1959 A born-again conscience ruins everything
The impending glory: With eight games to go, the Giants lead the pennant race by two games—and Herman Franks joins the team as a spy. Eight years before, as a player, Franks had stolen opponents’ pitching signs with great efficacy during the streak that culminated in Bobby Thomson’s famous pennant-winning home run. The team loves the idea of repeating that history.
The staggering blow: Star pitcher Al Worthington, who’d witnessed the Reverend Billy Graham at a rally at the Cow Palace the year before and seen the light, tells man­ager Bill Rigney he’ll go home if the team cheats. The players know Worth­ington will reveal the team’s plan if asked by reporters why he quit, so they back down. The Giants lose seven of the final eight games and finish third.
The eyewitness: Darryl Spencer, now 79, the team’s second baseman, in a phone interview from Wichita, Kansas: “You couldn’t believe the morale on our team—the bottom fell out. Al and I were roommates and the best of friends, but all he wanted to do was talk religion. I love the guy, but, boy, that really irritated me. It’s all right to be born again, but my god, don’t screw up the whole team. I can’t get that out of my mind.”

1962 The most painful line drive of all
The impending glory: In a rain-drenched World Series, the Giants battle the mighty New York Yankees to a seventh game. Down 1–0 in the ninth inning of the deciding game, the young, exceptionally powerful left-handed slugger Willie McCovey comes to bat with two outs and runners on second and third base, and hits a screaming line drive.
The staggering blow: The blow that will win the World Series instead goes straight into the glove of Yankees second baseman Bobby Richardson, ending the season.
The eyewitness: “Stretch” McCovey, the Hall of Fame first baseman, now 70: “We weren’t really upset, because we thought we had that good of a team, and that much youth. ‘This is a bump in the road. We’ll be playing in the World Series for the next 10 years.’”

1965–1969 Bridesmaids in orange and black
The impending glory: For five years, the Giants field the game’s most talent-rich team, with four Hall of Fame players at the peak of their careers—Willies Mays and McCovey, plus pitchers Juan Marichal and Gay­lord Perry—and win almost 60 percent of their games.
The staggering blow: The Giants finish second in the pennant race all five years. Either the Dodgers (led by Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale) or the Cardinals (with Bob Gibson) always manage to be better.
The eyewitnesses: Tito Fuentes, the Giants’ second baseman in the 1960s and early 1970s, and now a Giants broadcaster on Spanish radio: “Our manager, Herman Franks, didn’t know anything about the game. He was scared. Herman said, ‘If you get one out, you kill a rally,’ so he didn’t let us steal bases. He believed you can only win a game 42–0. That’s why the Dodgers beat us: They bunted, they hit and run. We didn’t win close games.” Willie Mays, now 76: “Unfortunately, we came in second place a lot.”

1987 Goose eggs in the Gateway City
The impending glory: In the Nat­ional League Championship Series, the Giants take a three-games-to-two lead over the Cardinals and seem headed to the World Series for the first time in 25 years, thanks to Will Clark’s hitting and the pitching of just acquired Rick Reuschel.
The staggering blow: The Giants fail to score a single run in the final two games, losing both on memorably tragic plays. In game six, gambling right fielder Candy Maldonado slides to catch a Tony Peña fly ball, only to have it zip behind him for a triple; Peña then scores the game winner on a fly ball. In the final, weak hitter José Oquendo rocks a three-run homer off hot-and-cold pitcher Atlee Hammaker to kill off the Giants, who are forced to huddle in their St. Louis hotel rooms overnight, waiting to fly home.
The eyewitness: Mike Krukow, the team’s star pitcher on the San Francisco team who many thought should have started game seven: “It was just agonizing. We had to listen to the horns honking as the whole city went nuts. When you’re going full bore extending your season, it’s all on adrenaline. It’s incredible how it fills everyone’s gas tank. But then when it’s over, the concrete legs we dragged onto the plane—it was awful. It took me a month before I could put one foot in front of the other. I’ve never gotten over it.”

1989 Shake, rattle—and roll over
The impending glory: Welcome to heaven, local baseball fan: The first and only Bay Bridge World Series features the Giants bats of Will Clark and Kevin Mitchell versus Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire, the juiced-up Bash Brothers of the Oakland A’s.
The staggering blow: At 5:04 p.m., just as game three is about to start at sunny Candlestick Park, the massive Loma Prieta earthquake hits. When the Series finally resumes 10 days and 67 deaths later, the A’s complete their sweep of the Giants.
The eyewitness: Current Giants broadcaster Duane Kuiper, a light-hitting infielder with the Giants: “It was the first World Series I had ever been to. And I really felt that I wasn’t supposed to be at a World Series game.”

1993 Winning never felt so bad
The impending glory: After four ballot measures fail to relocate the team from Candlestick Park, Bob Lurie sells the team, which almost moves to St. Petersburg, Florida. But a local group, led by the Giants’ pres­ident, Peter Magowan, saves the Giants and signs free agent and local hero Barry Bonds (above, being welcomed by Willie Mays). The team embarks on a magical season, winning 103 games, their most ever. Somehow, however, the Atlanta Braves keep pace. The season comes down to a four-game series in Los Angeles, with the final game slated for October 3—the anniversary of memorable Giants victories over the Dodgers in 1951, 1962, and 1982. For good luck, Magowan attends the series with legendary Giants Bobby Thomson and Willie Mays, who, Magowan admits, hates to sit in the stands. “But he did it for me.”
The staggering blow: With rookie pitcher Salomon Torres on the mound, the team loses 12–1 to the Dodgers and misses the playoffs.
The eyewitness: Peter Magowan: “We won on Thursday, and we won on Friday, and we won on Saturday. We’ve got to win a fourth time, but my good-luck charms ran out.”

1998 Smoke on the water
The impending glory: After winning six straight games, the Giants of Barry Bonds and great second baseman Jeff Kent take a huge 7–0 lead in the fifth inning in Colorado on the last day of the season, and are on the verge of clinching a playoff berth.
The staggering blow: The team loses the lead, and then—after tying the game in the eighth inning—watches as flame-throwing closer Robb Nen (above) gives up a game-winning home run to light-hitting Neifi Perez to lead off the ninth. The collapse symbolizes a six-year run of disap­pointments in which the team is swept out of the 1997 playoffs by the upstart Florida Marlins (who somehow get to play the first two games at home; the next year, that rule changes); sees another championship run fizzle in the wrenching 2000 playoff loss to the New York Mets; and—in the same 2001 game in which Barry Bonds sets the single-season home-run mark—is eliminated by the Dodgers with just two games to go.
The eyewitness: Fan Joseph De Wolk, now 23, who became a cynic watching these teams: “I hate Robb Nen. He sums it all up for me. He had a ton of blown saves every year. And ‘Smoke on the Water’—that’s a dumb theme song for a closer. It was the kind of team that if you let them coast, they could win, but if you put the screws on them, they wouldn’t. The team never had that extra thing that makes teams win.”

2002 Eight outs away
The impending glory: Clawing into the World Series for the first time since Loma Prieta, the Giants take a three-games-to-two lead over the Anaheim Angels and, with Russ Ortiz pitching beautifully in the sixth game, pull ahead 5–0 in the seventh inning. The clubhouse attendants get the champagne ready.
The staggering blow: When Ortiz gives up two hits, manager Dusty Baker comes out to the mound, speaks with his pitcher, then suddenly hands Ortiz the game ball and sends him to the dugout in a move that’s second-guessed to this day. Baker’s choice of reliever, Felix Rodriguez, duels Scott Spiezio in an eight-pitch at-bat, putting seven pitches on the outside corner, until he sends one down and in. Spiezio nails a three-run homer, sparking a 6–5 comeback. Though the Giants have another chance the next day, the stunned team loses 4–1.
The eyewitness: J.T. Snow, the Giants’ slick-fielding first baseman: “When Dusty came out to the mound, I could tell he hadn’t made up his mind. He wanted to talk to the pitcher and see how he feels. But Russ Ortiz was waiting to see what Dusty would do. It was just one of those things: Dusty wasn’t sure, and Russ is a quiet guy. So Dusty made the decision. Eight more outs and I’d have a World Series ring, and I’d be wearing it around wherever I go.”

2007 Barry gets a record
The impending glory: Barry Bonds is Giants royalty: His father, Bobby Bonds, was a Giants star; his god­father was Willie Mays; and for 15 years, he thrilled even the most jaded fans, becoming the most exciting and feared hitter ever to put on a baseball uniform. Still capable at age 43, he climbs inexorably toward the most important record in American sports: the all-time home run record held by Henry Aaron.
The staggering blow: Just as Bonds finally does it, the BALCO and steroid messes collapse on top of him. In September, the team declares that he’s finished in San Francisco, and all his glorious history comes to this: jeers from opposing fans who say his record deserves an asterisk; zero World Series titles; and an indictment for perjury.
The eyewitness: Blogger Jakey, at therevolutionorange.com: “Barry is not coming back. Take a deep breath. Let it sink in. Barry is not coming back. It just strikes me as odd. The way it all went down. The contrast of it all. The jubilant scene that was number 756 to the dead man fielding in left. It all just reeks of ‘wham, bam, thank you Barry’ to me.”