Sharing With My Brother
My dad can’t make it back from Venezuela for the playoffs – my first in the major leagues. But my 31-year-old brother Edward is here. I call him my brother because he grew up in my house. He’s actually my cousin. My uncle couldn’t raise him so my mother took him in, and we’ve been like brothers ever since. I love him. He hadn’t taken a vacation from his job for five years, so his boss told him to go visit me and see the San Francisco Giants. He arrived three weeks ago – his first visit to the United States. He’s been having a great time in San Francisco. He can’t believe how beautiful it is. I’m so happy he can be here, especially for this weekend. He never played baseball himself, but he loves it.
Pablo and Marco Scutaro have talked to me a little bit about what the playoffs are like. They told me things change in the playoffs – every single pitch counts, nobody’s thinking about their own numbers, all that matters is figuring out how to win. But at the same time, you have to keep doing what you’ve done all season. Not put more pressure on yourself. I’ve played in championship games back home. We had 20,000 people in the stadium instead of 40,000 like here. But the 20,000 are really, really loud. So I think I have at least some sense of what it will be like.
I don’t know when I’ll be playing. But I’m ready. I’m glad we have practice this afternoon so we can all be together and have our usual routines. This team has a great combination of energy and calm. I can’t imagine anything rattling anyone. I’m really thankful to be a part of it, and to have my wife, son and brother here at the park sharing it with me.