Do you hear what I hear?
I hope you can hear what I hear from the balcony of my apartment.
As the morning newscaster I should be asleep right now — 4:00 am comes around quickly — but I had to see it, and hear it for myself. Something in me knew that as the game wound down, as Brian Wilson did what he does so well, that I should mute the TV, open my window and listen to the city. Sure enough, that instinct was right; San Francisco was going audibly nuts.
Two buildings down, people stepped onto their balconies and shouted their delight to each other. Down the hill fireworks blasted in the skies, twinkling and beaming almost as brightly as the smiles on countless faces. On every street in town, cars in endless rivers of headlights honked and honked, their drivers pumping their fists and waving their hands.
That jolt you felt? It wasn’t a tremor. It was an entire city jumping for joy, together.
Those of us who do this job feel very honored to be living witnesses to the life of this community. Often what we see is unpleasant, but sometimes — like this time — it’s more than pleasant. It’s euphoric. It’s elation in surround sound. So go ahead, Giants: take your champagne baths. You’ve earned them. I’m content to bathe in the sweet sounds of victory, all around me.
Do you hear it?