The perfection of Brandon Crawford’s San Francisco Giants career

SAN FRANCISCO — Brandon Crawford stood on the field after Sunday’s 5-2 loss to the Los Angeles Dodgers, looked around at the crowd and addressed the fans.

“From the grand slam in Milwaukee to the World Series wins to today, you guys always showed me love. My family and I appreciated so much. You guys are the best,” he said.

He was telling the story of his career. From the first hit to the World Series championships to that moment where his baseball career is uncertain and he’s addressing an Oracle Park crowd. Those are the bookends of a long, successful career. Maybe Crawford will play again, and maybe he won’t. He told reporters after the game that he typically needs a month to evaluate his plans for the future.

That’s the accurate timeline, alright. It starts with an unlikely grand slam. It progresses into some unlikely championships and some of the best times a fan base can ever enjoy. What an outstanding career. What a series of contributions for a very grateful franchise and fan base.

That doesn’t quite describe the perfection of Crawford’s San Francisco Giants career, though. No, to understand the perfection of Brandon Crawford’s career, you have to go back even further. Way before a rookie hit a grand slam for his first major-league hit, there was an adorable little fella in a local newspaper.

To describe the perfection of Crawford’s Giants career, you have to study Li’l Glum Crawford.

In 1992, the “San Francisco Chronicle” sent photographer Tom Levy to Candlestick Park to cover what was supposed to be the last Giants game in San Francisco history. They were gone, signed, sealed and delivered to Tampa, who had a fancy new “domed” ballpark that would surely stand the test of time. Levy snapped a picture of a 5-year-old kid with chocolate malt on his face. He was next to a sign that read, “Mr. White: Do what’s right! Keep Giants in SF.” The kid looked glum. And for good reason.

The situational awareness of most 5-year-olds is debatable, but they half-understand the concept of “gone forever.” The Giants were going to go away forever. Giants games are where he got to chew on the tiny wooden spoon that came with the chocolate malt. It’s where the baseball players from his cards came to life. It was the baseball-god equivalent of Jack Handey’s trip to Disneyland, a burned-down warehouse where the happiest place on earth was supposed to be.

The perfection of Crawford’s Giants career starts with him being at the nexus of Giants and no Giants. There’s only one player who could have looked around Oracle Park and understood how awesome and improbable it all was. That one player is Li’l Glum Crawford, all grown up. He knows instinctively that San Francisco baseball didn’t have to keep happening. But it did.

Now look at the picture again, and realize it’s a kid who wants to be a baseball player when he grows up. Of course he does. We all did. I was the best player on the 1982…