Welcome to Football Friday, a baseball column by Connor. Each week I will dive into the previous seven days of baseball news, shout my opinion into the void, discuss some things about the Colorado Rockies, and generally just be a nuisance.

The San Francisco Giants open the NLDS tonight against the Chicago Cubs. The Giants are playing in this game because on Wednesday they defeated the New York Mets 3-0 with another dazzling Madison Bumgarner performance and a home run from someone named Conor. This Conor person may or may not have been a member of the crowd for the first eight innings, I’m not sure, but the fact is once again the San Francisco Giants looked absolutely beaten only to have someone that may be the team trainer step up and get a clutch hit for them.

The San Francisco Giants are the worst thing to ever happen to me.

I know that might sound privileged, like “Oh, Connor hasn’t gone through much if a baseball team from the Bay Area is the worst thing to happen to him.” You’re probably right. But I don’t care. This team is the bane of my existence, and I wish for nothing but emotional destruction for all those associated with the San Francisco Giants. I pray for their elimination every night; I long for the day they get banned forever.

It’s just so predictable now, that’s the worst part. We know they’re going to kill us, we know that some dude who may have won a contest to pretend to be a Giant is going to get a major hit in a playoff game. We stare at that roster and we just know: the San Francisco Giants are going to win this playoff series.

And now they have the Cubs, the 102 win youthful fun guys from Chicago. This is like watching a teenager with big dreams of making it in the movies move to LA without any job prospects. We know what’s going to happen: this kid is coming back covered in tears and edamame shells from the Sushi restaurant he bused for three nights a week. We know that the Giants are going to look the Cubs in the face and beat them in four games. So it has been, so it will always be.

The Giants are an unholy clutch monster forged in the fires of Mount Doom, constructed to lay waste to the hopes and dreams of men. They stand at the top of the hill we all attempt to climb and kick us back down to the bottom, laughing like an elementary school bully. The Giants are snow during finals week, they’re your favorite song skipping at the worst moment, they’re your girlfriend’s parents coming downstairs right as you were about to get to second base.

The San Francisco Giants are an interruption in my love of baseball, they’re a reminder that sports are pain and those you hate most will benefit greatest.

It doesn’t matter how many runs they’re down or what game it seems to be, the San Francisco Giants are my October nemesis and they always will be.

May they suffer eternal losses from now until the end of time, amen.

Even the very makeup of the roster angers me. Not just Fun Police Deputy Madison Bumgarner, but Illegal Car Park Manager Hunter Pence and “Guy Who Definitely Stole a Cup At This Party” Angel Pagan. They’re all agents of my discontent, they live to destroy my very nature.

Then, there’s Buster Posey.

Screw this guy forever.

This handsome sea monster of pain and suffering is everything I’ve come to despise. Just seeing his face raises my blood pressure, since he always seems to end up hitting just in time to ruin my life. Here’s a very common scenario:

Me: Oh, the Giants are losing, I’ll flip over to that game and check it out.

Buster Posey: Here’s a three-run home run to give us the win.

Me: What the crap.

The worst part, the absolute worst part of all of this? It’s that the Giants are just so damn good. They deserve this success, they’re built to win like this, they work their asses off to be here and they earn every inch. That’s the worst part: they’re not lucky or magical; they’re just so freaking good and I hate it with every fiber of my being.

I needed to get this off my chest, I can’t stand the San Francisco Giants. I hope they lose, I’m going to cheer against them until the day my heart stops and I become one with the Earth.

Forever and ever, amen.

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Some News

Hello!

We here at Football Friday, Inc. have loved your readership over the past eight or so months. For over 30 weeks, Football Friday has done its best to provide you with good takes, fun content, and zero owns. We think we have accomplished this to the best of our ability.

With this in mind, Football Friday has made the executive decision to become an in-season column from here on out. This means all winter we’ll be doing other things, other side projects.

So, this Football Friday will be the last one until March. Be on the lookout for other creative things that I’ll be doing all winter long. I’ll be experimenting with lots of ways to bring everyone the best and funniest Rockies content I can.

Football Friday 2.0 will be revamped, revitalized, and better than ever. Look for it in March.

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Has Connor Been Owned? (By someone other than Thomas Wilson)

Each week, our team of investigators and officials here at Connor, Inc., will look into whether Connor was the victim of an "own." For the uneducated, an own is often a comeback or put down that renders the person speechless and unable to turn the conversation around. It's also described as a "serve" or "savage." I'm a medical miracle in that at no point in my life have I been owned by anyone not named Thomas Wilson online or in real life.

Just kidding, it’s not coming back.

Owned.

Regards,

Connor