Yesterday was an orange day in San Francisco, a day worth putting responsibilities aside in order to get down there and be a part of it. Amongst fans who had cheered the Giants to their World Series victory in Monday night, fans who cheered the Giants through the post season, fans who had rallied the 2010 "misfits" team when they were playing to win, fans who chanted their names when they were playing like an "unbelievable" machine, fans who cheered our homeboys -- including a rookie named, of all names, Buster -- when they played like fools and lifelong fans who have been waiting for as long as they can remember to savor the sweetness of a 56-years-in-the-making world championship, I reveled in yesterday's parade and subsequent celebration knowing that the memory of it will bring smiles to faces in the city for a long time to come.

Donning a shirt I bought during the 2002 season (a #5 Tsuyoshi Shinjo shirt, the center fielder who hit the first Major League homer I ever witnessed in person at the then still new Giants ballpark and a player who went from "one to watch" to "hard to watch" in the span of just a few months) and hadn't worn or washed since game seven of that wretched "Rally Monkey" series, I headed out for the beginning of the parade route (four blocks from my Chinatown roost) to cheer everyone on our home team through the streets of the Financial District, only to make the journey across town to meet up with the frenzied masses again at parade's end in front of City Hall. Despite the fact that it was an unusually hot day in San Francisco, with hardly a breeze to speak of, my old Giants tee never felt so fresh or so clean (clean).