The Best Intentions Fall Short

Fifteen or so years ago, the San Francisco Giants were going to pick up and move here.

Bob Lurie saved them for the city by the Bay. He threw them a great big life preserver. Single-handedly, Lurie kept the San Francisco (nee New York) Giants from becoming part of the Canadian trade agreement.

Toronto got an expansion team instead.

You might have heard of them. They call them the Blue Jays and they wear funny little birdies on their caps.

Well, you should have heard those Bay Area TV chatterboxes Monday night after a gaggle of local businessmen made a bid to save San Francisco’s bacon once again.

One newsman sat there with a very serious expression on his face and, in his best Ted Baxter voice, said he sees no reason why baseball should turn down San Francisco’s generous offer of $95 million to accept Tampa Bay’s previous bid of $115 million.

The newswoman at his side, who clearly got straight A’s in journalism class, gave him a quizzical look and asked: “Why would you say that?”

“Because all they have to do now is give Tampa an expansion team,” he replied.

Her eyebrows moved up and down like Groucho Marx’s.

“An expansion team?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said. “Five years from now, award Tampa an expansion team.”

The anchorwowan seemed somewhat uncomfortable, none of this conversation appearing on her TelePrompTer.

“What makes you think Tampa would wait five years for an expansion team?” she asked.

(As I said, she was pretty sharp.)

And, giving one of the great answers to any question in TV news history, the guy said:

“Because then baseball would get San Francisco’s $95 million and Tampa’s $115 million.”

This, I believe, is what the wise American philosopher Mel Brooks once referred to as “authentic frontier gibberish.”

Like, baseball definitely is going to have expansion five years from now.

And, like, Tampa Bay is going to be guaranteed to get the next team, no matter what.

(They have been swallowing that one in central Florida for about 20 years now.)

And, like, the place that bids $115 million, with a stadium already built, should be impressed by a place that bids $95 million, with no money, no blueprints and no approved location for a new stadium anywhere from San Francisco to San Jose.

The guy from the Safeway grocery chain, Peter Magowan, who has become the leadoff man for San Francisco’s ninth-inning rally, said Monday he didn’t have the slightest idea where the Giants would play baseball once he and his brethren bought the club.

“That’s something we’ll resolve after we own the team,” Magowan said.

Oh, of course. Maybe they will go door to door, calling on taxpayers to pony up another couple of hundred million bucks to erect a new ballpark.

What’s that? You say maybe the new owners will pay for a new stadium out of their own pockets?

Sure they will.

That’s why they offered $20 million less than the Florida people did--because they have so much money.

To quote Herb Caen in his ever-clever San Francisco Chronicle column Tuesday:

“As for those who keep bleating: ‘I don’t want the Giants to leave!’ It’s simple: Lay 95 mill on the line and be prepared to lose at least $5 million a year.”

San Francisco’s latest offer is a year late and a few million dollars short.

Bill White, the president of the National League, appeared to side with the local investment group after it made its presentation, but what was he supposed to do--turn the entire community of San Francisco against him? White’s popularity might have waned had his response been: “Get real.”

Are San Fran’s fans good fans?

Of course they are.

They cheer and they jeer and they brave the elements and they think Will Clark is a peach of a guy and they let their little children play leapfrog over one another to get at those foul balls beyond the left-field fence.

Does San Francisco deserve baseball?

Of course it does.

But New York didn’t do anything to deserve losing the Giants in the first place, any more than Brooklyn deserved to lose the Dodgers.

I have a friend from Baltimore who used to worship the Colts. He could tell you every player who ever played a down for that football team. He could have passed a test like that one Steve Guttenberg’s fiancee had to pass in the movie “Diner.” He couldn’t imagine the Colts playing anywhere else.

But when Bob Irsay packed up a van with the Colts’ belongings and moved them lock, stock and jockstraps to a city in Indiana, my friend took solace in one thing and one thing only.

Everybody--everybody--told him Baltimore would get the next NFL team.

As soon as professional football has another expansion, he was assured, Baltimore gets dibs. Baltimore has to have a football team. Baltimore has the greatest fans you will ever find.

Well, eight years have passed, and there is no football team in Baltimore. The NFL has postponed expansion again and again. And the next two teams--according to the people I have spoken to--are going to St. Louis and Charlotte, N.C.

San Francisco, there are no more life preservers for your Giants, I’m afraid.

Kiss them goodby.