Some criticize fairweather fans. Some teams think that unless you’ve been rooting for the hometeam since you were old enough for an officially sanctioned onesie, you have no right to cheer for their team. Fans are insular, cultish in times, steeped in the lore of stats, team colors, and player personalities. Inquiring as to the draw of a sport to a hardcore obsessive and you may get no more than a snort and an eye roll – keeping your love of sport inaccessible makes it special to you, makes it specific to your personal upbringing and personal quirks.

You know what I love about SF Giants fans? During the playoffs I was wearing orange and black (I have a great deal of it) at a coffee shop to get in the spirit, and I had four strangers give me a high five, or breathlessly recount the previous evening’s pitching dynamics. When I nervously admitted that I’m a newbie in this city, and that – don’t hit me – that I know absolutely nothing about baseball, these dedicated fans insisted that they explain some nuance, or enlighten me as to how certain cleats can induce a minor fashion scandal.

The shot above was taken on Union after the Giants won the World Series. First baseball team I’ve ever rooted for, first world series I’ve ever watched, first time in a winning city. It was wonderful.