This may be unethical or maybe not even legal, but I'll take my chances since this article is from 2001. It was in the SF Chronicle and written by KNBR morning host Brian Murphy-- a huge longtime Giants fan.
I for one tend to agree with a lot of aspects of this piece, and found it especially relevant for this year.
Games will never be like the sparsely populated drunken anger fests like we had in Candlestick way back in the day. The new park is the most gorgeous thing we've laid eyes on, but with that, as Murphy points out, came with a new set of clientele and codes of behavior.
With that being said, I really think that these last few years of ugliness has helped sort out the garbage fairweather fans. If anything, these growing pains have helped reinvigorate the real fans.
Make it a hostile atmosphere. Make Matt Kemp hate playing in San Francisco. Make their fans feel uncomfortable. Get loud and rowdy. Act like a Raider fan without being inappropriate around kids and stabbing people.
Plain and simple, bring back the old attitude that Giants fans used to exhibit. Burn a Dodgers flag by the cable car in right center, make these people think twice about coming into our yard.
Here is the article. It can be found here.
Beauty of a ballpark might end ugly rivalry
Wednesday, April 18, 2001
I WILL attend tonight's Dodgers-Giants game as a fan, but will do so with a pain in my heart -- and not because of the half-dozen Krispy Kremes I plan to wash down with a couple of Anchor Steams. That kind of pain is different, and will last well into the night before the Mylanta kicks in.
I speak of a deep, cutting pain. A pain that mourns the death of the Dodgers-Giants rivalry. A death perpetrated by, of all things, that monument to beauty, Pacific Bell Park.
Now, I'm not bagging on Pac Bell. Hell, I've seen the Roman Colosseum and I'm still waiting for a sight to top our little miracle on Third Street, the place that forces me to weep every time I see it -- though if anybody accuses me of going soft, I'll say it's my allergies.
But the one unfortunate casualty of Pac Bell is the Spirit of Dodger Hatred.
Not only has Giants geography changed, but so have demographics, and with them, attitudes.
A Dodgers-Giants game at Candlestick used to mean so many things, but mostly it meant an unmistakable scent of passion. (Or perhaps that was the storm front of marijuana smoke that accompanied every Dodgers tilt at the 'Stick.) Regardless, fists flew, traffic was terrible, the weather was abysmal and we loved every pitch of it.
The conditions bred toughness. It was awesome. It was a buddy following Tommy Lasorda down the right-field line in 1986 and bellowing, with all his might: "Hey, Lasorda, is that your belt, or THE EQUATOR?" It was Lasorda responding: "What mental institution did they let you out of?"
It was high-fiving a drunken stranger by the fourth inning, as if you had met your soul mate, and he was a bearded Hells Angel from Gilroy. It was watching a 7-year-old boy in Dodgers regalia get showered with peanut shells. The kid was wearing a Dodgers jacket and hat to the 'Stick. His old man should have known better.
It was marveling at the mayhem of Black Tuesday in '88, when the lads in the outfield seats went Soccer Fan on Kirk Gibson, forcing the Giants to put up metal barriers between the seats and the fence. Metal barriers, man! That's the stuff you read about on Reuters dispatches from Amsterdam!
Then it changed. Last year, the Dodgers played a night game at Pac Bell. The game featured a stunning development in the bleachers: Dodgers center fielder Todd Hollandsworth played the third inning while sucking on a Tootsie Pop, a display that would have unleashed havoc in the bleachers at the 'Stick. Two fans sitting near me understood. They roasted Hollandsworth without mercy. One tried to lead the crowd in the old '50s ditty, "Lollipop." The masses were mute. The other pleaded with a throat-scratching roar: "Dude, could you hook me up with one next inning? No, seriously! Get me, like, a cherry! Or an orange! But none of that stinkin' ROOT BEER!" That the fan channeled the Hanson Brothers from "Slap Shot" was funny enough; that he was devoting every ounce of his energy to ripping Hollandsworth was worthy of tribute from the surrounding fans. At most, a parade of the fan on shoulders; at the least, a round of beers.
Depressingly, the crowd's only response came from a guy sitting behind them who spoke the following words into a little machine: "No, look one section over. No, closer to left field. Yes! I'm wearing a yellow jacket! Yes, I'm waving to you!"
Now. I have nothing against cell phones. I have one. I use it for critical cases, like being all lost in the supermarket and calling my wife. I just can't see using it at a Giants-Dodgers game so, like, your friends know exactly where you are! And you can wave!
Bottom line: At Pac Bell when the Dodgers come to town, there is too much Chavez Ravine, not enough Hunters Point. And I've seen dozens of Giants- Dodgers games down there at that baby-blue stadium, witnessing Giants fans show up in full Giants uniforms, trying to incite anarchy. They go virtually ignored. Yet I fear that tonight, if some cat walked through my section wearing Dodger white and his back read: "GARVEY 6," he'd go as unnoticed as the guy next to him on the cell phone, directing his friends to his general area, so he could wave!
Let me be clear. I don't want Pac Bell razed. I adore the place. I don't want to move Giants games back to C-P. I just want to bring a little of the old ghosts up Third Street. I want some guy in a Mike Ivie jersey (No. 15, of course), to lead a rhythmic clap. I want some guy in a Dodgers hat to be shamed out of his seat, or, at the very least, to leave muttering: "Man, Giants fans, those guys are animals."
You know, I used to hate the "Beat L.A." chants. I thought the chant was a little provincial, a little sad, a little lacking.
Now, I miss them.
Heard they came back last night as Robb Nen was doing his overpowering job in the ninth.
Here's hoping they stay.