Generally speaking, my favorite Bay Area bike/skateboard videos involve a bunch of clips depicting the more ridiculous parts of urban life.  ”fresh mucus,” which was “made with a mound of shit”, essentially perfects this.  Sure, early shots of the Bay Bridge, freaked out cats, art openings, and Mr. T posters seem average.  But then comes the finale, when they sneak in a clip of some asshole at 8th and Mission hammering away at a u-lock while some Financial District woman walks by, totally oblivious, chatting away on her cellphone.

Ahhhh San Francisco: where smart phones are more important than bicycles.

 Glenn Burke 

On the heel of World Series fever here in San Francisco, a different look at the game is being screened tonight in the Castro Theatre. Out: The Glenn Burke Story is a film about a man who made two major marks on major league baseball history  way back in 1977. At the end of the season in '77, after former Giants coach and then teammate Dusty Baker hit a homerun, Burke gave Baker a high-five. Later when Burke hit his first homerun, Baker returned the high-five favor, cementing Burke as the creator of the now universal sign of recognition, triumph, and comradery— the high-five. Also in 1977 (1977 people!) Burke became the first openly gay baseball player in MLB history when he disclosed to teammates and the managerial staff at the Los Angeles Dodgers that he was a homosexual.  At the time, one of the most conservative teams in baseball, the Dodgers went so far as to offer Burke a bonus to get married to a woman to keep his homosexuality a secret, which he declined. He later dated Dodgers Manager Tony Lasorda's estranged gay son before being traded to the Oakland Athletics, despite helping the Dodgers make it to the World Series. As if we needed another reason to hate the Dodgers…

To this day, Burke is the only openly gay baseball player in MLB history. Go see his story tonight.

More Info: Movie trailer.  Order tickets.

Not to be all tumblry here, but Leslie over at Squid Pro Quo has put out one of the most important pieces of journalism I've read all year:

9) You’re in the very outer circle, but you’re definitely in the shit. You know this because you are starting to see little old ladies collecting aluminum cans. Here lies what I like to refer to as Parade Townies, lurkers that aren’t so much interested in celebrating baseball as they are joining in a spectacle. You have RV’s blasting music with people dancing on top. They’re charging $5 to use their restroom. They had the foresight to get there early enough to find parking for their land boats but didn’t care enough about the parade’s purpose to get any closer.

8) As you move inward, you start noticing that everyone is blazing. Hard. All of a sudden you want a hot dog and to be at home watching Planet Earth.

7) Here is where you start seeing an abundance of impromptu street vendors selling overpriced giants merch. A child is crying for an $8 mylar balloon. You buy a $50 t-shirt from a gypsy. You’ll notice later that it’s not real and actually says “Gliants”. Four loko flows freely. 

Now, I don't want to spoil the rest, but let's just say that there are drunk girls, pregnancy, and unbearable first world problems.

Read on…

Sadly it doesn't look like anyone tried to light buses on fire back in 1958 when the Giants moved into town, but “Foghorn Murphy” was on the scene.  Wait, who?

There's not a lot of details on this guy and what he did.  This question was posted on a bulletin board in 2003:

Any information on the real “Foghorn” Murphy S.F “sporting” figure??

Hello, Does anyone have any information on “Foghorn” Murphy, who got his nickname by opening baseball games and rodeos using a loud instrument. Something of a quasi-underworld figure, he was quite a flamboyant and well known character in San Francisco during the 1920's. I'm also curious about his real name. 

The only answer that turned up wasn't particularly great:

I met a “Foghorn” Murphy in L.A in Jan. 1950. He was running a diner that was along Riverside Drive. It was the old type dining car that was so common at that time. He said he got his name from selling newspapers on the streets of San Francisco in the fog. he was quite a character.

After digging around for a while, I found out he used to work as an announcer at the Livermore Rodeo, but there wasn't much on his baseball career.  All I could find was this bit in April 1971 edition of Baseball Digest in the “Down Memory Lane” column by Warren Brown:

In my small boy existence, and even during my beginnings as a baseball writer for pay in San Francisco, there was a ballyhoo specialist known as “Foghorn” Murphy.

In baseball regalia, equipped with a megaphone, and astride a horse he would ride up and down Market Street each time there was a ball game scheduled, yelling about today's game.

Naturally “Foghorn” practiced knocked himself out on Opening Day.

After I moved first to New York and later to Chicago in the early '20's I lost track of “Foghorn.”

I caught up with him, or he with me, in Los Angeles when I was there with the Cubs on a training trip.

By that time, believe it or not, “Foghorn” had become wealthy enough to own a club of his own, had he cared to do so.

Like Emperor Norton, “Foghorn's” notoriety in San Francisco was so extensive that he was even a topic of a piece in the satire magazine The Wasp:

“Foghorn’s” Voice is Stilled

“Foghorn” Murphy’s famous voice is stilled.

The man who has made himself famous riding horseback has gone to work.

He is a fireman—a job that will not require the use of his lusty lungs or his deep bass voice.

Recently “Foghorn” applied for a place in the San Francisco department and after a short wait they made him a full-fledged fireman.

He is wearing the blue uniform now instead of the ball uniform that he wore in his famous horseback rides through the city. So for the present, at least, the voice of the celebrated “Foghorn” will cease to resound through busy downtown streets.

There you have it, San Francisco used to have a guy galloping up and down Market Street yelling at people who may or may not have opened a diner in LA.  Should the Giants honor his memory Opening Day 2011 by putting some lunatic from the TL on a horse for the day?  I have to vote yes.

(photos via What's on the 6th floor?)