The Giants suck. So do the A's. But it could be a fun season.

By A.J. Hayes

How’s this for sunny spring time forecast: for the first time since the mid-1980s, both the Giants and A’s will enter the major league season without a sliver of a hope of contending for a playoff slot.

Sad face?

In fact, it will take a minor miracle for both clubs to finish higher than last place.

But that doesn’t mean that the 2008 baseball campaign has to be a snooze-fest. There’s something appealing about a losing baseball team. Football and basketball are just unwatchable when they’re performed shabbily, but bad baseball can be a hoot.

The train-wreck 1962 expansion New York Mets who went 40-120 turned the bumbling Marv Throneberry and Choo Choo Coleman into flannel uniformed folk heroes. The Chicago Cubs and the Boston Red Sox (until their recent World Series success) built up the most loyal fan bases in the game with their lovable losers flying in the wind like a prop-plane banner.

49ers fans, on the other hand, would just as soon forget this past splotchy season.

It’s something about the daily intimacy of baseball and the fact they the players have traditionally resembled normal humans – discounting the steroids era – that allows us to empathize. Baseball players are not covered up with helmets and pads, so we see the embarrassment when they bobble a pop-up the same way we might drop a jar of bread-and-butter pickles on our foot.

But baseball fans are not suckers, and not every lousy club is in a position to be celebrated.

We've invited fab local photog Darwin Bell to share some of his photos with us throughout the next month, and tell us what the heck he was thinking when he took them.

Redily Available

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Darwin Bell: "I LOVE colors, especially if it is all one color with different layers. And bright colors at that. Nothing beats the outside, weirdly painted red patchwork panels of the Zeitgeist bar on Valencia."

We've invited fab (and acclaimed!) local photog Darwin Bell to share some of his photos with us throughout the next month, and tell us what the heck he was thinking when he took them.

Metallic Rainbow

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Darwin Bell: "This is the outside of the new(ish) De Young Museum in Golden Gate Park. This is another fascinatingly designed SF building and definitely a challenge to photograph. Because of its size and shape, it is difficult to photograph as a whole, so I favor photographing fragments like this."

"It's okay that I'm alone."
"But maybe there's something wrong with me?"
"Maybe I'm just too picky."
"I'm young, I should be having sex."
"But I hate having sex with people I'm not really attracted to."
"Except when I'm traveling."

Thus were the questions plaguing San Franciscan Sasha Cagen that lead her to coin the term "quirkyalone." It started as a concept, then became an essay, an online community, and later a book, Quirkyalone: a manifesto for uncompromising romantics (HarperCollins 2004). Above all, quirkyalone is a movement.

Quirkyalone, Cagen defines, is "a person who enjoys being single (but is not opposed to being in a relationship) and generally prefers to be alone rather than dating for the sake of being in a couple."

To some, the term "quirkyalone" may conjure the image of an eccentric weirdo who embraces lifelong singledom for lack of dating opportunities. Quite the contrary, Cagen emphasizes: quirkyalones are not loner Jane Eyre-types, she says; they are often active, attractive, extroverts who are simply anti-dull relationships and anti-settling.

By A.J. Hayes

He hasn't made a basket catch since the early 1970s. He's not the best at remembering names. And his pride-and-joy godson has decamped the scene for good. But at age 76, is still the San Francisco Giants MVP - Most Valuable Personality.

By Vanessa Carr

Bay Area multimedia project Plain Human calls this Tuesday, March 11th "Prisoner Awareness Day." They ask that people wear orange – the color of most prison uniforms – in an effort to spark daily conversation about imprisonment and its effects on our communities. They also invite the public to participate in a group exercise regiment demonstration/performance outside of City Hall on Tuesday from 3:30 to 4:30 p.m.

"We want to break the silence that we carry as family members and members of communities that are criminalized," says San Francisco-based artist and Plain Human founder Mabel Negrete.

With a brother in prison, Negrete has personally experienced the rippling effects of incarceration in a family. Negrete worries that her brother, who struggles with mental illness and is one of many inmates who has acquired Hepatitis C inside prison walls, may never be able to return to normal life.

"His condition [since going to prison] has worsened because there is no rehabilitation for him to overcome the isolation of the incarceration," says Negrete. "I am not sure that he can come out of that. Conditions are such that people cannot improve."

Plain Human is part of the year-long Prison Project at Intersection for the Arts, which has featured a wide range of programs since it started in early 2007, from multiple gallery installations and a day-long conference in February 2008 featuring Angela Davis as its keynote, to a pen pal project that connects incarcerated and non-incarcerated artists. The Prison Project's closing exhibition, featuring artwork from both sides of the prison walls, will be on display through March 29, 2008.

By Colleen McCaffrey

The Financial District’s Belden Alley is what it is: a perfect spot for tourists, out-of-town guests, and lovers of mussels al fresco, the house specialty at Plouf. On a recent visit, my companions and I were served a heaping bowl of the dark-lipped Prince Edward Island offerings, steaming in a magna caude of shallots, bacon, white wine, parsley and cream. We opted for the steamed combo, which mixed little necks in with the mussels Poulette. We realized this was a decadent decision as we fished for the last crustaceans in a sauce so rich it reminded us of a hearty New England Clam chowder, sans potatoes. The lactose-intolerant may want to opt for one of the six other house specialty broth options for their steamers, as the cream in the Poulette was more of a primary candidate than a runningmate. Outdoor seating not at the mercy of car exhaust is rare in this city, so we enjoyed the Parisian dining experience in the lovely alley of Belden Lane, which can get quite busy at the noon hour but is always an afternoon delight. The recommended pomme frites could have been crispier, but after a few glasses of Sancerre, they made for a delectable accompaniment to the heavy Poulette.

Plouf
40 Belden Pl., SF
(415) 986-6491
http://www.belden-place.com/plouf/

We've invited fab local photog Darwin Bell to share some of his photos with us throughout the next month, and tell us what the heck he was thinking when he took them. And hey, it's "wear orange for prisoner awareness" day, so the following pic is perfect.

Dreamcicle

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Darwin Bell : "This is the first photograph I took that could be considered abstract and is really the first picture I took that made me really interested in photography. It's a shot of part of a white and orange cubic sculpture on 3rd Street (the cross street escapes me) in downtown SF. I think it's actually the corporate logo of the building it stands in front of."

By Justin Juul

Remember when the sun finally came out after a long harsh winter and you met up with all your friends in the park? Oh it was awesome! Sure you drank a little too much, but that only made your boisterous and entertaining side shine through. You were the life of the party, dude! Everyone loved you. Even those poor young girls you flashed and that group of five-year olds you made cry. They thought you were hilarious.

Thanks random drunk kid. You make bloggin’ easy!

Ed note: Er, I'd chalk this one up to another OD of GHB, ol' chap.

By A.J. Hayes

PHOENIX -- Norman Rockwell would hardly recognize today’s big league newbie.

The stereotypical hayseed wearing an ill-fitted suit and aw-shucks grin that Rockwell depicted in his “The Rookie” (1957), is much a thing of the past. If he really ever existed.

Today’s spring phenoms, more often than not have wallets larded with million dollar signing bonuses. They tool around in snazzy sports cars and idle away the hours plugged into their I-Pod thingies.

The kids today!

On first glance you might think Giants rookie infielder Travis Denker is just another pampered pup – especially when you hear that he inked his first shoe deal at an age when most kids are still trying to coordinate their Granimals.

But don’t jump to conclusions.

Yes, its true Denker did land his first professional sponsorship as a mere four year old - more on that later - but he’s also a bubble gum-snapping, run-out-every-ground-ball 22-year-old whirlwind that makes even the most jaded fans feel gooey inside.

“You can tell just by the way he stands at his position that Denker looks like a ball player. He could be Al Dark or Eddie Stanky,” gushed my 72-year-old friend Joel who’s seen every Giants club dating back to the mid-1940s. “He exudes a certain grittiness. He looks like he’s been in the majors for 15 seasons, not 15 minutes.”

The truth is the 5-foot-9, 193 pound Denker has never played a game in the big leagues yet, and in fact hasn’t played above Single-A ball. There’s no guarantee he will blossom into a big leaguer.

But the way Denker performed late last season for the San Jose Giants – helping the minor league club to the California League Championship - and the way he’s looked in major league camp this month, the scrappy Denker has optimistic San Francisco fans recalling the likes of Robby Thompson, Chris Speier and Dirty Al Gallagher.

“The pitchers are smarter and the game is much faster at the major league level,” said Denker. “But I feel I belong.”

Travis Denker

The Giants are in a rebuilding mode and are loading up on young talent. Other untested players who have looked good in camp include outfielders Clay Timpner and John Bowker and infielders Emmanuel Burriss and Brian Bocock.

Of all of them, the hard-nosed Denker appears closest to the majors.

Making the second baseman’s rise so much more enjoyable is the fact that the Giants have the arch-enemy Los Angles Dodgers to thank for him.

After going more than 20 years between trades, the century old rivals swapped players last August. The Giants sent veteran pinch-hitter Mark Sweeney to Los Angels in exchange for Denker.

Though he was battling some nagging muscle strains at the time, Denker batted a blistering .400 (10-for-25) over the Little Giants final regular season seven games. In seven post-season contests he batted .480, with 3 home runs and 7 RBI.

Denker could have easily mailed it in once joining the Giants organization or sat out for medical reasons, but he quickly assimilated to his new team and practically insisted on playing down the stretch.

“I wanted to be part of a championship club,” he said last week. “I knew I may never get another shot at something like that. I really wanted in.”

After leading all Dodgers minor leaguers in batting (.310), home runs (21) and RBI (68) in 2005, Denker struggled in 2006. But he was batting .294, with 10 homers and 57 RBI for Los Angeles’ Inland Empire club last summer when he was acquired by the Giants.

Despite growing up an hour from Dodger Stadium in Brea, Denker was not heart-broken by the deal to San Francisco.

“As a kid I was more an Angels fan, than a Dodgers fan,” he said. “And I’ve always loved the Giants colors.”

San Francisco orange and black does favor Denker. But it was another bruising color scheme – black and blue – that is most associated with the sport that led to Denker being sponsored by the Vans shoe company as a tyke.

“I was your typical California kid scooting all over on my skateboard, and next thing I knew I was in Florida on a skateboarding tour sponsored by Vans and Bactine – the bug bite stuff.”

Denker stuck with street surfing until scouts started showing up at his high school baseball games. Denker inked a deal with the Dodgers after batting a hearty .425 (34-for-80), with 11 home runs and 22 RBI as a senior at Brea High.

“I might jump on a board to go down to the corner store, but the competitive stuff is over,” Denker said. “It’s all about baseball now.”

Photojournalists Lisa Pickoff-White and Rhyen Coombs put together this nifty little vid for us of last weekend's 10th annual wild Brides of March downtown invasion:

By Justin Juul

You never know what kind of crazy shit your brain’s going to tell you to do when Saturn comes back into the picture and starts demanding attention. Some of us start thinking about babies and tract homes while others spin off in the opposite direction and become workaholics or barflys.

My friend, Jason Lewis of Lollyphile, did something even stranger. On the dawn of his 29th year, he suddenly decided to become a confectioner. He spent hours and days mixing flavors in his basement and self-promoting on the Internet until finally, success! His first run of Absinthe flavored lollipops was met with critical acclaim, eventually reaching full-blown awesomeness when the people over at Penthouse Magazine decided to run a review. A less ambitious man may have stopped there, but my friend is “very special” so he immediately started planning a slow takeover of the gourmet candy industry. He’s gonna be the next Willy Wonka. I can feel it.

I tried to get Lewis on the phone to discuss his outlook on candy, life, and world affairs, but he was too busy boiling lard or something. I did manage to squeeze this little e-interview out of him though. Enjoy.

SFBG: What’s your stance on candy from Japan? How can you ever hope to compete with brands like Pocky, Black Black, and Cubyrop?
My bacon lollipops are actually considered to be “sent from god” by a number of people. This wasn't my fault; a FedEx plane accidentally dropped a few cases on a small Pacific Island, and the natives of that island, upon experiencing their first meat-based sugar-high, started sacrificing various animals (note to PETA: I totally didn't sanction this) in an attempt to get their gods to ship more lollipops. Sadly, international shipping rates can't be paid for with any amount of boar's blood (believe me I've tried).

So, while Japan's candies have awesome names, brand recognition, and the loyalty of several billion people, I've got deity cred.

SFBG: What do you do when you’re not turning meat and controlled substances into candy?
Lewis: I reverse the process. Candy into meat and liquor. I transubstantiate stuff all the time.

"Bacon lollipops? Why not!"

Simply Unique really is.

I've had a fantastic 24 hours: mani-pedis with my best friend from L.A. at Simply Unique on 14th Street (fab!) followed by a delicious Senagalese dinner at Bissap Baobab and a giggly slumber party - all to celebrate her engagement and my upcoming 30th birthday (I know.) The only thing that would've been better is if we'd somehow also been able to make it to the Buffy Reunion in L.A. and the National Conference for the Popular Culture and American Culture Association here in the Bay. Joss Whedon for dessert, lectures on Eating Disorders in US Weekly and the history of the coolness of motorcycles for breakfast, with my BF sandwiched between? Even more awesomeness.

Buffy is the new blog.

Everyone's getting rich off the NCAAs -- except the players

By A.J. Hayes

Played, not paid

Last week, Boston Red Sox players staged what had to be the most ludicrous wildcat strike in the history of labor relations. The entire Bosox team(sters) threatened not to board a plane bound for Japan for a series of games vs. the Oakland A's, unless club management, or major league baseball, or anyone else but the players themselves, forked over some serious cash.

Painting themselves as championing of the little guy, the Boston players said the trip was off unless each of the team's coaches, trainers and clubhouse personnel received the same $40,000 bonus that each of the players was to pocket for enduring the hardship of an all-expenses paid, first-class jaunt to Japan.

And they say politicians are out of touch with the average American wage earner.

To drive home their point, the players refused to take their positions for an exhibition game against the Toronto Blue Jays until the matter was settled, making paying fans sit on their hands for 90 minutes at Ft. Myers, Florida.

The world champs finally decided to play ball when MLB and the club agreed to split the cost of paying the support staff. Considering that the bloated Red Sox staff contained nearly 30 coaches, trainers and others last season, that figure came in somewhere in excess of $1 million.

Meanwhile, most sports fans across the nation - even those who know the clubs are traveling to Japan - could hardly give a damn about a few early season baseball games in Tokyo. When Boston and Oakland are done, they'll still have 160 more games to go.

Most sports fans across the nation are glued to their televisions watching athletes pour out their hearts and sweat in another sport - and receive not a penny. In fact, the players will be lucky to come away with a free t-shirt. It'll probably be a 50/50 blend too.

In case you don't own a television or haven't picked up a newspaper in the past couple of weeks, we're were in the midst of the NCAA basketball tournament, aka March Madness, aka the Big Cash Cow in Tube socks.

Every one remotely tied to the NCAAs, from the universities to CBS to the sports bars and the zillions of amateur bettors toting their cherished "brackets" will be racking in the dough this month.

Everyone is getting rich except for the one making it all possible - the players.

We've invited fab local photog Darwin Bell to share some of his photos with us throughout the next month, and tell us what the heck he was thinking when he took them.

Study in Curves

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Darwin Bell: "This is probably my favorite building in San Francisco, located at First and Market. The curves and lines are just amazing and so fascinating to photograph. "

"You look more like a hardcore kid than a hipster."

In San Francisco? Doubt it. This is the land of science-teacher flats, floppy bangs and terrifyingly large sunglasses. The residue escaped to the East Bay years ago.

The infamous Boston Beatdown

Tragedy in Austin

XLimp WristX "I love hardcore boys"

We've invited fab local photog Darwin Bell to share some of his photos with us throughout the next month, and tell us what the heck he was thinking when he took them.

Fighting With Each Other

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Darwin Bell: "This was taken in The Mission and it is really just a picture of blockage sawhorse with a warning light on it in front of a dumpster. But the colors were so contrasting that it caught my eye -- all I had to do was compose it to make it look more graphic."

By A.J. Hayes

My name is Tony H. and I'm a fantasy baseball player.

There I said it.

Actually I haven't been an active participant in fantasy ball in more than a decade, but sometimes the urge to seek out "post-hype sleepers" and under-the-radar bargains in fantasy publications is so strong that I have to leave Barnes & Nobles immediately

Apparently, I will be a fantasy baseball player for life.

Evil?

It all started innocently enough back in 1993, when a co-worker introduced me to his in-house league. Figuring it was another way to put my absorption of all things baseball to use and earn some pocket cash at the same time, I showed up at the "draft" - held in a clandestine conference room on the Saturday morning before the start of the baseball season - with a rough idea of what I wanted my team to look like and three crisp twenties from the ATM.

I felt like a real big-league general manager at the draft, and the blueberry bagels weren't so bad either.

Being a Giants fan, my goal was to select as many San Francisco players as reasonably possible and then flesh out the rest of the squad with pre-inter-league play American Leaguers. That way, there would be no conflict of interest with my team and my team.

That first season I managed to land Barry Bonds to play the outfield and selected fellow -Giants Robby Thompson and Royce Clayton as my keystone combo. The rest of the squad was filled out with the likes of Joe Carter, Mo Vaughn, Lance Johnson and Paul O'Neill. I made one or two exceptions to my rule, selecting National League players such as catcher Joe Oliver, outfielder Bernard Gilkey and a couple of senior circuit pitchers including a youngish Curt Schilling and Steve Avery of the Braves.

When the season began I became ensconced in baseball like never before - raising in the early - pre-internet -- hours to scour the morning boxes and tabulate "my guys" total bases, their RBI output and stolen bases.

It made going to work a bit more fun, especially when I would pass one of my fellow fantasy players in the hall after Chuck Finley threw one of his league leading 13 complete games that season - that's a lot of extra points - or Tom Henke racked up another save.

But by mid-season, the fun turned into serious business. I blew a gasket when Felix Jose failed to live up to the hype with another 0-for-5 game and when Ben McDonald hit the skids after I inserted him back into my starting lineup.

The real life Giants meanwhile were having an amazing campaign in '93.