NEWS ANALYSIS : Loss of Giants to San Jose Adds to Self-Doubts in San Francisco

OK, so it’s still got great sourdough, cute cable cars and that majestic red bridge called the Golden Gate. But before long, San Francisco may well be a city without a baseball team. Worse, locals may lose their Giants to San Jose, the upstart outpost that sophisticated San Franciscans love to loathe.

The columnists here insist there is no cause for alarm. “The City,” as residents smugly call their hometown, will not become bush-league simply because nine grown men are no longer fielding batted balls in a local ZIP code.

But make no mistake: This is bad news for San Francisco.

Cities fight like pit bulls to land professional sports teams these days, offering trunkloads of money and other incentives in exchange for the major-league stature a franchise can bring. How could San Francisco, whose ballclub won the National League pennant just three seasons back, let their black-capped Giants slip away?

Explanations abound, and finger-pointing became a popular pastime here last week. But one thing seems clear: The loss of the Giants would be the crowning blow in a series of setbacks that have a lot of folks wondering if this city has lost its edge.

Consider what has happened over a decade or two. The once-thriving port has watched most of its traffic float across the bay to Oakland. Businesses are fleeing a hostile tax climate, and the city faces a $120-million budget deficit. Scenic San Francisco may remain the chief tourist draw, but the Bay Area’s economic engine is now fueled more by the microchip magnates of Silicon Valley.

“The notion that San Francisco can’t even keep a sports team says a lot about the city, and it’s not a positive message,” observed Ed Moose, a restaurateur who led two campaigns to build a new stadium to keep the Giants in town. “It’s just another event that adds to the sense that we are not doing a good job here.”

The new mayor, Frank Jordan, campaigned as an ace reliever, pledging to reverse San Francisco’s troubling slide. We are not a city in decline, he told supporters at his inauguration. They roared their approval--just moments after a video montage flashed footage of the Giants clinching the pennant in 1989.

But then--on day No. 8 of Jordan’s first term--came the painful announcement, arriving like a wicked knuckleball: San Jose was kicking in $155 million to build a roomy new stadium and woo the team away. The only hurdle? A vote of the people in June.

Poor Jordan. Before he could even savor the view from his City Hall window, he faced a political calamity from which he might never recover. The mayor, who promised to fight for the team, declared himself shocked by the news.

Impossible, responded team officials. For months, San Francisco’s newspapers have been full of the Giants’ negotiations with San Jose.

“It should not have been a bombshell for him,” said Corey Busch, the team vice president. “I remember one headline that read ‘Giants Ready to Go South.’ We sure didn’t mean L.A.”

Still, Giants owner Bob Lurie might have been willing to wait and talk things over with Jordan if not for two words the candidate uttered in the closing weeks of his mayoral campaign: “wind baffles.”

Translated, this meant that Jordan wanted to retrofit Candlestick Park and keep the Giants there. Lurie, however, decided long ago that baseball should not be played in a freezer bedeviled by unpredictable gales. The owner had seen enough fans wrapped in blankets in July and watched enough shortstops chase their caps to the left-field fence.

When Jordan said “wind baffles,” Lurie saw San Jose. “It definitely left us with the impression that a Jordan Administration was not going to offer any encouraging alternatives,” Busch said.

In all fairness, Jordan was a man familiar with history. Twice San Franciscans have voted down plans to build a new stadium for their ballclub--in 1987 and 1989. The second vote, however, was in the wake of the devastating Loma Prieta earthquake, a time when hot dogs and pitchers’ duels seemed a low priority.

The 1989 campaign was also hurt by money from a Sacramento sports promoter, Gregg Lukenbill. Lukenbill was indicted along with four others--including Jordan’s campaign manager, Jack Davis--for conspiracy in connection with a mailer attacking the stadium plan. The prosecution later dropped the charges.

As Giants fans commiserated in San Francisco’s bars and Muni buses last week, the city’s neighbors tried not to gloat. If San Jose gets the Giants, it will have two pro teams (the second is the San Jose Sharks of hockey) to San Francisco’s one (the 49ers of the National Football League). The same is true for Oakland, which hosts the Athletics baseball team and the Golden State Warriors of the National Basketball Assn.

Oakland also has stolen some heavyweight business clients from San Francisco in recent years. Several corporations and the Caltrans regional headquarters have fled east, and the federal government overlooked San Francisco to put its gigantic twin towers project in Oakland.

“Oakland lost the Raiders, so we can understand what San Francisco is feeling,” said Hank Masler of the Oakland Chamber of Commerce. “I’d say they’ve lost some self-esteem, some tourist dollars, some publicity . . . and a vital force that can provide a community with fun and pride as well.”

Indeed, while economists tossed around figures and lamented that fewer blimp shots might mean fewer Clevelanders on Fisherman’s Wharf, others fretted more about the psychological damage--the discouraging message that San Francisco can no longer hold on to the things that make a city special. Ballgames--cheap, wholesome entertainment for kids and adults alike--are one of those things.

But Moose and like-minded fans are not giving up, noting that winning votes for a pricey ballpark during a recession will be no easy task for cash-strapped San Jose. San Francisco Supervisor Angela Alioto is also taking a stand, vowing to walk precincts in San Jose to defeat the ballot measure in June.

As for Jordan, he insists the team’s move “is not a done deal.” But somehow, the words sound a bit like a lonesome foghorn, barely audible in a thick mist.

Besides, Giants owner Bob Lurie already has a new cap. It has two orange letters on the front: SJ.