On opening day, I wrote a Giants-related homage to The Shawshank Redemption;
it's a very quotable movie and, sadly, the notion of unjust
imprisonment strikes a chord with San Francisco fans. So, after last
night's potentially season-altering loss, we return to Shawshank and its signature quandary: Get busy living or get busy dying.
Of course, we know what happens in the cinematic world: The battle over whether "Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane" or "Hope is a good thing -- maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies" is resolved in favor of the latter. Andy Dufresne gets busy living -- and escapes to freedom through "500 yards of shit-smelling foulness."
(By the way, if you can manage a Morgan Freeman imitation for just one minute at a time, you can't do better than to amaze your party guests by intoning: "Andy crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of shit smelling
foulness I can't even imagine, or maybe I just don't want to. Five
hundred yards ... that's the length of five football fields, just shy of
half a mile.")
The Giants have provided plenty of shit-smelling foulness, but no freedom. Sadly, this team has rewarded its pessimists. It always has, for more than half a century. And yet, every year, fans convince themselves to watch -- first with a passing interest, then a passion, and, ultimately, a smoldering discontent. In the best of years, our hopes have been painfully and abruptly quelled.
It sounds dysfunctional and maybe it is. But, as a Giants fan, I'm not ready to give up now.
I just want the chance to be hurt worse later. I hope the team can do that for us.