Giants Lose. Season Over.

Yesterday my old man and I attended the Giants/Dodgers game at Dodger stadium. This isn't a recap; you know what happened. My question is this: where does this game fall on Bill Simmons' Levels of Losing scale? A Broken Axel? Stomach Punch? This Can't Be Happening? Guillotine? Maybe a little of all of them. There's no worse feeling than being in a stadium full of people you hate and then end up walking out of the place as they laugh at you. It reminds me of the time in 2nd grade when I was called up to the front of my class to testify as to whether or not Santa Claus was real, then having my teacher correct me in front of everyone when I informed them that he was most certainly responsible for my gifts every Christmas. I wanted to pull a Pearl Jam "Jeremy" that day, and felt much the same last night as we walked out of there - looking at celebrating Dodger fans and wondering to myself things like "if I hit that guy as hard as I could right under his nose, would I kill him instantly like Bruce Willis did in "The Last Boyscout?" And my poor father, shaking his head and saying things I've heard too many times before, like "they needed pitching today. They've needed pitching ever since I moved to The City in 1968."

What a bad day. But, you live to fight again. The life of a Giants fan.