The power of the ring

Sorry, Giants fans. This disappointing season is all on me.

Back in April when I had to attend my grandfather's memorial, I also received a gift from my father. It was an authentic replica of the 2012 World Series ring handed out to all the players, coaches, and upper management following that miraculous playoff run.

My precious!

I loved it! I couldn't get enough of it! And not just because for one moment in my dull life I felt like a champion. I had my own (fake) bling!

It was also because that replica ring was a lucky ring.

Let me set the scene for you. It's April 29th. I'm sitting at my father's place, watching the Giants with him - as we do. Giants are locked up in a tight one with Arizona: 4-4 going into the 8th inning.

Now, I'm not a superstitious man. But when it comes to baseball, I'm a little-stitious (sorry, I know. Bad joke). I've had lucky objects before associated with the Giants: pukka shells, orange and black necklaces, rubber chicken, my pin hat (still wear that one to every game I attend). During the 2010 playoffs, I had a whole checklist I had to keep. I had my pregame playlist - a set of songs to amp myself up - and my outfit consisting of a Tim Lincecum wig and Brian Wilson-ish fake beard.

Sexy!

Feeling like we needed a little extra something to win this game, I run to my room and grab the World Series ring. Placing it upon my pinkie (it was just a bit too small for my ring finger and too big for my pinkie, so I had to make do) I wished the Giants would win this game.

Sure enough, Brandon Belt hits a soft dribbler up the middle scoring two runs, which the bullpen would preserve to win the game.

The next night, we have a similar story. Same two teams playing while dear old dad and myself watch on. Giants are losing 1-0 in the 9th when I go and get the ring again. Pablo Sandoval steps up to the plate with a man on, and unleashes a monstrous home run to win the game for the Giants. After that, my father kissed the ring on my finger.

We go to the next night now. Same story - Giants are losing by two runs in the 8th. I'm starting to sense a pattern by this point, so I grab the ring. Belt does it again, blasting a 3-run home run to take the lead. Dad kissed the ring again. They would add on two additional runs in the 9th and win 9-6.

I've realized by now that I am in possession of a lucky ring. In awe of its magical powers, I took it with me to the game on May 3rd against our arch rivals: the Los Angeles Dodgers. Hiding it in my pocket until the opportune moment (and to prevent thieving Dodger fans or jealous Giant fans from stealing it).

My friends accompanying me doubted my stories of the lucky ring, laughing right in my face. Nobody in the whole stadium, Giant and Dodger fans alike, were laughing by the 9th inning. It had been an excruciating game for both teams and firmly fixed at a 1-1 tie. But leading off the 9th for the Giants was last year's MVP, Buster Posey. With my lucky ring affixed to my pinkie, Buster sent the first pitch he saw from Ronald Belisario over the left field wall to win the game for the Giants.

It was no longer just my dad kissing the ring.

All in all, the Giants were 6-0 during my first week with the ring.

Sadly, after the memorial and after I returned home to Washington, my mind focused on other things. I started taking the ring out less and less, somewhat forgetting about it. And in turn, the Giants started losing more and more games. The ring no longer seemed important in the wake of the team's collapse.

With our official elimination from playoff contention this month, I realize that it is all my fault. I stopped wearing the ring, and as a result the Giants faltered.

My bad.

So I'm writing this to apologize to my fellow fans. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I got distracted by life, and then dismayed by the team's fall from grace. I realize now I could have done something to reverse this. I realize that I was given a heavy burden, one that I alone must carry. With great power comes great responsibility, and I couldn't handle that responsibility.

Which is why I make this pledge to you: next season I'm wearing that ring. Every time the Giants need a big inning or a clutch hit, I'm slipping that ring on my finger. And I can guarantee that next season will not end like this one. The future of our team rests with me and my lucky fake World Series ring.

Next year will be different. I promise.