by Celeste Johnson
Beginnings…
Uncertainty. There was a time that word would never
Have described the Slight Beloved one.
There was a time that his day meant brightness, joy,
A win when there were so few to be had.
Now there is uncertainty and sadness.
These emotions should never have been connected
To our Slight Beloved. And he was ours. Is still.
So slight, so small but always a Giant heart.
Little was known but much had been heard
About the skinny kid with the funny last name.
Only that when the ball left his hand it was 97, 98, 99.
Always doubted until pitch was thrown.
The Slight One took the mound,
Twenty-two, looking all of twelve
He stood and then unfurled. A motion poetic,
The ball released. Debut deceptive leaving little hint
Of what brilliance would follow.
There would be love…
The age of Bonds was drawing to a close.
What would follow nobody knew.
Light breaks in ways we never expect.
Joy steals across our hearts in unthought ways.
That May saw joy begin as a slender boyish presence
Climbed the mound. In the dour later years of
The Bonds era this fresh-faced, shy kid
With a joyful smile, balletic grace and 97, 98, 99 started
To become a part of our hearts.
A whirling dervish. Beautiful completeness.
His motion touched our souls and made them sing.
Electric current flowed on days he pitched.
There would be love…
After the dour days of the recent past
He brought life and hope and above all fun to the ballpark.
Electric on the mound; goofy and endearing off it.
The Slight One brought Them back to see.
To see David take on Goliath…
And to watch Goliath flail once, twice, thrice and
Begin that bewildered walk to dugout glancing back
Wondering what exactly had just happened.
There would be love…
There was nascent hope…
At a time when there was little to cheer the Faithful,
There he was, the Slight One, giving reason for cheer.
Often mistaken for a clubbie he matched his slight frame
Against the league’s best hitters. Fastball spotted, a curve
To unbalance, and another 96 to swing straight through.
Bewildered they took their seat on Kruk’s famed pine 265 times,
A San Francisco record.
There was nascent hope…
Word spread. Crowds grew. The Giants won on
“Happy Lincecum Day.” Joy suffused. Happiness shared.
Hopes grew…at least on the days when the Slight–
Quickly becoming the Beloved–One took the mound.
Poetic motion, Electrifying stuff. Baseball was fun again.
And off the field the one rapidly becoming known
Only as “Timmy” was engaging, goofy and entirely
Unique. Skater caps and a smile that lit up his entire face.
Happy emotion pouring through, letting us know
He was marveling at this as much as the Faithful.
He slipped into our hearts and gave us joy.
There was nascent hope…
There was pride. Pride amid the fan base. The Beloved remained
Humble and a little taken aback at the fervent love from the Faithful.
A heart that wanted to give had to learn when not to.
Never an easy lesson for one so giving,
For a good heart still learning. At his core he was still shy.
Crowds, even adoring ones, a challenge for one still reticent.
There was nascent hope…
In a year where postseason hope was something other
People had, the Faithful had their Beloved.
He was their hope. In thirty four starts he delivered
Twenty-two team victories, losing only twelve.
Eighteen of those wins were after a loss.
“Happy Lincecum Day” accounted for a
Third of the team’s total victories.
There was nascent hope…
In a season of nothing special,
The Beloved One was weaving something unique.
In the meandering days of a season going nowhere,
Every fifth day held a pinpoint of promise,
To see something special. To see beauty and
Bewilderment in equal measure.
To see joy and accomplishment contained within
One five-foot-eleven-inch frame; the mound his home.
And we were all invited in to watch.
Game after game that whirling poetic motion
Mesmerized the league’s hitters
And in the end there was no other choice
And it has not been close.
The skinny kid with the funny last name.
The slight one who stole into the hearts of the
Faithful and showed them his joy.
The one who allowed the Faithful to begin hoping again
Had won that which only one other in
The Orange and Black could claim four decades past.
Cy Young was his. Honored so young; just the second to
Wear the Orange and Black. Joy flowing through his smiling
Face and we shared the moment with him.
Heart’s journey begun. Where it would lead…?