Buster Posey

To the Editor:

Before 2010, I thought I might go to my grave without ever seeing my SF Giants win a World Series. Then came Buster.

In 1958, as a 15-year-old, my dad took me to Seals Stadium to see the new team in town. I watched Mays and the guys and immediately began a life-long love affair with the Orange & Black. They were building a juggernaut that culminated in the 1962 team with the two Willies, Cepeda, Marichal, and Gaylord Perry. But even that team, with these five future Hall of Famers, couldn't get past the Yankees. I sat listening to Armed Forces Radio in France late at night and was devastated when Bobby Richardson caught Mccovey's line drive.

Then came Buster. The quiet, workmanlike and unassuming young man behind the plate — he came with good credentials, but how could we know that this was the guy who would lead us to ultimate victory? Sure, he was joined by some very talented players like Bumgarner and Lincecum, but he didn't have a 1962 type team around him. The same goes for the 2012 and 2014 teams — very talented but not juggernauts and not expected to do as well as they did. These teams were built on a solid rock that was the hitting machine squatting behind the plate.

Statistics permeate baseball. They are important, but there are intangibles that can't be explained by statistics. And those intangibles are perhaps even more significant. Buster Posey's stats don't come close to those of Barry Bonds.

Posey leaves the game at the top (well, just short of the top this time), and I wish him well. I will leave this world content in large part thanks to this young man and what he and his teammates accomplished. Dick Chimenti

Twain Harte