided on how this development will affect the impending sale of the Giants, but it seems the need to select a successor will push the Giants issue further down the agenda, making it more difficult for the Florida people to prepare their stadium for major league baseball before spring and giving Bay Area people more time to cement deals for the purchase of the team and the construction of a new ballpark.
[I used to love writing long, complex sentences. Still do, but I restrain myself when I'm writing my journal entries.]
My day off was a big bust. Mom and I had planned to go to Costco, but it was closed. So I worked, read, watched some TV, did some cleaning. My landlady Gloria dropped by to measure the doors. I guess that means I'm getting new ones. Mom called once, and Suzanne called tonight, after everyone had left their party, to ask for my Santa Barbara tape.
Tuesday, September 8, 1992
By the time I got home at 9:30 tonight, I was exhausted, and I still had to put away groceries and laundry. After work I went to the bank and then stopped at Suzanne's to drop off the tape. She was getting ready to take Eric to work, and John and David were watching TV, so I didn't stay long.
Mom and I made our Costco trip, stopping for gas on the way. Afterward she wanted to eat at Coco's because they were giving away a free piece of pie with dinner. (I had sugar-free banana cream.)
When I took her home we said goodbye, because she's leaving for vacation Thursday and I'm going to the game tomorrow night. I still had to do my grocery shopping, but on a full stomach it didn't take nearly as long as usual.
San Francisco mayor Frank Jordan met with National League president Bill White in New York today and was assured that the owners would not take up the Giants sale at their meeting in St. Louis tomorrow. However, the people from Florida will be there lobbying, and San Francisco won't be represented. So...
Wednesday, September 9, 1992
For awhile today, this seemed like one of those days when anything that could go wrong would. The drive in to work this morning was one obstruction after another. Then this afternoon as I was getting ready to leave for the game, the Boss decided he wanted to meet me at the Napa library. After several wrong turns and a lengthy search for a parking space, I got a late start into the commute traffic.
But: I did get to the game on time, about an hour before it started. And: Although I was alone, Vera [my favorite usher] asked me to come down into her section and sit with her regulars. And: The game was a reasonably entertaining one, even though the Giants were beaten by the Astros, 6-4.
And, most importantly, Bill White said today at the owners' meeting in St. Louis that he would present the case for George Shinn's group [out-of-state investors who would keep the Giants in San Francisco] and allow the owners to choose between it and the Tampa Bay proposal.
This assumes, of course, that a firm and competitive offer is forthcoming in the very near future. Apparently only legal technicalities stand in the way of the showdown between the two Bay Areas. [The Shinn proposal later turned out to be a farce that never amounted to anything. Local investors were found in time to save the Giants for San Francisco.]
Thursday, September 10, 1992
Tonight I did something I've never done before. I was at Mom's taking Rudy [her dog, duh] out for the second time, when I saw the flat tire. My first thought was to call John, but I decided to wait until I was sure I couldn't change it myself.
I got out the spare and the jack (which had a diagram on it showing where to put it). With great effort and much grease, I got the rear end jacked up, the lug nuts loosened, the flat replaced with the dinky little spare, and everything stowed away. Then I drove to the service station and had the tire repaired and replaced.
For a disaster, it didn't turn out too badly.
Ed was sick this morning and didn't come in till after lunch, and when he did he was in one of his foul moods, when everything's wrong and life isn't worth living. I was already running on half a tank from being out so late last night, so his moodiness really brought me down.
I told him what I would want someone to tell me, that this kind of negative thinking reverses itself quickly when a person's situation changes for the better.