It was the bottom of the eighth inning, and AT&T Park was rocking as if it was the world’s largest inflatable jumping playhouse. Two consecutive walks had loaded the bases in a tight game with two out, and the prospect of an insurance run so late in the game had the crowd in a frenzy. The Rangers went to their bullpen again, and the hapless reliever couldn’t find the strike zone. He missed for Ball One as the crowd improbably got even louder than the otherworldly level they had already achieved. Ball Two. Even louder. Ball Three. The volume rose again. Ball Four. It’s three to nothing now, and the crowd goes berserk. Next batter. Ball One. Louder. Ball Two. Louder still. Ball Three. Even louder. Ball Four, and the place explodes. The finish line was clearly in sight, but the Giants weren’t through yet. A barrage of hits yields five more runs, and the crowd became giddy, high-fiving groups of total strangers amid an embarrassment of riches.

The vibe had been steadily building steam since we departed the ferry below the center field lights and entered the stadium. Halloween seemed to have come a couple of days early, as all manner of costumes, fake beards and Giants regalia were in full flower. We made an unfortunate decision to get to our seats via the right field promenade, where standing-room-only ticket holders made it impossible to move in any direction, let alone forwards. But we made it to our seats, picking up some garlic fries and adult beverages and settled in for the first pitch. Despite forecasts of rain, the field was bathed in a brilliant orange late afternoon sunlight that slanted in underneath a layer of dark clouds, and the Blue Angels screamed overhead as a large flag in the shape of the continental U.S. was unfurled in center field. I had made a sign with the iconic Zig Zag man of rolling paper fame, wearing a Giants cap with the words “Fear the Beard” underneath…it turned out to be popular in our section, with maybe a dozen people borrowing it to take pictures of their friends holding it.

A steady buzz coursed through the crowd, which rose to wave rally flags on nearly every two-strike count Matt Cain managed against the Rangers. For five innings, a classic pitcher’s duel kept both teams from scoring, although the Rangers’ Kinsler missed a home run by an inch, as his bid hit off the top of the wall and bounced back towards Torres in center. It was an omen…the kind of unlikely bounce that signified that maybe this was going to be the Giants’ night. In the bottom of the fifth, Edgar Renteria blasted a home run into the runway below the left field foul pole. The crowd erupted as the Giants took a one-run lead halfway through, and the way Cain was pitching, one had the sense that it just might be enough. They scratched out another run in the seventh, perhaps inspired by the loudspeakers cranking out Journey as 40,000 people sang “When the Lights Go Down in the City” and the scoreboard interspersed shots of the Golden Gate Bridge with Steve Perry leading the sing-along.

Then came the blowout eighth inning, the Rangers went meekly in the top of the ninth and suddenly it was over. It seemed like it went by quickly, and the margin of victory assured that neither Romo nor Wilson (the Zig Zag bullpen) would be needed. (I was ready to run down as far as I could get to flash my sign in support.) We exited via Willie Mays Plaza in front of the park, where the palm trees were festively strung with orange lights and the postgame TV coverage was in session. We immersed ourselves in the throng of sign-wielding fans, awash in bright lights, and carried on for a few minutes as the party threatened to go far into the night. But we had a ferry to catch, and we celebrated our victory in the bar with a bunch of new friends, realizing that we are halfway to the promised land. The Orange and Black did the Bay Area proud.