ChatGPT

After the last decade we’re all familiar with the new world of political hardball.

Cross the Kingmaker? You’ve got a problem.

Seem disloyal? You know that election you’ve got coming up? It just got a lot harder.

You say your opponent isn’t a household name? That’s about to change.

We’re bringing the full force of a national superstar, a blunt-force political operation and a massive database of contacts, influencers and loyalists against you.

Good luck.

At this point we’re not surprised to see Donald Trump do that.

But we are when it is Nancy Pelosi.

Pelosi is big mad at State Sen. Scott Wiener, who is running for her seat in Congress. One that Pelosi held for 38 years. And she’s showing her displeasure by throwing full support to Wiener’s opponent, Connie Chan.

It’s not just that Pelosi is putting her thumb on the scale. It’s the size of her thumb.

Nationally, and especially in San Francisco, Pelosi is a political megastar. She caused a “meltdown” when she stood, pointed and confronted Trump in the cabinet in 2019. She tore his State of the Union speech in half in front of him on live national television.

She’s a national treasure and I assume it is just a matter of time before San Francisco decides which freeway, government building or park it will name after her.

So what’s she doing in this local squabble?

Because she’s not just endorsing Chan. It’s no exaggeration to say this is a full-on assault on Wiener, the long-time SF political animal.

She’s posting slams against Wiener on X. She assigned her veteran communications director Ian Krager to the Chan campaign. As no less an authority than Politico put it, Pelosi has:

“Unleashed her political machine . . . marshaling her vast political network ahead of the November election, she’s hosted multiple six-figure fundraisers for Chan, (and) lined up endorsements from Capitol Hill allies.”

Why so angry?

Well, it’s a funny story. A couple of them actually.

No one is really challenging the conventional wisdom that Wiener really annoyed Pelosi when he declared his candidacy before the Former Speaker of the House announced that she was retiring. It especially wasn’t a good look because Wiener promised to wait.

Even though almost everyone assumed Pelosi was leaving, Wiener’s announcement in October, 2025, had those in the Pelosi camp griping about Wiener’s “political opportunism . . . and raw ambition.”

An ambitious politician? Alert the media.

Pelosi did take a long time to announce, finally doing so in November, but it may have been due to potential reason number two — that Pelosi wanted to roll the seat over to her daughter, Christine.

Wiener’s entry, and his deep connections in the district from serving on the Board of Supervisors (2011-2016) and State Senate (2016 to the present) made Christine’s chances evaporate. She’s running instead for Wiener’s State Senate seat.

Everybody wants their kids to get ahead, but this IS an important political position. As a very smart SF pundit put it, in bright blue San Francisco, “Somebody could be in this seat for 20 years.”

Christine Pelosi, whose political experience might be best described as “interested observer,” wouldn’t seem to have the receipts for the job.

Chan isn’t much more experienced. She’s a former legislative aide who was elected supervisor twice, beginning in 2020. Even her campaign website is long on her inspirational story as an immigrant from Hong Kong and short on political experience.

And that was pretty much how voters saw it. In the primary, Wiener got 43 percent of the vote and Chan only 30.

But the Pelosi factor has narrowed the race. Now it is more like five points.

And to the chagrin of Wiener supporters (I refuse to call them Wiener Dawgs, even though it is right there) his campaign has stepped on a few rakes.

The big one is the ChatGPT fuss, where Wiener’s brain trust released ConninChan.ai. It was a chatbot — “clearly a parody” Wiener has said — that pretended to vocalize Chan’s opinions.

The joke was that whatever you asked it, the chatbot said no. It was a play on what is actually a good issue for Wiener. Chan has voted against some Wiener-backed initiatives, including affordable house legislation, which is popular.

You can picture the thinking in Camp Wiener. Humm, AI is hot and trendy, Chan is always saying no. We’ll get a message across and look cool.

You’ll be surprised to hear that’s not how the Chan/Pelosi folks saw it. Pelosi herself took to X to call it “a gross misuse of AI” and a disturbing willingness to erase women’s agency.”

Communications director Krager accused Wiener’s campaign of “mocking an immigrant woman of color.”

That seems a stretch.

Also, Wiener said that Chan operatives were getting on the Chatbot and asking “malicious” questions about her race, her accent and ethnicity in the hope of getting a salacious answer they could use. (The chatbot only said no.)

So let’s get off our moral high horse shall we? It’s politics.

Wiener removed the chatbot and apologized. But it was a misstep, mostly because it takes away from a legitimate talking point — Chan’s thin resume.

Anyhow, we have a ways to go to the November election, but I hope we can reach a simple truth here.

Very sorry to hear that Nancy Pelosi is mad. But Scott Wiener is, by any possible measure, the best candidate.

He is, everyone admits, an absolutely relentless legislative machine. The joke in the senate in Sacramento was that they suffered from “Wiener fatigue,” because he is constantly coming up with new legislation.

His commitment to affordable house is absolutely key to his San Francisco constituents. He’s a dependable liberal democrat, an outspoken and fearless critic of Trump and someone with over a decade of political experience.

He would be an excellent representative for San Francisco and the country.

Again, we yield to no one in our admiration for the career and achievements of Nancy Pelosi.

But this looks petty.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads and Twitter: @cwnevius

When Mike Krukow left the pitcher’s mound and became a broadcaster for the Giants, one smart ass (OK, it was me) wrote that he sounded like he was still wearing his uniform.

And because I was a smart ass, I added that the uniform included pom-poms and a little pleated skirt.

A cheerleader.

Which is fine. You get it. Guys finish their playing days and go to the broadcast booth. They understand the assignment. They’re the home team announcer. Missed ground balls just took a bad hop. Pitchers that give up three-run homers got a bad break. Umpires miss calls that coulda gone the Giants’ way.

You’ve heard them. Right here in the Bay Area.

My guess is that there wasn’t a conscious decision by Krukow to change. It happened, I bet, because he’s an honest intelligent guy and it seemed silly to pretend not to be honest and straight with us.

For starters he took us inside the game.

I learned more about professional baseball pitching from listening to Krukow than for 20 years in interviews in MLB dugouts. He took us inside the mind of the pitcher.

And every time he said the hitter was “Set up for a slider away,” and we watched the batter flail helplessly at the next pitch, a breaking ball down and so far outside you wonder why he would ever swing at that, we had a private moment. And we had a smile when he told us the guy was going back to the dugout with nothing more than “What the little bird left on the rock.”

But then, gradually again, Krukow became the conscience of the franchise. He’d call out the bonehead plays, the lack of hustle. When something happened in the night game you wanted to hear what Kruk was going to say on his regular KNBR morning appearance.

You might be surprised how many professional sports pundits actively seek out Krukow when they want something explained or clarified. Sports columnists, beat writers, electronic media. I know I did.

As we have learned, speaking your mind is tricky. It is very easy to put your foot in it. And you have to remember that you are still the home team representative. Sports teams will tell you they are all for candor and bracing opinions.

But in their heart of hearts what they really want is lots of credit for good things and a little cheerful gloss on the bad.

And that’s where Krukow — and let’s be sure to credit partner Duane Kuiper too — took it to the next level. He’s called out the Giants, and Major League Baseball and frankly, culture.

And he managed to do it in a way that was decisive, definitive and important. At a time when he easily could have stayed silent, or changed the subject, he’s stepped up.

We need to go no further than this year’s Pride Night debacle. It’s been discussed to death, but to review, three pitchers wrote Bible verses on their baseball caps to protest the longtime Giants event. A fourth wore his regular Giants’ cap but made a point to say he didn’t support “it,” apparently meaning the celebration of inclusion for LBGT members.

It was epically mishandled and you had to wonder what Krukow, who has a gay son, would say.

And he let the pitchers have it.

“I think when you’re a player and you come into this environment, it’s your responsibility to know just how sensitive this city is in regards to that cultural freedom and religious freedom, and just the way that you live your life,” Krukow said on KNBR.

“And I think they were in for a rude awakening with the response, and it wasn’t just from the gay community; it was from the Northern California community that supports the gay community.”

From this viewpoint that is just about perfect.

While the Giants franchise was still fumbling around trying to find an off-ramp as consternation and ticket-cancellations rose — Giants president Buster Posey refused to answer questions about the pride controversy in an arranged interview — Krukow nailed it.

And by the way, did it without making matters worse or insulting anyone for their views.

That is how it is done.

But back in 2014, during the season, there were some disturbing rumors. Krukow was having trouble getting around. He was taking a golf cart to the ballpark.

We shrugged it off. The guy is 6-5, 200+ pounds, pitched 14 seasons in the Big Leagues. He’s fine.

One day I got a tip from an insider. It’s serious, he said. This isn’t something you take lightly.

I went to the sports editor of the Chronicle. I said I was writing a city politics column at this point and wasn’t covering sports any more, but he oughta have somebody look into this. See what’s wrong with Kruk.

And he did what I used to do when somebody gave a random tip. He said, oh yeah, great, thanks a lot. We will totally check that out.

And nothing happened.

So I texted Krukow. And I said in so many words, this story of your illness is getting out. And my advice would be to find a way to tell your own story, in your own way, rather than let it leak out in bits and pieces.

And he texted back to ask, what had I heard about what was bothering him?

I said I wasn’t sure what it was, but I was told it was a degenerative muscle disease that would only get worse.

The phone rang minutes later.

I’ve always been grateful that he gave me that story first. But it is one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever written.

As always, he was perfectly candid. His biggest fear, he said, was falling.

“There is nothing more humiliating than falling in front of people,” he said. “The biggest, most stressful thing is thinking about being on the field and falling in front of 40,000 people.”

Then 62 years old, he revealed that he was suffering from a degenerative muscle disease called inclusion-body myositis. IBM causes progressive weakness in the muscles of the wrist and fingers, the front of the thigh, and the muscles that lift the front of the foot. There's no cure and no solid theory for what causes it.

As promised when he was diagnosed, the condition only became worse. The slightest nudge could send him sprawling. Even a slight downslope “is Mount Everest” he said.

He cut back on his travel to away games. Then quit going altogether.

"You are talking about a guy who used to run the steps at every major-league ballpark," Kuiper said at the time. "Now he can't even go up steps.”

The disease wouldn’t even spare him simple pleasures. One thing I didn’t know about him was that he was a gifted musician.

"I play guitar, mandolin, banjo, ukulele," he said. "I can play anything with strings. I'm worried that I am going to lose that."

He did.

He went to a walking stick. Then did broadcasts remotely with a video monitor.

And I defy anyone to say he’s lost even half a step.

He’s as sharp as ever, witty and pithy. His catchphrases, from “Grab some pine, meat,” to “gamer babes,” continue to be Bay Area standards. (Personally I’d rather he didn’t say the catcher is in a “squaaaaaaaat,” but that’s just me.)

He’s been so impressive, such an example, that after several years I felt like we ought to recognize it. A few years ago I decided to write a column celebrating the courage, inner strength and overall example for us all.

But my wife said, you can’t do it without asking him first. So I did.

And he said no. Didn’t want it.

“I think he just wants his life to be as normal as possible," Kuiper said at one point. "I can assure you that he doesn't want to be treated any different. If people stop him and say how sorry they are, he doesn't want that.”

Well tough luck. We’re doing this anyhow.

You know, baseball isn’t one of those sports where people gush with praise. A high five is about as giddy as they get.

But they have little phrases that mean a lot. Krukow uses one to end his KNBR morning interviews. It’s an acknowledgement of something done well.

And we offer it here. Because it has been an honor and privilege.

Atta-babe.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads and Twitter @cwnevius

I am trying to remember. Did anyone ask for my opinion on Michigan? I don’t think they did. But . . .

1. In our house we were kind of on the fence until Election Day and then Mary swung to Abdul El-Sayed. I was probably there a little earlier. As several said, Stevens’ videos were brutal and came across as old time status quo. Not sure about electability but we gotta do something.

2. Polls in Michigan were WAY off. Ten points or more for El-Sayed. So start the polls are broken debate again.

3. Stevens had massively more money. Starting to wonder if money matters that much. Kamala out-raised Trump by a lot. The result? So many Kamala TV commercials we were tired of them. As TV, particularly traditional network TV, becomes less relevant, other avenues are reaching the voters. Figuring that out will be the test.

4. Israel is a huge factor. Gaza/Iran war are hot button issues. And simply taking money from AIPAC is turning out to be a negative for many. Big change from Biden who literally said there should not be a hint of daylight between US and Israel.

5. Lots of talk about youth voting surge. I’m all for it, but I’ll believe it when I see it. I’m so old I go all the way back to when Gene McCarthy was going to ride the youth vote to the presidency. There’s always lots of talk but then they don’t show up. Different this time? Fingers crossed.

6. Not to be superficial, but Mike Rogers is a classic-looking, old time Republican guy who is not a great public speaker. El-Sayed is young, handsome and can talk the birds out of the trees. In the new world of “attention politics” that may matter.

7. The idea that someone named Abdul El-Sayed won a senate primary in Michigan should not be overlooked. That Trump is still mocking Obama as Barak Hussein Obama tells you he still thinks having a foreign-sounding name is a negative. It wasn’t here.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

ChatGPT

For starters, it’s a red flag that we’re asking this question — and a lot of people, media and otherwise, are asking.

The Giants are underperforming drastically, spending much of the season trailing first place in the NL West by double digits. This is a textbook time for a manager to take a seat on baseball’s most uncomfortable piece of furniture — the hot seat.

And that’s factoring in recent events, where the team raised the traditional white flag of surrender on the season, becoming sellers at the trade deadline. It certainly doesn’t help the vibe when you’re forced to deal Luis Arraez, a likely batting champ and clubhouse/fan favorite.

(How popular was he? Former Giant turned broadcaster F. P. Santangelo asked on Twitter if a player has ever won the Willie Mac Award after being traded.)

The result, we predict here, will be increased scrutiny on Vitello, who has not impressed. Full disclosure: although I believe I have met and spoken with every Giants manager since Frank Robinson at Candlestick, I’ve never met Vitello.

But we are all reading his quotes and they’ve been a wild ride on the Tilt-o-whirl. That began right away with the weird first press conference where he went off an a tangent that seemed to be criticizing reporters for the getting the scoop that he was the new manager before he was ready to relay it.

But it isn’t just the losing record. If you’re firing a guy in the first year of a three-year contract you have to make a case.

So let us count the ways:

First, it is not getting better.

The original take was that things were a little rocky at the start, but once the former college coach took a spin around the league, he and the team would settle in.

Nope.

They lost the first three games out of the gate and haven’t seen .500 since. You’ll recall that Bob Melvin (acknowledgement of bias. I am a BoMel fan) was fired last year for finishing .500.

There are some grim stats here if you can bear to read them. As recently as July 26 they were 22.5 games off first place, the farthest back so far this year. And Sunday’s loss in San Diego put them 18 games under .500, the worst of the season.

And the loyal Giants fans are noticing and speaking up. During Tuesday’s stinker of an 8-2 loss to Milwaukee, NBC Sports Bay Area reported, “at one point in the early innings a small smattering of boos cascaded down from the upper levels.”

Put a pin in that quote, because we’re going to come back to it.

Second, members of the Giants orbit know Vitello is struggling and are trying to school him.

When Vitello was introduced last October, GM Buster Posey said he wanted the University of Tennessee hire to “ruffle some feathers,” adding that, “For me, there’s an argument to be made that we’re lacking that severely right now.”

Yeah, Vitello didn’t get off to a great start with that. Back on May 2, there was one of those crazy calls that only seem to happen in baseball. You can watch the video.

What happened was Heliot Ramos crushed a fly ball to right-center at Tropicana Field. It was a home run. Except it hit a catwalk and dropped down for an easy catch for the outfielder. Incredibly, it was ruled an out.

It was outrageous. And worse, the umpires examined video and UPHELD the call of no home run.

The Giants went ballistic. Or some of them did. Pitching coach Frank Anderson was ejected right away, followed by pitcher Adrian Houser.

Vitello? He waved his arms a bit but no feathers appeared ruffled. Maybe he was mentally composing a sternly-worded letter.

Lately it looks like he’s gotten the note, because he was up and out of the dugout last week when an umpire ruled that Willy Adames pushed a runner off the second base bag to tag him out.

That’s not how it looked, but the infuriating part was that the umpiring crew refused to get a second opinion from the video.

Vitello put up enough of a fuss to be tossed from the game, but Giant broadcaster and conscience of the franchise Mike Krukow thought his response was tepid at best.

"I thought he should have been out there at second base, you know, pulling the base out of the dirt and throwing it at Lance Barrett, the head umpire on that crew. I really do."

And that was followed by a story in The Athletic where Ron Washington, who managed in MLB for ten years, publically advised Vitello “to get your money’s worth,” when you are thrown out of a game. Make a scene, create a performance, because Washington said, “You’re going to have to pay the fine regardless.”

Their point is that they feel the umpires are “bullying” Vitello out of lack of respect. And he’s got to raise a ruckus to show he won’t stand for it.

Fine, but we’re over 100 games into the season. We’re waiting.

Third, there are genuine questions if he’s in over his head.

The Pride Night debacle could not have been handled any more poorly. Three pitchers decided to protest the Gay Pride-themed night by writing Bible verses on their caps. A fourth wore a standard Giants hat but went out of his way to say he didn’t agree with “it,” meaning Pride Night.

The result was that four — frankly marginal — players hijacked an event the Giants have been holding since 2021, undercutting team support for the LGBT community going back 30 years. It needlessly alienated loyal fans, not to mention a large part of the city of San Francisco.

Attempts by the team to quell the backlash backfired and the ill will persists to this day. Surely this could have been avoided. After the fact we learned that the players all could have worn their regular hat if they wanted.

What, you might wonder, did the team manager do?

Well, he said afterward, “I didn’t have any idea that anyone was going to write on their hat.”

You know, in a world where the president of the United States overturns a red card in the World Cup, these kinds of political/sport incidents are going to come up. And if you’re in charge you should know what’s going on and be ready and able to respond.

It’s a tough job. But that’s the job.

Fourth, there are legitimate baseball questions.

I had a conversation recently with a guy who is friends with a director of scouting for a Major League team. The scout said there’s a reason why teams sign so many pitchers out of high school.

Because, he said, college coaches are notorious for over-using and burning out their pitchers. They figure, I’ve only got this guy for a couple of years, so I’m going to get everything I can out of him.

Early in the year beat reporters were noticing that when a pitcher was struggling, Vitello’s staff (Anderson, the pitching coach was also at Tennessee) was slow to get someone up in the bullpen to relieve him.

But the really insightful call-out came from NBC Sports Bay Area analyst and former pitcher Shawn Estes.

A month ago, when reliever Keaton Winn relieved Logan Webb in the ninth and gave up three runs to turn the game into a 4-3 loss, Estes went on an epic post-game rant.

Winn, he said, doesn’t deserve the blame. This was his third straight appearance and fourth in the previous five games. He had pitched 24 hours earlier in Chicago and then was tossed back into the fire.

“This guy’s arm is tired,” Estes said. “His arm was beat. This game was lost when the inning started, based on the way it was managed, and I hate to say that.”

Five days later Winn went on the disabled list with elbow pain.

So, lesson learned? Nope.

The Athletic’s excellent Andrew Baggarly has been on this from the start, noting how Vitello left struggling pitchers on the mound and failed to get relief pitchers up and throwing in time.

And then, a week ago, in a 16-3 blowout win by the Giants at home, Baggarly points out that the Brewers, aware that the game was clearly over, had their first baseman lob in pitches to finish off the game. And then, well, lets let Baggs cook:

The Giants had several position player candidates who could’ve done the same in the top of the ninth. Instead, they brought in right-hander Keaton Winn.

The same Keaton Winn who had thrown the previous night. The same Keaton Winn who landed on the injured list earlier in the year when his elbow flared up due to overuse. It’s not as if the Giants had a travel day coming up, either. They were beginning a series in San Diego the following night. Using Winn to finish a 13-run game ensured that he wouldn’t be available the following day.

There’s more, and I’d encourage you to read the full story here. Don’t miss the part where Houser, in the bullpen, saw that the starter was struggling and “had taken his own initiative to start getting ready.”

The Giants don’t lead the league in injured pitchers — I checked, they’re about in the middle of the pack. But the use of the staff should be considered.

Fifth, somethin’ ain’t right about this team.

It’s always hard to say how much a manager affects a team. Is he fiery? Or cerebral? Sneaky smart? Analytics based?

But the skipper’s influence shows in the way teams play. This group just looks sloppy. They have forgotten how many outs there are. They’ve failed to cover second base. They’ve been picked off.

Is that the manager? You tell me. But we do know that good teams don’t do that.

Sixth — and this is where the nitty meets the gritty — attendance is key.

Until COVID I don’t think any of us realized how important ticket sales are to Major League teams. Tickets are a steady, reliable source of income, kind of like what classified ads used to be to newspapers.

And you saw what happened to newspapers when they lost that steady, reliable income stream.

The Giants are deeply devoted to getting folks in those seats, even if it costs them. As SF Gate points out, they’re offering cut-rate seats with benefits.

Bleacher seats are going for $8 and you can sit at swanky club level for the low, low price of $20. And if you’d like a kicker, here’s a $19 ticket that includes a beer.

It’s important because of the revenue, but also for the brand, The Giants are now the Bay Area’s only MLB team and want to showcase their very cool ballpark with full houses.

The loyal fans have held up pretty well so far. The team may still draw three million fans.

But those boos are ominous. It’s not just this year. It won’t be long before the team is pitching you to buy season tickets for next year.

Do fans want to see more of the same next season? Doesn’t Posey, and the ownership, have to show that they recognize they have to make a change?

It looks like pulling Vitello out of the college game was a bigger gamble that we thought. Fine, but if that’s true what’s the upside of leaving him in the job for another year, or the rest of the season?

Seventh, up until recently there was a problem with replacing Vitello.

Who would take over? Can you imagine what a mess it would be to conduct a search of Major League Baseball for a new manager? Doing that during the season would be chaos.

But about a month ago the Giants hired popular, experienced Gary Pettis to be third base coach.

Pettis is pretty much ideal. He was born and raised in the Bay Area, coached in the Big Leagues for 22 seasons and worked under both Dusty Baker and Washington when they were managers. In addition, Pettis played 11 seasons and won five gold gloves.

There’s also Washington, the veteran defensive guru and former manager.

Respect would not be a problem for either of them.

Is it a big move? Without a question. It’s just that making bold moves is great. But sometimes to you have to un-make bold moves.

There’s that old quote from North Dallas Forty about professional sports and a player’s lament to management: “Every time I say it’s game, you say it’s a business. Every time I say it is a business, you say it’s a game.”

Let’s settle that right now.

Ask Arraez. It’s a business. A cold-hearted, ruthless business.

The Giants need to act like it.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads and Twitter: @cwnevius

I am endlessly entertained by the Progressive insurance commercials. They’re legit funny.

If you’ve watched 30 minutes of TV you’ve seen them. The premise is that as we age we gradually turn into our parents. In the commercials there is usually a group of 50-somethings wearing the head-to-toe equivalent of dad jeans.

They’ve engaged the services of Dr. Rick, who is a “Parenta-life Coach,” to remind them when they are crossing the “becoming” line.

So in one sketch the group is at a street fair and one of them says they’d “better put together a plan of how to attack this.”

“We’re at a farmer’s market,” Dr. Rick deadpans. “No one is attacking anything.”

When the campaign started, years ago, it was more cranky, “Hey, shut the window. Are we trying to heat the whole outdoors?” kinda stuff.

But it has obviously been popular and now that we know the characters, it’s become a little more pointed.

Now the laugh is that the “becoming” subjects are so eye-rollingly clueless that you have to laugh. And of course, Dr. Rick’s efforts are resolutely unsuccessful.

So (see above) Keith and Dr. Rick are at the deli when they spot LL Cool J.

“Now, Dr. Rick begins, “let’s imagine that LL Cool J has a bubble around . . .

“Hi I’m Keith,” our mid-parent blurts, rushing over to force an awkward handshake.

Seriously funny. You can see why this advertising arc has persisted. (Although not sure what it has to do with insurance.)

Full marks.

Hilarious.

Except . . .

I’m just going to speak for myself here, but I’ll bet others know the feeling.

I am quietly in mortal terror that’s me. That I’m the one rolling out ear-bending stories and letting recent cultural references and changes sail over my head.

I recently heard an interview where a guy, to make fun of someone scoffed, “He’s still using hashtags.”

What? We aren’t using hashtags any more?

Where’s Dr. Rick when I need him?

All of which is a wind up to what I hope is a serious point.

I laugh at those ads, but they also make me more wary of reaching out, speaking to people and initiating contact.

We’re in a dog-walking neighborhood and running into neighbors on a walk is pretty much a given. And I am very conscious, especially if they are several years younger, that I hope I am not coming across as the neighborhood windbag. Or that I make some kind of dumb gaffe about TikTok or something.

Because I don’t want to play that part in Dr. Rick’s ad.

You can see where this is headed. It’s all over the news.

Seniors are experiencing epic bouts of loneliness.

There are loads of studies showing this. This one, located at random by Googling, is from the University of Michigan. It found that one in three seniors, aged 50-80, feel lonely and often isolated.

And it’s probably not a mystery. If you work in an office or at a job you interact with dozens of people all the time. Maybe you had kids in school and met other parents.

But when you’re not working, the frictionless interactions are less common. There are long stretches of empty, unplanned time. You don’t just bump into people, you need to make an effort.

Of course the concern is, what if we do that and we’re intruding? What would Dr. Rick say?

And that’s why I am recommending a book.

It’s The Correspondent, and if you haven’t read it you probably know someone who has. It’s a runaway best seller.

It’s a short novel, entirely composed of letters, mostly written by a prickly, proper older woman who values the power of the written word. She reaches out to all kinds of people. Some of them are from her life, and some, like renown novelist (and personal fav) Ann Patchett, are famous.

It’s entertaining, and our correspondent makes a case for good stationary and a nice pen. But the real point she’s making is the reaching out. Of taking the first step. Of initiating contact.

So, in my own modest way, I’ve been trying it.

I joined a pickleball group. And I’ll be honest, there were a serious first-day-of-school vibe when I walked up to a group of strangers at the courts.

But it’s been great. The regulars are outgoing and friendly, with a casual group feel. The game is easy and engaging enough to hold your interest but there’s still space for idle chat. (Picklers say two thumbs up for The Odyssey BTW.) It’s fun.

I checked in with an old friend who now lives in the midwest. Wrote to someone I went to school with from fourth grade through college. Texted a sometime golf partner who lived in our building in San Francisco.

And it’s been surprisingly pleasant.

Let’s be honest. We’re not saving the world here. There’s a lot more talk about what happened than what’s happening. We’re pretty careful with talking politics.

But it is nice to have some casual conversation.

I’ve cast a fairly wide net and frankly, some people aren’t interested. Which is fine. Got a reply, usually with a “good to hear from you again,” and that may be it.

But that’s also the point — for all of us. We existed for years in polite society. We can read a room. We haven’t gone tone deaf. If we are overdoing it, we’ll know.

And that’s important because . . .

I do talk too much.

I realized it when I was playing golf with Phil and Hubert who have allowed me to join them for their regular weekly rounds. I was standing over a putt and I caught myself thinking about an interesting news story I was going to tell them about, rather than how hard to hit the putt.

So yeah, there are times when I have to remind myself to put a cork in it.

Which I do. I have access to a cork.

And so do you. So do all of us. And if you want to ask the waiter how busy the restaurant has been tonight (a personal violation, as I’ve been reminded) go ahead. He’s in the service industry. He can make conversation.

Anyhow, when I’m laughing at those commercials, it also makes me think of this.

And, there’s even a kicker.

One of our lunch friends was the first of our group to read The Correspondent. He was so taken with the book, and admonition to reach out, that he did.

He wrote a letter to the author, Virginia Evans.

And he got back a pre-printed postcard saying in so many words, “Since the book came out I’ve been so swamped with letters I can’t keep up. Sorry.”

So I guess it is working.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Twitter and Threads @cwnevius

WTF?

You’re chasing after LeBron James like he’s your prom date. We’re getting breathless updates about how the Dubs are definitely in the discussion. It might just happen, we’re told.

Why?

You know he’s 42 right?

You know the general consensus is that this will be his last year?

So it is entirely possible that you could spend next year hosting a farewell tour for King James. You think that’s what Warriors’ fans want?

Well, you say, he’s bringing numbers. You say he may be heading into his 24th NBA season, but he still averaged 20.9 pts, 6.1 rebounds and shot 31.7 from beyond three-point range.

Yep. All true. And those are all the lowest numbers for those stats since he joined the Lakers for the 2018-19 season.

He’s not trending up.

But first, let’s get this out of the way.

He DESERVES it.

I was actually a bit of a LeBron skeptic back in the day. Seemed like he was just running over guys. Also, he came across as very pleased with himself. The “Chosen One” tattoo across his back seemed a little on the nose.

But I was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. James is a pillar of the game. Seriously. A Mt. Rushmore candidate with the likes of Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson and the Warriors’ own Steph Curry. He’s not only got a refined all-around game (although still big and strong), he’s smart on the court.

And, he’s gotten much better at presenting his public image.

Also, not for nothing, there have been no big LeBron James scandals. Married since 2013.

Is he a good family man? Are you kidding? He even got his kid hired down at the plant.

So no LeBron hater here.

But this seems like such a sideways, borderline panic quest.

We get the idea. The premise is this:

The Warriors are not putting together a team. They’ve got their core, Steph and Draymond Green. They surround them with the Brandin Podziemski’s and Gui Santos’ of the world.

But they need one more thing . . . a big splash star.

Hello Jimmy Butler.

Butler was a risk with his two-year, $110 million contract. And he’s definitely had some issues. He came to Golden State from Miami, where things had gotten so ugly the team suspended him “for conduct detrimental to the team.”

But Butler worked out for the Dubs. At least until his knee surgery knocked him out for the final 44 games of last season and at least some of this one.

So that’s the formula. They think all they need is one big impact guy and then they start trying on championship rings.

They aren’t going to build a team. They are going to buy a team.

We just didn’t expect them to be shopping at the antique store.

We sighed when they signed 40-year-old Al Horford to a two-year contract, although he is already been declared out for any back-to-back games. And we nod along with those who remind us that Draymond is 36 and Steph is 38.

There was a little wince when they signed much-traveled (six teams in 10 years) Kristaps Porzingis to a two-year deal. Porzingis, who is frequently injured or ill, is 30.

And LeBron is older than any of them.

Let’s remember, James does not go quietly into that good night. The whole roadshow comes with him.

He is accorded royal treatment in the NBA and he expects nothing less. He will definitely have a public voice and will not hold back in expressing opinions.

He famously has treated coaching decisions as suggestions.

Interviewed by The Sporting Green in January, Lakers’ coach J.J. Redick confirmed James ignores him and runs his own plays.

“Sometimes he tells me to f-off, and he calls his own pitch, which is fine too. But to me, it really is [figuring out] what’s the best way to utilize him tonight based on the opponent, based on the coverage, and based on how he’s moving.”

So factor that in for coach Steve Kerr, who has made it clear he has firm opinions about how things should be done.

And speaking of suggestions, James always has lots of them. He’s orchestrated trades and nudged coaches aside. Way back in 2016 this ESPN story was speculating if James was a “coach killer.”

What we’re seeing now, with James’ agent Rich Paul holding press availabilities where he holds up a white board with the names of ten teams that “might” have a chance to sign James, is all part of the package.

James loves the spectacle of announcing where he is “taking my talents” next.

Oh also, you might have to hire his son Bronny, who appears to have improved all the way to mediocre.

Look, Warriors. You do you.

Go ahead and sign him. Who knows, by the time this is out, you may have already done so.

But you’re starting to look a little desperate.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads and Twitter: @cwnevius

If we’re being honest, there’s really no reason for sports, right?

They’re a pastime, a diversion, an amusement.

Thousands of years ago one Neanderthal looked at another and said, “Hey, race you to that tree.”

They raced. More races followed. Someone introduced a ball. Lines were drawn. Rules were set. Uniforms were donned. Spectators gathered to watch.

And somehow that gets us to this week when it was announced that the five millionth fan had just come through the turnstiles at the 2026 World Cup. And the big games have barely started.

That’s not even counting TV. We do this every World Cup, but the international numbers are still staggering.

“The Super Bowl, which is fantastic, has what, 120-130 million viewers? The World Cup has six billion," FIFA president Gianni Infantino said in an interview with FOX Sports in April. "A World Cup is 104 Super Bowls in one month."

So, OK, just an amusement, but a big amusement.

And as we have seen, most of these fans are not here for the grace and beauty of world class athletes. This is about country and pride.

We say the World Cup is like the Olympic Games. And it is because it is international. But these are teams, picked to represent — and well, defend — your country.

It’s not just serious, it’s emotional.

When impeccably-coiffed Harry Kane finally nodded in a score in a very tense, OMG all-could-be-lost knockout England game with Congo, English announcer Darren Fletcher sounded almost undone.

“England’s savior!” he cried.

And if it goes the other way . . .

When the Netherlands failed to reach the round of 16, it was an historic flop.

Ronald Koeman, the Dutch coach resigned.

Immediately.

Then there is Hong Myung-bo, the coach of South Korea, after his team crashed out in a dismal loss to South Africa.

Myung-bo knew angry fans might be waiting for him when he arrived back home, so he scheduled his flight to land in Korea at 4 a.m.

Nope.

Dozens of angry South Korean protesters met the plane, banged on drums and chanted, “Hong must go.”

He resigned, but not before Lee Jae Myung, the president of South Korea, called for a government investigation.

OK, but still. . . is there really an impact? I mean Belgium just beat Senegal. Did that have any effect on your everyday life?

They’re still just games, right?

Well yes, but don’t discount that country connection.

When Germany also faced an extremely disappointing early exit, a German member of the European Parliament named Marie-Agnes Strack-Zimmermann wrote on X:

“This national team plays the way this federal government governs: big on ambition, short on resolve. Everyone struggles on their own, no one takes responsibility, and when luck finally does appear, the goal doesn’t count.”

As German profession Alexander Strassner told Politico: “There is always a link between sports and politics.”

The connection is clearer and more widely believed than you might think.

Politico, which wrote an excellent politics/sport summary last week, said that a pollster for IPSOS recommended that if England were to win the World Cup, potential incoming prime minister, Andy Burnham should immediately call a snap election “to ride a tide of national euphoria.”

It’s been done before. (Politico again) Harold Wilson supporters felt a big reason he won election for prime minister in 1966 was that England won the World Cup.

So when the Cup rolled around four years later, Wilson scheduled another election at the same time, hoping to catch the soccer wave.

Alas, the Three Lions flopped against West Germany and were out. So was Wilson.

England hasn’t won a Cup since.

Also, we would be remiss not to turn the camera around the other way and look at what the teams/fans/countries have brought to the Cup.

You’ve probably seen the scenes of the hilariously social Scottish fans, who took over Boston and drank it dry.

But even better are little stories that have come out of middle-American cities, like Chattanooga. It is is embracing the Spanish team, after it made the city their home base for the Cup.

The fans love it. Hundreds of them turned out, waving Spanish flags, to welcome the La Roja at the airport. Now they are learning to recognize the players and follow them on social media.

But it works both way. Teams had their choice of cities and the Spanish team picked Chattanooga (pop. under 200,000) for its laid back feel. It has succeeded beyond their expectations.

Lamine Yamal, the 18-year-old, international superstar being touted as the “next Messi,” was so comfortable that he took a trip to the Fort Oglethorpe Walmart. For a guy with 44 million Instagram followers and who travels with a bodyguard in Europe, it was mind-bending.

He even posted a picture.

The Norwegians are in Greensboro, N.C., where fans are doing the now-famous “Viking row” chant. (above) And so is everyone else. There’s even a clip of Norwegian parliament taking a break to row and chant.

Egypt picked Spokane, Washington.

And of course everyone is telling the story of the Algerians in Lawrence, Kansas, the smallest host city of the Cup. Lawrence, pop. 95,000, was thrilled and surprised that Algeria picked them. They have gone all out.

Storefronts sport Algerian flags, residents wear green and white T-shirts and they’ve learned to shout, “Viva l’Algérie!”

A local bar has created an alcohol free section so Algerian fans can feel comfortable at a watch party. The University of Kansas band even learned the Algerian national anthem.

All of which is leading us up to these critical, hand-wringing knockout games approaching the final.

Little by little, teams get picked off and go home to their countries. They will be part of national history, for good or ill. Every team and country develops its own World Cup narrative.

England, sadly, has become known for fizzling out in the big moments, disappointing fans and a nation.

Fletcher, the English announcer, channeled those gloomy concerns. When things weren’t going well in the game with Congo. he couldn’t resist noting that, “England doesn’t always turn up,” and “it’s a very heavy shirt.”

There’s a little of that here too. Like English fans, USA boosters are wildly enthusiastic when there is early success, but then succumb to gloom and despair when there is adversity.

It reminds me of a joke I stole from the internet, and I intend to continue to tell (despite requests to stop) until the World Cup is over. It goes:

Nine-year-old Timmy is in an English elementary school. One day the teacher says, “Let’s talk about our families. Timmy, what does your father do?”

“He works in a strip club,” Timmy says. “He wears a little bikini bottom, oils his body, dances on a stage and people throw money at him.”

The teacher is horrified. She sends everyone else to recess.

“I am so sorry, Timmy,” she said. “I had no idea that’s what your dad did.”

“Actually, that’s not what he does. He plays soccer for England, so I had to make up something less embarrassing.”

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads and Twitter: @cwnevius

San Jose Mercury News

So let’s check in with the this-will-all-blow-over-in-a-couple-of-days crowd.

How’s that working out folks?

When three Giants’ pitchers staged their Bible verse protest on Pride Night a little less than two weeks ago, it caught everyone flat-footed.

There was definitely surprise — it seemed like hardly anyone, including apparently clueless manager Tony Vitello, knew the pitchers were going to make a public statement.

Some people were — and still are — shocked and offended.

And some people said it was a blip on the season that would pass as soon as the next video of a leaping catch to swipe a home run is posted.

It appears those people included the Giants.

That was, and continues to be, a huge miscalculation.

The issue has been nationally debated on The View. Vice President J.D. Vance, always on the alert for a hot button to push, criticised the players, saying on X "Trump won we don't have to do this anymore."

The Department of Justice opened a civil rights investigation into the Giants. Major League Commissioner Rob Manfred stepped up manfully to say (and I’m paraphrasing here), “Hey, don’t look at me. The Giants are the ones who screwed this up.”

And the Giants? With over a week to noodle on this, and their “we understand” statement not holding up against the onslaught of dissatisfaction, they had to come up with something.

And they settled on a strategy that has never worked in the history of institutional missteps.

We don’t want to talk about it.

Send Buster Posey out there and have him say we don’t want to talk about it.

It was awful. Far more insightful writers than me have described it in cringy detail.

Not helpful.

Let’s do this in two parts. First, what the Giants should have done. And can maybe still do. (Although the current track record isn’t great.)

And two, what this really is, and why it matters.

About the Pride controversy: First, let’s take a step back. Pride Night isn’t a weekly event. It’s once a year. The next one presumably will be June 2027.

Who knows if those sanctimonious jerks will be on the roster then? They certainly won’t be missed. (There’s actually four in the group. Reliever Sam Hentges refused to wear the Pride hat and also said he did not approve of “it” presumably meaning Pride Night.)

In response, Buster, and the Giants should come out and say:

“This organization is 100 percent committed to Pride Night and Pride in San Francisco. We started Pride Night in 2021 and we’ve publicly supported the LBGTQ community all the way back to 2015.

“This year’s Pride Night wasn’t handled very well and we apologize. Players come and go, but the Giants’ commitment will not change. I promise you Pride Night will be back next year, better than ever.”

And just keep saying variations of that. No changes. Just that. Move on.

But there’s something bigger here. The part that started all this in the first place.

As we said, the Bible verse caper came out of nowhere. And at this point it seems like everyone involved has had the same reaction . . . .

Whoa, this is a bigger deal than I thought.

Beginning with, I’m going to guess, the Pride ad-verse pitchers.

Asked about becoming national news, they seemed a shocked.

“We felt there wasn’t going to be as much kickback on it,” said JT Brubaker “. … Players have done it in the past and it didn’t seem like it was blown up that big.”

“I expected some of those [negative] comments,” Ryan Walker said. “but did I expect it to get this big? Not necessarily.”

Congratulations. You’re starting to get the point.

This is a big deal. To a lot of people. It means something to them.

And when you say, as Brubaker did, “We’ve seen other baseball players do it, so we went along with it,” it sounds flip, like you didn’t put much thought into it.

There are millions of LGBTQ people in this country. (A 2023 UCLA Williams Institute study calculated that 13.9 million Americans identify as LGBT.)

The last Secretary of Transportation, Pete Buttigieg, is gay, and he’s married with two children. He’s probably going to run for president. There are several other openly gay politicians and media figures.

It is no longer unusual to have a gay co-worker, or neighbor. Gay characters are all over TV and film.

And yet, I can promise you that every one of those LGBTQ individuals faced some taunts, insults and likely some violence.

It wasn’t that long ago that people lived a secret life in the closet, afraid to let people know who they are.

Rick Welts, the former team president of the Warriors (now at Dallas) told me when his partner died of AIDS in 1977, he made himself come to work the next day so no one would suspect he had been in a relationship with a man.

Nineteen-seventy-seven was not that long ago. And you can bet it is very fresh in the memory of those who went through that and those who are still being bullied and intimidated right now.

So, a night — or a Pride Parade — is a big public statement. It says we recognize who you are and we’re fine with it.

That’s the real message for those Rainbow Warriors who wrote Bible verses on their caps and said they didn’t approve of “it” on Pride Night.

You don’t have to sign a pledge. You don’t have to attend a same sex wedding. You can hold your own (backward) opinions about gay people.

All you have to do is support the idea that people shouldn’t be insulted or attacked simply for who they are.

I’ve seen several comments by the Bible verse gang saying they were disappointed that people were calling them “bigots.”

Unfortunately, saying you “don’t approve” of someone simply because they belong to a group or race or nationality is the definition of a bigot. That IS what people think of you.

Writing on the cap may have seemed like a innocent gesture. But the consequences go far beyond the pitchers mound.

Now you’re in a national controversy. You may be booed in your home ballpark. You have lost untold numbers of Giants fans who were willing to cheer and support you because you were wearing the orange and black.

It is possible this could affect your career. It’s one thing to grandstand when you are an established star like Clayton Kershaw. Middle relievers and journeyman starters have a short shelf life in the Big Leagues.

And for the Giants, it’s another distraction in a season gone horribly wrong. The team is not only losing, they are hard to watch. They look unhappy, and worse inept.

Vitello isn’t inspiring confidence. I’ll say it again, this team is not that much different from last years, when Bob Melvin was the manager. It might even be a better roster with Luis Arraez a revelation at 2nd, Bryce Eldridge playing regularly and Casey Schmitt and Jung Hoo Lee having career years.

Last year’s team finished .500, but they were in the playoff hunt throughout the season. This year’s team couldn’t see the playoffs with a telescope.

There’s really only one major difference, Vitello for Melvin.

Managers make a difference and Vitello has used up his grace period. He rambles on in interviews, but says little. His substitutions are a mystery and after being called out by Shawn Estes for over-using Keaton Winn, Vitello had to explain why Winn had to go on the injured list with a sore arm.

The bizarre Rafael Devers incident over the weekend was another example of a team in disarray. Devers refused to come out the game for a pinch runner with the weird explanation that he thought Vitello was worried about his sore hamstring.

Whatever. Stuff like that doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Devers, a talented but sensitive guy, is clearly not happy. And the fact that he’s not producing and getting the blame for not carrying the team only makes it more fraught.

Meanwhile, Vitello gives long, rambling answers in interviews, but his moves are often equally hard to follow.

After upsetting Dever by taking him out of the game so the speedy Jonah Cox could (presumably) steal second base. But Cox DIDN’T steal and was the first out in a game-ending double play. Explain that.

And now we get word that Saturday night is bobblehead night. And guess whose head is being bobbled?

Rafael Devers.

It’s that kind of year.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Twitter and Threads: @cwnevius

Over the weekend we went to lunch with a friend. He’s 40-ish, gay, married and head of communications for a high-powered firm.

We asked if he’d heard about the Giants’ pitchers protest on Pride Night. Four of them, starter Landon Roupp and relievers JT Brubaker and Ryan Walker inked Bible verses on their Pride hats. Reliever Sam Hentges went a step further, refusing to wear the hat.

Our friend hadn’t heard. Not a sports fan. But when we told him, he was instantly engaged.

I kinda thought we’d spend some time shaking our heads at the bigoted jerks. Or maybe some moral outrage along the lines of “can you believe this happening in this day and age?”

Nope. He went right to his corporate lens.

“What a PR disaster!” he said immediately. “That cannot happen.”

Which really is the point and the problem here. There are several ways the Giants organization could have handled this. We’ll mention a few.

But what they could not do is nothing.

Which was the course of action they chose.

They essentially gave it a shrug and a whatayagonnado?

They issued a statement that said in part: “We understand that the choices by individual players have caused pain and anger to many in the LGBTQ+ community and we are sorry for that.”

Oh, possible pain and anger? In San Francisco? Ya think?

But don’t worry because then they added: “We remain grateful to our fans, partners, employees, players, and coaches who help make Pride Night a meaningful celebration.”

And that’s where we run into the first of a series of problems.

If the point of Pride Night is a show of unity and acceptance for LBGTQ people, it’s not really a “meaningful celebration” if some official members of the team go out of their way not to show unity and acceptance. Especially if they openly protest against those ideas.

Who said these four get to speak for the Giants? Or for the City?

And don’t tell me they are just speaking your minds. You guys are free to do that seven days a week and twice on Sunday. Go ahead. I’ll bet you’ve got some theories that would curl my hair.

But you’re not idly expressing some views. You are actively protesting a company sponsored event. The Giants asked you to wear a hat with a rainbow on it.

And you said, “Oh no, not a rainbow hat. That’s too much.”

See, it turns out the rainbow is doing a lot of extra work here. Because if you look up the verse they put on their hats, you get a reading that God sent (a rainbow) as “the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature.”

So see? It’s all about the rainbow.

Roupp, obviously knew he was going to be asked about this after the game and was ready.

He said the message was “God’s covenant and the promise that He makes to us. It’s something I believe in and I stand firm in that.”

You have to wonder how long this group — and it is a group — searched the Bible to find this perfect little mis-direction quote. Apparently the Dodgers’ Clayton Kershaw wrote it on his hat for last year’s Pride Night.

It’s clever because someone like Roupp can sound firm and resolute in defending “God’s covenant” without really explaining what that means.

He can even play the hey-don’t-get-me-wrong card:

“There’s no hate at all It’s just what I stand for . . . I believe in God.”

And we’re not supposed to notice that we just made a huge leap of logic there. Lots of people believe in God. Millions and millions. But there’s no requirement that if you believe you are required to disapprove of certain lifestyles.

The rainbow is just a handy standin. It was mentioned in Genesis, so apparently if any other people/organization/movement use it as a symbol, it is blasphemous.

C’mon. We all know that isn’t true.

Hentges came the closest to being honest. And unrepentant:

“It’s just something that I feel like I was forced to support when I don’t morally support it,” Hentges said. “There wasn’t hatred behind it. I think that’s kind of something that’s misinterpreted.”

Well, if it is not hatred you certainly went to a lot of trouble to make it a big deal. If you’d just put on the hat I doubt anyone would have asked a middle-inning relief pitcher what his opinion of Pride Day was. Or cared.

You made this a thing. Intentionally.

But let’s make this simple. We don’t have to debate rainbows or covenants. There’s an easy way to clear this up.

You know when Hentges says “I don’t morally support it?”

C’mon Sam. Speak up. Say it. What is IT?

Although you’ve made it perfectly clear, you just don’t want to come out and say it, do you? Because you know it would be unpopular. And out of step with the majority.

So let’s stop with the obscure Bible references. Come out and say it:

You dislike and disapprove of gay people. You think a gay lifestyle is aberrant. And you, and your fellow bigots in the clubhouse are trying to use religion to justify it.

At least that would be more honest. You wouldn’t have to twist yourself into a pretzel trying to explain how your personal freedom has been violated.

You’re perfectly free to express your out-of-touch opinions. Just don’t do it undermine a team/city/national event that promotes hope and joy just because you have an opinion.

And if I were the Giants, I would have made that clear to them. Team event. Team uniform. If you don’t like it, there are pressures that can be brought to bear. Not that you’ve helped your trade value by becoming New York Times news and dragging your team into it.

The Giants have a lot of problems now, not the least of which are on the field. This is the last thing the franchise needs. It wouldn’t be a complete surprise if, given the dismal season record on top of this tone-deaf pratfall, attendance might suffer.

So thanks a lot guys. Aside from announcing publicly that you are insensitive jerks, what do you think this accomplished?

Excluding people because of a Bible verse?

Nope.

It’s not God. It’s you.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Twitter and Threads: @cwnevius

As a rule, when I sit down to watch a major sports event — World Series, Super Bowl, NBA Finals — I start out as Switzerland.

Unless a local team is involved, or there’s some personal reason, I’m don’t care who wins. I’m just here for the spectacle.

And yet, inevitably, the specific gravity of one of the teams pulls me in.

I may like the way one of them plays. Or take a fancy to one or two of the best players. Or I may NOT like the way one them plays, or some of the players.

Either way, without meaning to, I develop a rooting interest and start pulling for one or another.

That hasn’t happened in this year’s NBA Finals.

San Antonio and New York have ended up swinging my support back and forth as the games — which have been terrific, close, frantic and dramatic — unfold. I like both teams.

Everyone says the Spurs are young. They are. And they are prone to moments of youthful excesses. But they are also playing sneaker-squeaking defense and making smart, savvy plays at the basket.

Take guard Stephon Castle. With his dramatic geyser of a hairdo, Castle can appear to be an unserious person to us older grumpy frumps.

He’s anything but. He’s impressed with flinty defense, runs the offense and has the poise of Broadway star. His clutch three-pointer at the end of Game Three was epic, and probably saved the game for the Spurs.

And then there is towering Victor Wembanyama who is . . . well more about him later.

The Knicks meanwhile, fit together like a Tetris puzzle. There are a collection of team-minded role players who know and play their parts perfectly.

Journeyman Josh Hart bounced around four franchises before finding a home with the Knicks as the kind of guy who doesn’t put up glittering stats, but makes key plays.

As some random fan named LeBron James said of Hart:

“It’s the Draymond Green role where you know he gets you 8 points but it’s 12 rebounds. It’s 7 assists. It’s diving for loose balls, some the stuff that don’t show up in the box scores.”

And everything in Knick-York revolves around Jalen Brunson, who runs the show, makes the improbable clutch buckets and channels the undeniable spirit of America’s biggest city.

Between Brunson and burly center Karl-Anthony Towns, the Knicks are making a run for their first NBA title in 53 years.

And the games have been just excellent. Games Two and Three were well-played stemwinders, with exhausting end-to-end sprints and last second heroics. The pace has been positively frantic.

The Warriors like to talk about how they still have the players to compete for the title. But from here it looks like if their 30-something roster got pulled into an up-and-down-the-court series like this they’d be looking for oxygen and a crash cart.

It’s been so good that all ABC had to do is point the cameras at the court and get out of the way.

So of course they aren’t doing that.

It is a simple fact that every reality TV show needs two things — drama and oversize personalities.

And what is a more perfect reality TV show than professional, championship sports? The drama, a quest for the ring, is built right in.

So all we need is to gin up the oversize personalities. And inevitably, and a little unfortunately I think, they’ve seized on 7-4 Wembanyama.

It makes sense. He’s definitely the standout (in every way) star. But it seems there’s also a sideshow quality to the Wemby coverage. He’s a freak. He’s unnatural. He’s an alien.

Wembanyama seems to be going along with the alien narrative, but it seems a bit demeaning. If anything, he’s gone out of his way to be a regular guy.

He’s famously started a book club, which is heavy on the fantasy fiction, and reads in both English and French, which reflects his country of origin.

He’s a thoughtful interview, has wide-ranging views and even spent two weeks at a Shaolin monastery in China.

But the coverage tends toward the punch line “He’s so tall that he . . .”

Look, former Warrior Manute Bol was extremely tall (7-6). Back in the 80s, Utah’s Mark Eaton was also really tall. (7-4).

And to be blunt, neither of those guys could any more do what Wembanyama is doing than they could flap their arms and fly into the rafters.

Wembanyama runs the floor, brings the ball up on a fast break, hits three-points, blocks shot after shot and makes acrobatic tips and lob dunks. He’s a phenomenal basketball player.

I’m not going to use the old wheeze about how he’d be a star even if he wasn’t this big. But to see someone of this size, able to do these things, deserves more than a funny nickname.

The funny thing is, Wemby doesn’t really have a game yet. He’s shooting threes, gets tips and lobs and putbacks. But he doesn’t have a go-to move.

Yet.

He will. He’s too athletic and smart for it not to happen. Stay tuned. He’s only 22.

On the other side of the floor may be the most unique player in sports — the New York sports star who is NOT completely over-hyped.

Let’s be clear. In this space we reject stereotypes and easy generalizations.

But c’mon.

New York fans define the term “front runner.”

Once they get down on a player they ride him/her like pet pony. They boo, they complain and they will not let up. More than one player/coach/general manager has found New York to be a miserable experience.

However . . .

If a player rises to the occasion, steps onto the big stage and carries the day, they swoon like sophomores at the sock hop. (Are there still sock hops? Probably not.)

Joe Namath, Reggie Jackson, Clyde Frazier, are Big Apple icons. Their mythology lives on like that Willis Reed shot in Game Seven of the 1970 NBA Playoffs, when he came in, despite a serious injury, and made a defining opening shot. Because if it happened in New York it is the most important thing ever.

Brunson, a second round draft choice of Dallas, signed in New York as a free agent and has been transformative. Think he’s the toast of the town? He’s on the cover of The New Yorker.

And in these Finals we can see he’s isn’t overrated. The ball comes back to him over and over. And as the hoop scouts like to say, “every time he touches it, something good happens.” Those clutch shots are no fluke. He’s willing them to a win.

Which brings us to Towns, who plays an important role — on the floor but also in the grand scheme of things.

Towns is a bully in the very best sense of that word. At this stage of play all the big men are throwing their bodies at each other. With Towns though they tend to bounce off.

In Game One he was confronted on the baseline by 6-6, 220-pound Keldon Johnson, who is consider a bit of an enforcer. Towns put the ball on the floor and took Johnson to the basket with the ease of a forklift maneuvering a beer keg.

Towns is important because he’s playing Wembanyama tough. Inevitably there are worries that Wemby is ruining basketball. He’s just too big, too talented.

Towns is making it clear. Wenbanyama still has to work for his points. It’s still basketball. And that’s a good thing.

The Towns conundrum is always fouls. He tends to get himself in foul trouble with the kind of why-why-why? reach-ins that don’t make good sense. It’s something to watch.

Hopefully, this series will be stretched out to more than five games. It’s too good to stop.

And will we make a pick for a rooting interest?

In our house we already have.

Years ago Mike Brown was an assistant coach for the Warriors and we were living in Mission Bay, down by the arena. One afternoon my wife Mary happened to bump into Brown in the vegetable aisle at Gus’s Market.

She said hello to him and they had a short, but very pleasant chat. From that day on, she’s on board with any team Mike Brown coaches.

Right now it is the Knicks.

Fine with me.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Twitter and Threads: @cwnevius

Understand, we are here to help. We come from a place of understanding and empathy.

However, there are times when harsh words must be spoken, even to those we care about deeply.

So let’s just come right out and say it.

Dear media:

You are in an abusive relationship with Donald Trump.

It’s quaint in its way, how you continue to play the familiar part. At this point even you must know it is just theater. But you show up, stand in front of him and ask serious, considered questions.

And then, you breathlessly report, he insults you. He calls you stupid. He lies to you, right to your face.

Uh. We know.

We’re seen it for years. I’m not sure who you think your audience is, but this doesn’t exactly qualify as a news scoop. Everybody knows.

Some people, apparently, think it is fine and would vote for him again. Some are more worried about gas prices. Some are so angry they stand on street corners with flags and signs and yell about it.

But everybody knows. And each has made his or her peace with Trump, one way or another.

So, when Kristen Welker handed over the Meet the Press megaphone to Trump this weekend the results were as predictable as the sunrise.

What did they/she expect? We have ample evidence that he behaves like an entitled blowhard in these kinds of interviews. He throws out fabrications and lies faster than anyone can correct them. (And then the host gets roasted for not correcting all of them.)

And he’s likely to pitch a fit, yell insults and make a scene.

All of that happened.

Was there really an idea that Welker was going to ask some penetrating questions that would stun Trump into confronting some real issues?

Nah. The day was lost when Trump managed to loop back to the “crooked” 2020 election fantasy.

Welker then had to play the “you have no evidence” card, which led to this enlightening exchange.

“They’re crooked just like you’re crooked, your press is crooked. And ‘Meet the Press’ is crooked,” Trump replied.

“To be fair, I’m not crooked,” Welker said. “But let’s continue.”

This is a view of a ball not being advanced. How many times have we seen Trump confronted with “no evidence?” And what difference has it made?

Surely, there’s no one who thinks that sideshow would pass for actual news.

Whoops. Wait. There is someone. Here’s Welker on Threads:

My interview with President Trump on Friday afternoon was unfortunately complicated by weather issues. In spite of those challenges, we still had a substantial conversation on issues from the Iran war to the economy to the so-called “anti-weaponization” fund. Tune in for the full interview on

Substantial conversation? Yeah, everyone was talking about those weather issues.

What this was was a chance for Welker to get a screenshot of herself interviewing the president.

And for Trump it was another chance to be on national television and take his id out for a spin. What a lovely ego trip. He goes on national television, insults both the host and the show and you know they’d have him back in a second.

Which naturally brings us to the White House Correspondents dinner. As you may have heard, it’s been rescheduled for July 24. The correspondents are wholeheartedly behind the redo. Here is their official statement, including that “a free press will not be intimidated into silence.”

Just to review, before the original dinner Trump warned that he intended to make some “rather nasty statements” to the media.

Which looked as if it had been averted when a crazy gunman shut down the first dinner.

But Trump was very eager to schedule it again, and the association apparently figured, sure, why not? We will get dressed up, pay for an expensive ticket and sit and let the president call us names. (To be fair, the WHCA emphasizes the money from the event goes to scholarships and good causes.)

But what else is the point of this exercise? Other than tut-tutting at Trump for being rude what news is coming out of this?

And isn’t that the original point?

It isn’t that media shouldn’t be pursuing stories about the president. The war in Iran is a global story. Actual boots on the ground reporting from there would be important. Tariffs, taxes and gas prices are all fair game. Ukraine. Elections.

Some of that is happening.

But much of what we’re getting is a cluster of microphone-holders standing in front of Trump’s desk so they can yell questions at him.

Which he doesn’t answer.

Every day.

He’s turned this into his own national podcast, coming to you from the Resolute Desk. He doesn’t even bother to get up. Just sits there and spins off riffs about how he’s wonderful and the country has never been more hot.

And, since you only get one question each session, the best you can hope for is a little viral moment where you do a back-and-forth and he calls you stupid.

It’s purely performance. Even Trump is falling asleep.

Ever since Trump happened to our country there’s been a question of HOW to cover him. At this point the bigger question is how NOT to cover him.

If I was Bari Weiss’d in charge of media, I’d send someone to those stream-of-unconsciousness Oval Office pressers, but I’d only run video if there was actual news.

Trump knows the deal. He’s pretending he doesn’t care about the bad polls, but he’s always followed them slavishly.

The words of Sen. Jon Ossoff (above) must haunt him. Ossoff said Trump was building all these monuments to himself because “No one will honor him when he’s gone.” He called him a “failed president and a national disgrace.”

History is likely to come to the same conclusion. Losing a war, especially one you started, always looks bad on a presidential resume.

Trump’s only play is to keep pumping up this sad balloon with a relentless barrage of PR slop, outrageous lies and noisy, performative, made-for-TV feuds.

Media. Don’t help him.

It’s the same advice we give every victim in an abusive relationship.

Leave him. You deserve better. So we.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads and Twitter @cwnevius

As we know, when a team bursts out of the starting gate with confidence and good vibes, and then executes a stunning, wince-inducing face plant, there is only one thing to do.

We have to find someone to blame.

In this case it is the Giants.

So you know the assignment.

As usual the manager is Suspect #One. Especially, if like Tony Vitello, you’re an untested, first time manager

To which I’d say, I’m listening. So far I’d call him “unimpressive.”

We could spend the entire post on Tony Talk, but I continue (probably ad nauseam) to go with a simple construct.

This is basically the same Giants team as last year. In fact, I’d say they are more talented than last year. Luis Arraez has been a pleasant surprise at second, Casey Schmidt is having a breakout year and the clamoring for Bryce Eldridge to get a full-time assignment with the big club has paid off.

Last year’s team was 81-81, which is not great. Still, although there were some wild swings they were in the playoff hunt right down to the end of September. At mid-season, CBS sports said the Giants were “within range of the Dodgers and presently occupying the second wild-card slot in the NL” and gave the team a grade of A.

This year’s team is 22-33, ten games under .500. They are currently running neck-and-neck with the Rockies for worst record in the National League. The Athletic ran a story with a headline detailing the team’s “hilariously incompetent start to the season.”

What changed?

I’m on record saying Bob Melvin should not have been fired, so not unbiased. Still Vitello deserves close scrutiny.

But if not Tony, who?

Obviously Buster.

It has honestly been a little shocking to hear good ol’ Buster Posey grilled on outlets like KNBR-radio. Morning host Brian Murphy plays along with the team rah-rah, as you have to when you’re the home outlet. But he’s also built a rep for coming in unexpectedly hard — but fair — on people like Jed York, who aren’t used to tough interviews.

Murphy’s talk with Posey last month followed a pattern. Murphy pushed an idea — the team isn’t serious enough — and Buster waffled. Except for saying Vitello was “solid,” he didn’t seem to have many answers.

Which is weird. Because contrary to what everyone thought when Posey was handed the reins to the team — that he’d play it safe, stay middle of the road, and use a turn signal when he made a trade — he’s been Big Swing Buster.

You know the list of moves. If you don’t just wait until the next Giants loss and some fan will remind you.

Willy Adames seven-year contract $182 million. Matt Chapman, six years $151 million. And, pause for effect, Rafael Devers, 10 years $315.5 million. (Only eight years and $254 million left after assuming Red Sox contract.)

He’s tried all kinds of things. Buster hired Vitello out of college when lots of people said it was a risky move. He abruptly traded Gold Glove catcher Patrick Bailey when he wasn’t hitting. (BTW Bailey seems to be thriving in his new home in Cleveland.)

This week he even brought up Jonah Cox from the wilds of Double A ball, where he had been tearing it up for the Richmond Flying Squirrels.

So, in sum, big moves, poor results. Even never flustered Buster has to be feeling some heat.

It’s understandable.

So I am going to go the opposite way and attempt a contrarian view. I understand this will be an uphill struggle but thought I’d take it on as a thought experiment if nothing else.

I don’t have a problem with what Buster has done.

First, isn’t this always the first complaint when a team goes south? Why aren’t they making moves? Why don’t they spend some money? Why aren’t young players coming up from the farm system?

Like it or lump it, Posey has done that. So far things haven’t worked out, but I’m here for the effort.

Let’s take a look at a few:

Vitello? Asked and answered. Next question.

Devers? Well, you say, Devers is an over-priced, over-hyped drag on the team. His salary is eating up potential roster money and swinging right through fastballs is not what we had in mind.

OK, first, if we acknowledge that the Giants were in need of a power hitter, who would you have picked — Shohei Ohtani, Aaron Judge, Carlos Correa or Bryce Harper?

Yeah, the Giants wanted to sign them too. They couldn’t. It turned into a comedy routine. They offered contracts to everyone but 80-year-old Reggie Jackson.

The slugger market isn’t a huge one, and it wasn’t an out-of-this-world reach for Posey to go after Devers. He’s a three-time All Star, has won two Silver Sluggers and is only 29.

He’s currently showing signs of life at the plate after a terrible start. Now, it may not last, and he may be disappointing, but those are not his career numbers. Since 2017, except when he played limited games, he’s hit at least 20 home runs a year. I still stop to watch his at bats on TV.

I’d call Devers a reasonable gamble and the jury is out.

Adames is a puzzle. On one hand he’s just what you want. He seems upbeat and energetic, going out of his way to support teammates.

But he hasn’t been great this year. He’s already committed ten errors, the most in the Major Leagues. He’s been floundering at the plate too, at times fishing for pitches way outside the strike zone.

Again, although he’s not playing well now, that’s not his history. Two years ago he was +16 in “outs above average” on the field. He’s hit for power, over 20 HRs each year since 2021 and had 30 last year as a Giants.

If he were at career numbers he’d look fine. The fact that he’s under water, combined with his role in a series of team-wide bonehead plays, definitely make him a target.

That’s fair. But just saying, when you look at his body of work, Adames wasn’t a bad bet.

As for our Double A call-up, Jonah Cox, you can call it a cynical distraction if you’d like. Going from the Flying Squirrels to the San Francisco Giants does sound a little silly.

But unfortunately for readers, this gives me a chance to revive my long-time crackpot theory.

Which is, why does baseball need five (or six or whatever) levels of minor league seasoning before players are allowed to enter the hallowed halls of Major League baseball? Is it really this complicated?

Other professional sports certainly don’t do it. The NBA has been signing kids right out of high school for God’s sake.

And don’t tell me there are an incredible number of subtleties that the young player must learn and appreciate.

Nearly everyone agrees the toughest position in sports is quarterback. In the NFL a QB needs to read defenses, change plays on the fly and make critical split-second decisions.

And yet NFL teams walk a player right out of college graduation ceremonies and put them under center against the most sophisticated defenses designed by man.

My guess is the franchises know who the real players are pretty quickly. In the NBA and NFL they identify them, put them in the game and hope it works out.

Baseball literally sends them to a farm. They labor there with a bunch of “farmhands” who are never going to make MLB. And they may sit for years until they get the call.

Cox did look pretty good. Granted, his first hit (above) was off a batting practice fastball in a rout of a game, but he hit it solidly. And scoring from first on a single was impressive.

He is fast. So that’s something. Let’s give it a try and see if it works out.

Because weren’t you the ones who wanted things shaken up?

OK, Posey is making moves and taking shots.

You can’t blame him for that.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Twitter and Threads: @cwnevius

Incredibly, the Nobody for Governor campaign appears to be picking up momentum.

At this point it seems undeniable. In California, Nobody is gaining widespread support.

That’s not how the deep thinkers saw this playing out. The logical progression would be that the large field would winnow itself down, finally anointing a solid front-runner who would sweep to victory.

Instead we continue to feature an unruly stampede of up to ten candidates, depending how far down the ballot you want to go, and, in every case, even the “leaders” are struggling to get to 20 percent in the polls.

In short, there’s a lot going on, but political clarity is not a part of it.

Until now our local Democratic voter-advocacy group has been advising us to hold our fire on mail-in ballots, waiting until Mr./Ms. Right ascended the polls as the June 2 primary approached.

Now they’ve thrown up their collective hands.

“The top three candidates are Xavier Becerra, Steve Hilton and Tom Steyer,” they told us last week. “You know what to do.”

Actually . . . we don’t know what to do.

Becerra would love to claim he’s the guy who caught fire late in the race. And technically he is the leader, with 19-20 percent support in most polls.

But he’s proved to be remarkably flame resistant.

His support, like his stump speeches, is tepid. Last week Gov. Gavin Newsom had another chance to endorse Becerra, a former Biden Health and Human Services head, and declined, saying he was “focusing on diapers.”

(That apparent nonsequiteur was in reference to a Newsom-backed state program to give 400 diapers to parents with newborns.)

But the point was clear — I’m not getting involved until I have to, and at this point Becerra is not my guy.

Also declining to endorse Becerra are power broker Nancy Pelosi and former Vice President Kamala Harris. Those are two pols who should know the former Biden official well. If they believed in him they’d have endorsed long ago.

Nervous Nellies continue to fret about a disaster. They fear affable, Trump-endorsed Republican Steve Hilton, who has reliably been in the top two of the field and trails Becerra by two or three points, could slip into the lead.

To counteract that possibility, the story goes, the Dems have to pick someone and rally around him or her.

Some wish that someone would be Becerra, but it is just one clang after another.

For instance, half-dozen former members of Biden’s brain trust went out of their way to trash Becerra’s credentials.

“It gets the biggest laugh every time we send around a poll,” a former official told Politico, describing the perception across the administration that the former HHS secretary was ineffective on the Covid response, a migrant health crisis at the border and other matters.

He’s had to answer for a potential campaign fraud case from a former aide, which has risen to the level of federal investigation. Opponents, like Katie Porter, have been banging him over the head with that.

And now he’s somehow been forced to defend his connections with the weird Church of Scientology. I did not see that coming.

The point is, Becerra is the definition of a vulnerable candidate. And the voters seem to recognize it. Despite recent media buzz, he’s stuck at 20 percent.

With everyone treading water and the primary a little over two weeks away, election scouts are looking to see if someone is thrown a life preserver.

And last week we had a potential tide-tipper. The SF Chronicle endorsed former Rep. Katie Porter.

Porter’s campaign, of course, has the endorsement all over social media. And sure, the Chronicle endorsement is a big deal.

I just can’t figure out why they did it.

To be clear, I wrote columns for the Chronicle for 36 years and consider it the defining influence in my professional life. I’m a Chron Guy, through and through.

But Katie Porter? C’mon.

First, and importantly, she’s not going to win.

The numbers are pretty clear.

She launched the race as a wise-cracking, white-board-waving front-runner, leading the field at 14 percent. But since then her numbers have only slid. Today she’s at more like 10 percent, half of Becerra. Worse, she’s consistently stuck in fourth place.

She got a bad break with her “get out of my fucking shot” video, which showed her berating an aide.

And unfortunately, and unfairly, that only played into the narrative that women candidates are “temperamental” and “emotional.”

Reading the Chronicle endorsement though, you can kind of see where they’re coming from. They are going full political wonk, zeroing in, for instance, on Porter’s “progressive corporate tax on high earning companies.”

That’s fine, but by all accounts, this is a vibe election, not a wonk election. As even the Chronicle says, “This state over-indexes for charisma.” Campaigning deep in the weeds isn’t going to carry the day.

This may be part of the reason for the fever dream nightmare that terrifies the D‘s. That the two slick-talking Republicans in the race might slip in through the side door and win both spots in the primary.

We are often wrong in this space, but I don’t think we are here.

That’s never going to happen.

Chad Bianco, the sheriff from Riverside County, is not going to play in blue California. He’s already admitted that he’s at least a past member of the extreme right-wing group, the Oath Keepers.

On the highly recommended political podcast Hacks on Tap, veteran campaign strategist Mike Murphy mocked Bianco as “Yosemite Sam,” and joked he all but pulled out his six-gun and fired it at the roof.

Nope.

As for Hilton, he’s smooth, but if a Trump-endorsed Republican was voted governor of California, it would be the political story of the decade. That’s not happening.

In fact, there’s a school of thought that Trump, by endorsing Hilton, actually did the Dems a favor. If Hilton is nudged up to be one of the two finalists with a Trump push, Democrats can put any one of their hopefuls up against him and assume the odds are in their favor.

In that scenario, Trump will have let the D’s choose whoever they wanted.

If only they could coalesce around a front runner.

Next up is billionaire Tom Steyer, who has been a surprise. Quite a number of smart, perceptive friends, relatives and neighbors have decided to take a Steyer-flyer.

Steyer is certainly out there. His $130+ million, self-funding campaign has his face everywhere — TV, streaming and social media.

The complaint about him is — and again the Chronicle endorsement story is a good reference — Steyer’s programs and promises tend to be long on good intentions and short on specifics. As several have pointed out, vows for “closing tax loopholes” and finding “fraud and waste in infrastructure,” are familiar, if vague, unicorns.

Steyer is certainly a voice of change. Just not sure we know what we’re changing to. I also have concerns about a political newbie dealing with the state’s stubborn and independent-minded legislature.

Meanwhile, someone to watch is former LA Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa.

Not because he could win. At four percent, that ship has sailed.

But there are those who think Villaraigosa might drop out and make an endorsement in these final days. He’s still got some political juice in the state. And in a race as close as this, he could make a difference.

That leaves us with San Jose Mayor and young Democrat Matt Mahan.

Unlike Porter and Steyer, Mahan has been moving up in the polls. He was at about four percent in April and is now twice that. Granted, eight percent doesn’t sound impressive, but according to Emerson College polling, that puts him within a point or two of Porter and Bianco for fourth place and moving in the right direction.

That, at least, would put Mahan in the conversation with the Big Three: Becerra, Hilton and Steyer. The Cinderella scenario for him is that Steyer continues to slip and California voters wake up and realize that Hilton is a Trump-endorsed former Fox News host.

Granted, there are persistent concerns that Mahan is backed by tech billionaires. And some of them are affiliated with the likes of Elon Musk and Peter Thiel, who are terrible.

But the donation amounts are generally in the $70-80,000 range. That’s a lot of money, but compared to Steyer’s hundreds of millions, it’s less likely to have tech-bros running the administration.

Give Mahan a listen. He’s got some good answers and homelessness, which lots of politicians treat as a third rail, is one of his first talking points.

There are those who knock his youth and lack of experience, but Steyer’s never held office and Hilton’s only political experience was in the United Kingdom.

As for being young . . . I thought that’s what we were shooting for. New, fresh and young leaders.

God knows I’m done with the old ones.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads and Twitter: @cwnevius

Scott Wiener is embracing the giraffe.

It makes sense.

San Francisco’s Asian voters got one look at the gangly, 6-7 Wiener, back in 2010 when he started his political career, and decided he needed a nickname. Influential Chinatown power broker Rose Pak went with “the giraffe.”

That’s a good thing.

First, Asian voters are a big and important voting block in the 11th Congressional district where Wiener is running to fill the seat left by retiring legend Nancy Pelosi. The District is basically San Francisco and some other bits and pieces. Leaning into the nickname only helps at the ballot box.

And then, let’s be honest, he is a little awkward and nerdy. It’s kind of his brand. So why not go full giraffe? After all, it worked for Giants’ first baseman Brandon Belt.

It’s just that now Wiener is in a major political race, succeeding Speaker of the House Pelosi. And it is attracting national attention. A larger audience is getting a first look at him, like when CNN did a recent drill-down on 11th District race.

And they would be excused if some of those viewers caught Wiener going deep into the weeds on some policy program in his familiar monotone drone and concluded, “This guy’s a dork.”

And depending on the definition, that may be true. But I keep thinking about something an established San Franciscan and astute political analyst said to me recently:

“Scott is a dork. But he’s our dork.”

Could not agree more. In this three-person race, with lots of egos swirling, Wiener, gay, progressive and politically relentless, is the most San Franciscan of all possible choices.

(Full disclosure. I lived in SF for years and wrote a Chronicle column “On San Francisco,” and often interacted with Wiener, I don’t live there now.)

Consider some bona fides.

There is a time-honored political step ladder to San Francisco politics. Many start the first steps, but fall off along the way.

Wiener breezed through Step One, getting elected and then re-elected to the SF Board of Supervisors. He was, and remains, a legislative machine, banging out bills on housing, transportation and LBGTQ issues.

(Also, and I have never understood this, a persistent bid to change the law to allow bars to stay open until four in the morning.)

Next step is to run for statewide office. Wiener was elected to State Senate in 2016 and re-elected in 2020 and 2024.

And now there’s this, which is the biggest swing of his career. He’s nothing if not ambitious. The retiring Pelosi is a big national name, but in San Francisco she’s legend. After all, she’s been in office there since 1987.

As Gov. Gavin Newsom told CNN: “I’m not sure what came first, Pelosi or San Francisco.”

Wiener has gone at the race with a typical mixture of relentless campaigning — I’m not the first to say he’d attend the opening of an envelope — a blizzard of bills and position papers and a bit of a tin ear.

Because although everyone knew Pelosi was going to retire, they also knew she wanted to announce it in her own time.

Wiener essentially said, “forget that,” and announced his candidacy before Pelosi said she was retiring. He also declined to step aside to make way for Pelosi’s daughter Christine, who is now running for Wiener’s seat in state senate.

Even Wiener admits relations with Pelosi have been a “little strained” at times.

But that’s part of the Scott package. He’s relentless.

When I was working at the Chronicle one of my editors got a call at home from Wiener to discuss a measure he was pushing.

“Uh, Scott,” he was told. “The Super Bowl is on.”

“OK,” he replied.

“The Forty-niners are playing in it.”

There was a pause, and then, “So the point of the bill is . . .”

But isn’t that what you want as a representative? Newsom called him “a bit of a legend” when it comes to pushing legislation.

And again, he’s on the right side of the issues, including housing, transportation and a bill to make it illegal for ICE agents to wear masks during enforcement.

Now, what’s been interesting is the scrum taking place beneath Wiener’s bid.

Last week a Chronicle poll put Wiener at 40 percent, with SF Supervisor Connie Chan and software developer and AOC-touting Saikat Chakrabarti below 20 percent.

That should be that, right? Whoever wins this primary, which is June 2, should easily romp over anyone else in the general election.

But there is persistent hand-wringing among giraffe-supporting pundits in the city.

For starters, Chakrabarti is charismatic, young and wealthy — giving his campaign some $4.8 million of his own money so far.

He’s also, by association, pushing the idea that, as former chief of staff to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, he could be San Francisco’s version of the AOC revolution.

But as Wiener supporters continue to point out, Chakrabarti is not exactly best buds with her.

Not only has Ocasio-Cortez pointedly declined to endorse him, his departure from her office was messy at best. Chakrabarti has called it a “planned transition,” but there are also credible reports that he resigned before AOC fired him.

Accordingly, in the city, where local politics takes local to a whole new level, a car sometimes appears at his events with a sign reading “AOC FIRED SAIKAT.”

He’s definitely going to have to overcome carpetbagging accusations. Fellow second-place candidate Chan has called him, “a tech bro that’s been helicoptered into San Francisco.”

Although he says he moved to SF in 2009, he also says he’s been back and forth. The firm date, he says is 2019. So seven years. Meh.

Chan, meanwhile, could be a spoiler. The question is, for whom.

She’s a steady, labor-friendly, working class Asian woman.

The latter is important for two reasons. First, she should do well with Asian voters, who are not to be taken lightly.

And second, it has become common knowledge that Pelosi is concerned about women leaving Washington and wants to encourage female candidates.

Pelosi insists she won’t endorse before the June 2 primary, but she’s appeared at Chan events, and has said, “she’s be a great member of congress.”

A snap judgement would be that Pelosi has still not forgiven Wiener and that pumping up Chan will dig into his support. And it may.

But by highlighting her, it reinforces the idea that she and Chakrabarti are equals, fighting it out for second place. Put together head-to-head, Chan has to be considered the “more SF” candidate.

She may pull away some of his support. And that would help Wiener.

One thing is certain. You know what you’re getting. An LA Times profile revealed that fellow Sacramento fellow pols have coined a phrase “Wiener fatigue.” It’s what happens when they are worn down after his constant barrage of bills and legislation.

As the Times said: “Even Wiener knows he can come across as irritating — “in a loving way!” he insists.”

Yep. That’s our guy.

The dork San Francisco needs.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads and Twitter: @cwnevius

KPBS Photo

That’s all, right?

It’s really over?

That was the last gubernatorial debate?

Because for a while there, when they went Tuesday-Wednesday, it was starting to look like a nightly feature.

It certainly became familiar. A small soccer squad of candidates, arrayed seven-abreast across the stage. And yet, even this late in the race — the primary is June 2! — not much has been settled.

The “leaders” are polling in the low 20s and the single-digit no-hopers are avoiding walls in case they might see handwriting. Basically, nobody is dropping out.

As of now there are 62 candidates in the race.

You heard me.

We should, however, offer congratulations. They may have spun their wheels in the debate, but they did accomplish something important.

They identified the major problems facing California. Which are:

Young people are unable to afford a home. Medical coverage is too expensive and cumbersome. Gas is way too high. Insurance seems like a scam.

And frankly, there is remarkable agreement on those. San Jose Mayor Matt Mahan could be heard in the debate saying housing costs should be reduced by loosening CEQA (California Environmental Quality Act) regulations, which is something right wing Sheriff Chad Bianco had just promoted.

So apparently, as soon as one of them is elected governor, acres of new, affordable homes will be built. Insurance rates will be capped. Gas prices will drop. And you won’t believe the comprehensive medical care that will be created.

Now, can a governor do any or all of those things?

Unclear.

As former Congresswoman Katie Porter said of billionaire Tom Steyer, “He says he is doing it, but the truth is, he’s promising it.”

They all are. It’s pretty clear that nobody has a killer vision for the future that has swept everyone away.

This is a vibe election. Who do you get the best feel for?

Obviously, people are having trouble deciding. The three consistently highest polling candidates have been: career, old-style Democratic politician Xavier Becerra; rich, political novice Steyer and Republican former Fox TV host Steve Hilton.

They couldn’t be much more different.

Accordingly, the deep thinkers are holding their fire. As of now, Gov. Gavin Newsom has still not endorsed a candidate.

Neither has Kamala Harris, who could have saved us all of this trouble by running for the office, clearing the field, winning in a walkover and trolling Trump for years.

We get it. Anything can happen. Look at Eric Swalwell. A month ago he was leading the polls. Now he’s the invisible man.

(By the way . . .Now that women have come forward, in public, with stories of sexual harassment, you’re saying EVERYONE knew about Swalwell? Seriously? And if so, how did you let him run for office?)

Anyhow, c’mon folks. Ballots are in the mail. Decisions must be made.

Currently the winds seem to favor the X factor, Becerra. He’s been the beneficiary of the Swalwell swoon and he’s the one the other candidates are taking shots at.

This is just the view from here — and there are no doubt dozens of people smarter and more perceptive than me — but Becerra gives off empty suit energy. Like he’s the guy who got the promotion and now is wondering if he can do the job.

If he was considered a star, you know Gavin and Kamala would have already endorsed him. And that might have been enough to carry him over the line. But so far, not happening. And there are even stories that the Biden White House wasn’t impressed with him as a cabinet secretary.

Pressed on his views, Becerra opted for an order of waffles.

He is definitely in favor of single-payer heath care in California, he is just a little reluctant to call it that. Hummm.

Just an aside, and no one asked me, it seems that’s the problem with a single payer plan. By which I mean comprehensive, state-wide, medical, dental and vision care for everyone in the state. Also known as CalCare.

Advice from here? Don’t get caught in that trap. Single payer may be a laudable idea, but not now.

Single-payer is a huge, cumbersome, complicated plan that is eye-wateringly expensive — $400 billion. It is exactly the kind of big, pricey government program Republicans love to mock.

Also, it needs federal approval. Try something doable that you can point to afterward.

After Becerra, it is important not to take Hilton for granted.

It seems almost impossible to be writing these words, but Hilton, who is formally endorsed by Donald Trump, has polled among the top two every single week.

In a way, you can see why the Hilton view is so appealing.

It’s simple, he explains. There are rules, and laws. And they must be obeyed. Take immigration, for example.

Hilton says he immigrated to the United States in 2012, lived here for nine years and then, in 2021, became an American citizen.

That, Steve explains, is how it is done. The RIGHT way.

First, we will assume Steve and his family were not fleeing deadly gang violence when they left England. Nor crippling poverty. Nor a level of desperation so great that he had to leave his home and take a chance on making a new life.

But let’s don’t go all squishy here. Frankly, the border argument has been mostly settled. No less a progressive than San Jose’s Mahan said we all want a strong border. That’s become a relatively common view.

But what Steve skips over is the inconvenient truth of the estimated 2.3 million undocumented residents of California. That’s an estimated seven percent of the total population and nine percent of the labor force, according to the Public Policy Institute of California.

Hilton would wave his hand and deport an estimated 1.75 million undocumented workers. Really?

Seems unlikely to be productive for the workforce.

Also, wouldn’t it make sense that those undocumented who have been living here would be among the first to sign up for citizenship if they could? It isn’t as if they are refusing to do it the RIGHT way.

Also, undocumented residents who have established themselves here would likely be the easiest immigrants to integrate. They already have jobs, pay taxes and know how to navigate the economy.

You know those stories about Trump saying he was surprised he won? Hilton looks like a guy who is kind of amazed this Fox host stuff is working.

True doom-and-gloom election watchers have been stressed out that Hilton is joined in the mid-range polls by another Republican, Sheriff Chad Bianco.

Sadly for him, Sheriff Chad imploded at the debates and must surely be running a dead campaign walking.

It began when former LA Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa drew gasps when he asked Bianco if it was true he was a member of the extreme, right-wing group, The Oathkeepers.

Followed by more gasps when Bianco said he was and was “very proud” of past membership.

Villaraigosa not to be underestimated BTW. He landed some real jabs, including to personal rival Becarra. In his second try for governor, and at 73 he may be getting overlooked. But watch him.

When Bianco told Villaraigosa, “I don’t think you know what an Oathkeeper is,” the latter mic dropped . . . “I saw them on CNN attacking the Capitol.”

CNN’s Kaitlin Collins finished off Sheriff Chad when she had him yabby-yabby-ing over bad-mouthing his fellow Republican, Hilton. Bianco finally having to say, “sure,” he’d been quoted correctly.

Say goodnight Sheriff.

That brings up Steyer, who is basically known as “billionaire Tom Steyer” in all references.

He’s getting a lot of hate about past investments, which is fair game, I suppose.

But you know he could have just Scrooge McDuck-ed the rest of his life, skiing down piles of money in his vault. And instead he’s out here taking the slings and arrows.

Billionaire Tom Steyer even has a commercial, saying he saw the light and that’s why he’s doing this.

So, fine. He’s spent millions to appear on your TV every 15 minutes. He clearly wants the job.

He’s got the right buzzwords — ‘‘housing, lower costs” — but they are more concepts than plans.

Still, he’s picking up speed. Willie Brown endorsed Billionaire Tom Steyer and Mayor Brown is not in the habit of backing losers.

Porter is winning the soundbite bakeoff. She’s certainly making every effort. Her team sent out an email with a subject line, “Fuck Trump,” and she told Bianco to “Cowboy up, cupcake.”

She will also get a debate boost from Wait-I-think-I-Have-Another-Shot-At-My-Foot Bianco.

When Porter sound-bited, “Sir, I don’t need a lecture from you about being a mother,” Bianco nonsensically blurted, “You might.”

Eesh.

Everybody is rooting for Katie, but as news stories continue to bring up, temperament is a constant theme. Not fair, just sayin’.

I keep saying I kind of like Mahan, and people keep asking me if I know who’s backing him.

Sort of.

Here’s the AI summery: “Silicon Valley tech billionaires are heavily backing San Jose Mayor Matt Mahan’s 2026 California gubernatorial campaign, fueling controversy over his moderate, “anti-establishment” platform. Critics label him a “billionaire puppet” for accepting max donations from tech elite like Sergey Brin and Joe Lonsdale, while he advocates for tougher crime penalties, opposes certain wealth taxes, and clashes with state Democratic leadership.'“

That’s beyond my understanding. I would say that it also mentioned Mahan support from San Francisco’s Garry Tan, and I am a big fan of his, so I’m taking this with a grain of salt.

I like Mahan’s homeless policy in San Jose. Minimal, but safe, housing is offered, but you must accept it or leave. Staying on the street is not an option.

Mahan is not experienced, but I thought he held his own in the debates and is a fresh new face.

Of course, I’ve been wrong before.

Right now, even our local Democratic political group is telling us to hold our ballots. Just wait, they say, until we figure out where this is going. Something is going to happen.

Cowboy up, cupcake.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads and Twitter: @cwnevius

When the Giants hired Tony Vitello, there were concerns that he was such a hothead when he coached at Tennessee that he might have to tone it down for the Big Leagues.

Mission accomplished.

Any mythology of Fireball Tony died a sad death over the weekend in Tampa Bay’s weird, indoor erector set of a baseball field, in front of a crowd of almost nobody. (This photo shows the ballpark but not the empty seats.)

The Giants lost, of course, as they have been, but have begun to look like a sad and listless club team that can’t get out of its own way. Worse, they’d reached such a nadir of enthusiasm that they couldn’t muster a fuss, even when a pre-made fuss was presented to them.

It was only a moment in a bad stretch of bad moments, but it was revealing.

You already know the story. In Saturday’s game Heliot Ramos hit a deep fly to center, even taking the time to pose at a home plate because he was sure it was gone. Centerfielder Cedric Mullins backed up, reached the wall, looked up and . . .

Suddenly lurched forward and caught an easy pop fly well short of the wall.

The evidence was circumstantial, but it certainly looked like the ball hit the catwalk over the fence. It would not be the first time. The catwalks have a history. The New York Times called it part ballpark, “part pinball machine.”

After some discussion, the umpires ruled the ball hadn’t hit the catwalk and was an out. They took away the home run.

At this point, Vitello’s reaction should be automatic.

He comes out of the dugout like a roman candle. We’re talking George Brett with the pine tar bat energy. (see above.) That’s how you react when a homer is taken away.

Vitello should say something to the effect of, “F-bombing right it was an f-bombing home run! Are you f-bombing BLIND?”

And, given a little encouragement, he could be thrown out of the game. And, because I’m a bit of a theater guy, I’d like it if he’d go over and kick some dirt on the plate, just for the gesture.

Instead the reaction was a little more “Pardon? What’s the ruling? That doesn’t seem right.”

Others were more engaged.

Exasperated starter Adrian Houser pitched a fit to the umps and was thrown out. Pitching coach Frank Anderson, apparently figuring no one else was doing anything, went out to confront the officials and got tossed too.

After the game, Vitello said he was “just trying to get it sorted” and wondering “can we take a look at it?”

And then he said:

“I kinda blacked out to be honest with you.”

Really? Have you had that checked? Cause controversial plays are part of the job description.

And then he referenced something that has flown under the radar a little. That he isn’t getting Major League respect. Broadcaster Dave Fleming said he thought home plate umpire asked “Who do you think you are?”

Vitello certainly picked up on it, saying home plate umpire Hunter Wendlestedt said “something about ra-ra and pom-poms which had something to do with college or my behavior in the dugout.”

So lack of gravitas was a concern coming in, and it sounds like it is turning out to be a feature not a bug.

Here’s the point . . .

It is entirely possible the ball didn’t hit the catwalk. Who is to say? It is pretty obvious no one, including the officials knew for sure.

It doesn’t matter.

You go out there, guns blazing, defending your guys. That’s what’s expected. You project confidence, strength and knowledge of the game. You look like you belong.

And right now Vitello doesn’t.

He looks over his head in press conferences. He references “the noise,” meaning the media and internet chatter, that is growing as the team struggles. Sounds like someone who is letting it get to him.

Worse, there are identifiable moments when he looks overwhelmed.

The doubleheader loss sweep in Philadelphia had the kind of glaring, face-slapping lapses that kills hope.

Nine consecutive fastballs to Bryson Allen in the bottom of the ninth. (Result, game-winning triple.)

Nine straight splits to Kyle Schwarber. (Result: game-tying double, leading to loss in the bottom of the tenth.)

The next day on KNBR Mike Krukow said he was “yelling” at the TV to see such rock-headed pitching incompetence. And he said, when his wife came in to see why he was yelling, “she started yelling at the TV.”

Now you’re going to say that a manager can’t hit, catch or run for himself. (And neither can the players, apparently.)

But a manager does set a tone for a team. And after the Saturday loss to Tampa, broadcaster Dave Fleming, who is, after all, invested in the Giants doing well, called the team “dispirited.”

This makes the Giants’ wicket a little sticky. They will, of course, be saying that they are not even considering saying that Vitello is not up to the job, but let’s don’t pretend it hasn’t come up, at least as a hypothetical.

The team is still paying fired manager Bob Melvin $4 million this year for him to sit on the couch, nod to the TV and say, “Yeah, I might have gone with the lefty there Tony.”

(Melvin has also gotten a front office job with the A’s, so he’s still in the game.)

And that’s in addition to the $3.5 million a year they are paying Vitello, who is in the first year of a three-year contract.

That’s a lot of cabbage for a franchise that is famously mid-level frugal. Although now that they have “Kushner money” (and what an embarrassment that is in SF) they should be able to front a large payroll.

Right now it looks like they’re stuck — the team, the manager and the players.

At this point it seems there’s only on direction. Back to the future, when Vitello was hired and we were watching clips of him losing his mind, coming out of the dugout and taking on umpires all over the field.

It’s better to flame out than fade away. Just a thought.

Otherwise, when you think of this season you will have only one logical response.

I blacked out.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Twitter and Threads: cwnevius

When we heard Steve Kerr’s contract would expire at the end of the season, everybody knew it was the start of tick-tock drama.

But I don’t think anyone expected the spicy level of the discussion, or the sour vibes that have crept in.

Now, let’s stipulate, it is entirely possible that in the next few days (or now, depending on when you are reading) Kerr will sign a career-affirming three or four-year contract to coach the team again. In fact, here’s well-connected Monte Poole saying there are reasons for optimism.

It’s just that no one else is saying that. Draymond Green, fer heavens sake, said almost immediately that he didn’t think Kerr was coming back. So did pundits, insiders and click bait danglers.

And to be perfectly honest, another Groundhog Day Warriors season doesn’t look that appealing.

It would be another year of Steph and the Miracles, with Steph Curry getting grabbed and pulled around like taffy by defenders. Steph is a transcendent talent — that’s a given.

But he’s got to have help. So does that mean another reach for an available (hopefully under 40) free agent? And frankly, if your solution is Kristaps Porzingis, no thanks.

Still, until recently that’s where things stood. At the corner of “Steve deserves another chance,” and “Let’s try something new.”

Complications have ensued.

First there was some mild sniping from the Warriors brain trust. According, again, to Poole, “the front office would like to see a readiness to embrace greater flexibility with coaching schemes, particularly as they relate to the team’s younger players.”

Ok. That starts the Jonathan Kuminga discussion. But additionally there were leaks that they didn’t feel Kerr held the veterans, Curry and Green, accountable for their actions. And that they may have been seeming a little entitled and smug.

All right. So that’s interesting. So we’re negotiating in public.

And then we have, out of the clear blue sky, the Steve Kerr New Yorker interview.

(First off, DM to Steve Kerr. You were in the New Yorker? Awesome! Bucket list item checked.)

But it is impossible not to notice that for a publication that is famous for taking weeks, if not months, to cobble together a story, this was a rocket ship.

The Q and A clearly came after the end of the season and, as we know, before a decision was made about coaching. Somebody wanted this out there.

As expected with Kerr, it is thoughtful and interesting. But there is an unmistakeable moment when he wanted to make a point. Given a question about whether Green could be a coach some day, Kerr said he’d have to learn to control his emotions.

He said Green had gotten better over the years: “But this year we had a major blowout in December. He’s such a unique person. There’s things he’s done that I can never forgive him for, and yet I will do anything for him.”

The “blowout in December” (see video above) can be Googled in seconds. It was Dec. 22.

After back-to-back turnovers, Kerr called time out and gave an animated courtside speech. The video lets you see Green barking back and Moses Moody trying to talk Green down.

It didn’t work. Green — as we’ve seen over the years — is unable to ramp his emotions down. Eventually he gets up, leaves the huddle and goes to the locker room. Afterward, Kerr confirmed that it was all Green’s doing. Kerr didn’t send him off.

So . . . he quit.

During a game.

Green got mad at the coach and walked off the floor. It was inexcusable.

And yet it was excused.

Like when he put Rudy Gobert in a chokehold:

As you might expect, Green saw The New Yorker story as “shots fired.”

Speaking on his podcast, Green complained that Kerr had “hindered” his career — not that he’s bitter, mind you. He’s just saying.

“You know, when [Kevin Durant] came from 2016 on, I have not had a play in our playbook. Not a single play that we run for me in our playbook since 2016. You think that would hinder someone as an offensive player? Of course. So at times, I go home and I think about my career and I’m happy as hell of what I’ve been able to build. But at times, sometimes I sit there and think, ‘What could I really have been if I stayed true to my game and what I really was?’ ”

Uh yeah. OK.

Why don’t you convene a meeting of the Why-Doesn’t-Draymond-Get-To-Shoot-More-Often-Club and get back to me?

Even he must know that’s silly. Green made it in the league as a defender and he should (and probably is) grateful that NBA types recognized his value, even if he is scoring eight points a game.

But since we are here, and at this moment in franchise history, I would like to offer an unfortunate truth. And I’m willing to die on this hill.

The Warriors’ modern NBA dynasty ended the day Green punched Jordan Poole in the face at practice in October of 2022. Everything since then has been ripples.

Set the scene. The Warriors were coming off their improbable 2022 NBA championship. Probably the Kerr-era’s finest hour.

And, although we tend to think of Poole as an unrepentant knucklehead, he was key to that title run. No less than Andre Iguodala reminds us that Poole was second on the team in scoring.

And Iguodala adds, he stepped up in the Finals:

“He won us a game in the finals. He did do that; he won us game five.”

You could see how Poole could be annoying. He flopped and whined and took wild shots. But there was potential here. And he proved he could improve. On the Big Stage, he came through.

Since the punch, Green has given various versions of “I said I was sorry, just get over it.”

Poole, it seems pretty clear, hasn’t. When a co-worked punches you, it leaves a mark. He’s kicked around. Since 2019 he’s played for three teams and doesn’t seem to be making much progress.

Neither have the Warriors. They’ve finished sixth, tenth, seventh and ninth.

During that time they traded Poole, Patrick Baldwin, Ryan Rollins (now an emerging talent,) a 2027 second round draft, a 2030 first round pick and cash considerations for 38-year-old, washed up Chris Paul.

At the time it looked like a bold trade.

But now we know. Valuing and excusing the behavior an older guy (Green) instead of valuing potential young talent (Poole, Kuminga, Rollins etc.) isn’t a strategy.

It’s a trap.

And here we are.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads/Twitter: @cwnevius

Last Thursday I almost died.

So that was unexpected.

But it was no joke. An ambulance and firetruck pulled up to the house, sirens howling. EMTs put me on a stretcher and rushed me to the Emergency Room. I was intubated (Pitt reference) with a tube down my throat and put in a medically induced coma.

It wasn’t just for practice either. I suffered two seizures, one in the ambulance on the on the way and one on the table. I was unconscious and unresponsive for hours and only woke up in an ICU bed late in the day, wondering where I was and what had happened.

Which was unfortunate because I had other plans for the day.

It had been a pretty typical week. I played two hours of pickleball Tuesday, generally getting my butt kicked but having a jovial time. On Wednesday I took my usual three-mile walk, then did some yard work and watched the Warriors’ game that night.

And when I woke up the next morning I couldn’t form words. My wife — thank God — picked up on it immediately. I was slurring what I did say, but most of it didn’t make sense.

She quickly called 911 and the dispatcher put her through the symptoms of a stroke. Hold the arms up, smile, say “The early bird catches the worm.”

She says I did the first two but then just shook my head. I couldn’t say the words.

I remember being in bed and wondering why seven guys in fireman uniforms were in our bedroom. I remember getting on the stretcher. I saw the ambulance doors close and I could watch the street recede in the back windows as we sped away.

Then nothing.

Our wonderful, adult kids immediately came up from San Francisco. They told me they gathered around my bed, me unconscious and the tube still down my throat. My daughter said (and I’m going to have to pause for a moment because this has choked me up every day since I heard it) “I thought I might never talk to you again.”

The medical team was all over me. At one point, my son says, a nurse who was attaching electrodes to my head turned to the family and said, “You know he has great hair and eyelashes.”

So that was something.

And then I came back. There wasn’t a ray of light or, unfortunately a chorus of angels, but suddenly I was in bed in a hospital room and getting way too much medical information, too fast.

I do know that I have never been so happy to see my wife and kids in my life.

They told me I had a TIA, (a transient ischemic attack) which is basically a minor stroke. There’s typically no lasting brain damage but it is a warning sign of a potential full stroke.

It’s basically good news. People have TIAs all the time and if they manage the medical markers, such as blood pressure, and track some common signs like verbal confusion or unsteadiness, recover completely.

But that doesn’t mean it didn’t scare the wholly living bejesus out of me and my loved ones. And for those of you who are about to warn me about lifestyle changes — and I have already heard from some of you. And bless you — believe me I am aware.

The fact is, the big numbers were already solid. My blood pressure has been in the 125-135 range. My cholesterol is very good. As noted earlier, I have tried to stay active and physical.

This stuff happens, regardless. All part of riding the Great Mandella.

You know the cliche’: Not yet, I have too much I want to do.

And I do. My son and his husband are having a baby. I desperately want to be there to be there for that. We’re planning a trip to England in a month. Neurologist and the ICU attending said it is hopeful I can go. Cmon, let that happen.

But I suppose it is always possible it may not work out. As bad as it was, it’s a reminder that events have their own mind. And what seemed so important may be just a blip in time.

Sean, my terrific night nurse, asked what I did before I retired. I little bit of me thought he might be intrigued when I said, “I was a newspaper columnist in San Francisco.”

And he said, “Huh. Would you like another pillow?”

It turned out that I improved dramatically. That’s typical for a lot of TIA patients apparently.

In fact, one of my doctors hinted that I might be able to go home Friday night.

“Well,” I said, “There is a Warriors game on TV I’d like to see.”

“We’ll see,” he said.

A couple of hours later he walked by.

“What time is the game?” he asked.

He let me go. He said all the tests looked good although we needed a followup outpatient MRI.

When the nurse came to get me with a wheelchair, “She said, ‘We almost never discharge ICU patients after one day. You’re a unicorn.”

I think it was the only poor diagnosis they made all day.

I didn’t feel like a unicorn. Surrounded by family, I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads: cwnevius

(Created with ChatGpt)

We begin with an apology.

I understand it is entirely possible that you are way ahead of me on this. You are hereby given permission to roll your eyes and say, “Uh duh,” as often as you’d like.

But in the spirit of when something happens to one person, he or she thinks it is a new experience for everyone, I thought I’d throw this out there.

The subject is Artificial Intelligence.

As you know, AI is the most earth-shattering experience in the history of the world. It will transform our lives, our careers, our children and the universe in general.

However . . .

And I kept this kind of quiet because when I heard AI was, among other things, propping up the Stock Market and writing novels, my take seemed a little silly.

I didn’t get it.

When I heard one of those testimonials about the virtues of AI it always sounded to me like, “I had to build a computer model to analyze a huge batch of data. It would have taken me a month to do that and AI did it in two hours.”

And I’d think, when did I last have to analyze tons of data?

Oh, that’s right. Never.

I wasn’t against AI. I just didn’t see a way to use it. I’d talk to Gemini (or Claude) and ask what Babe Ruth’s career batting average was. But that felt more like audio Google. How is it improving my life?

I guess I knew I could fiddle around and make an AI “slop” of a turtle riding BART while wearing headphones but what would you do with that?

And in my defense, it didn’t seem like I was the only one wondering about that. Stories and posts are popping up about how to use AI. Or suggestions for effective “prompts” to ask AI to do something for you.

To me it implied that AI developers are working hard to find a way to convince everyday users and business owners that there is a reason to use AI in their lives. Among others, the U.S. Small Business Administration is pushing its guide, AI for Small Businesses.

Which is fine. But how does that affect me?

Which is when we decided to paint the house.

We did what one does. We went to the paint store and picked out some teeny-weeny samples of colors and held them up to the wall.

We also tried one of the paint company’s computer tool. Supposedly, you could create an image of how your house would look after it was painted.

It was an infuriating mess. The program put the wonk back in wonky. We gave up.

Then our neighbor came over. Let’s just say she is someone who knows things.

They are putting an ADU (Accessory Dwelling Unit) in the back yard.

“Want to see?” She said, and held up a photo of a lovely little cottage with a front deck, French doors and a shade for the porch.

The thing is, none of that was in their back yard. The space is still a broken down garage.

“AI,” she said. “I just told it what to do.”

The next morning I had a thought. I took a photo of the house, loaded it into Gemini and told it to paint the house in a specific color from our paint chips.

It did. In two minutes. I took the chips and loaded in one after another. I created the house in all sorts of colors.

So fine. AI is a better paint simulator.

But there was a problem.

Our house has shutters. And someone in the family is not a fan. Adamantly. There are to be no shutters. Period.

OK, so I asked Gemini, show the new paint without the shutters.

It did, immediately.

But then there was another problem. Without the shutters the house looked like a big blank wall. With new paint, of course, but still pretty dull.

So I asked, “Other than shutters, what would you suggest to dress up the windows?”

And Gemini had three suggestions, two of which were either dumb or impractical. But the third, adding wider architectural trim around the windows, actually looked pretty great.

So we’re probably doing that.

And my point is, AI not only created images and let us change them, it also had some really thoughtful suggestions, almost like a conversation. I can see how I might use it for advice in other situations, like the trip we are planning.

So, maybe I’m not there yet, but I get it. AI makes sense.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some coding to do.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Threads and Twitter: @cwnevius

Let’s don’t kid ourselves. Professional athletes are EXTREMELY aware which of their games is on national television.

Players, coaches and the suits upstairs all know.

Everybody is watching. At least everyone that counts.

And if you are way out here on the left coast, like the Warriors, and your games start at 10:30 p.m. in the east, it may be one of the few chances to make an impression. Some pointy-headed pundits may only see a handful of your games. This may be when they form what they think of you.

Which may explain, or at least start to explain, Steve Kerr’s out-of-Bobby-Knight’s-body experience in Sunday’s loss to the Knicks.

At the time the Dubs — insert paragraph here about injuries, thin roster etc. — were in the process of blowing a 21-point lead. In Madison Freaking Square Garden. In front of a national television audience — and Charles Barkley.

The upshot is that when rookie Will Richard turned the ball over in the second quarter (More on that later) Kerr blew up like a Little League dad.

He yelled at Richard during the game and again when there was a time out.

“The ball,” Kerr screamed, “is everything.”

Two points: First, that is such a quasi-Zen Steve Kerr thing to say. And second “The ball is everything” is clearly a T-shirt just waiting to be printed.

But the takeaway from the game wasn’t that the Warriors collapsed and lost. Or that there were promising signs from young newcomers.

It was exactly what Kerr didn’t want. With a network game there are always more cameras and microphones. So everyone was able to see and hear Kerr acting like someone unreasonable and out of control. Expect another concerned call from his mother.

Everybody said he was over the top. Including Kerr.

“I kind of regret losing my composure a little bit there,” Kerr told reporters after the game.

I’m sure he does. Because, as he basically admits, it was a wild over-reaction.

But what I’d really like to know is how many viewers, including the insiders, watched that and said:

“That’s it. He’s done. He needs to step away from coaching, at least for a while.”

On some level, of course, the old argument can be made. The guy is just hyper-competitive. He coaches every game like it is the NBA finals. How do you think he won four NBA Championships?

Fine. Never give up. But c’mon, these aren’t the 2017 Warriors, going 61-1 in the playoffs.

This is a collection of mid-level talent. They’re out there giving it their all. But at the end of the day they turn out to fit Barkley’s definition of a JAG. (Just another guy.)

And yes, we’re just holding space for the return of Steph Curry, but frankly that wasn’t much fun to watch when he was playing either. It was two guys mugging Curry and everyone else running in small circles under the hoop.

In the long view we have to confront the likelihood of a very difficult re-build with Curry as the focus. Blockbuster trades need money and assets and the Warriors would have to make painful decisions on both to make something work.

This might be Kerr’s reality for the future. And it looks like it is wearing on him.

Hopefully he’ll take a good, honest look at the play that set him off and realize that he’s grinding way too hard on his players and himself.

It was definitely a loose turnover but nothing Draymond Green doesn’t do three times a game.

Look at it (above). Brandin Podziemski picks up a steal and Richard immediately sprints to the hoop. Podziemski rushes the pass, it’s too long and Richard just manages to get his hands on it, running full tilt, one step from the end line.

As he flies out of bounds, he throws the ball backwards, behind his back, It bounces off Podziemski and is corralled by the Knicks.

Number one, I thought it was a pretty impressive for Richard to even get to the ball. Second, throwing the ball back blindly at your end of the court? Not a bad risk. I was taught never to save a ball in bounds at the opponent’s end of the floor, but this seems an acceptable gamble.

Kerr’s reaction speaks volumes. This is in the second quarter remember, not crunch time.

He said afterward he thought Richard could have stopped. In one step while running full speed? Now THAT would have been impressive.

And by the way, how’s that confidence doing rookie? Nothing like getting belittled in front of the entire country. You know they saw that back home. It was uncomfortable enough that Podziemski put an arm around Richard’s shoulder in support.

The sad reality is — barring a miracle — this team is not going to live up to Kerr’s standards.

And that’s fine. He’s had a nice long run, a glittering array of championship rings and medals and a sure Hall of Fame induction waiting.

But . . .

As you know there’s been a lot of speculation about if Kerr wants to sign a new contract and continue to coach this team.

Scenes like this are making the decision for him.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Twitter and Threads: @cwnevius