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People ride bikes

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by Amanda Witherell

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Record bike attendance at Outside Lands Friday night

I volunteered for the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition on Friday evening, valet parking bikes during the Outside Lands concert in Golden Gate Park. It was busy: Radiohead fans ride bikes. Even though it was a hustle to move all the bikes and keep the waiting line flowing, it was a remarkably smooth and stress-free experience, which I’ll chalk up to the healthful effects of cycling and a general good feeling from being around bikes. People walking by the pen of parked bikes kept commenting on how it was a sight to see so many bikes in one place.

According to a “thank you” email I got from the SFBC today all previous bike parking records were broken. We parked over 1,000 bikes on Friday night, and over 2,400 for the entire weekend. As I was riding my own bike out of the foggy park on Friday night I saw thousands more bikes locked all over the containment fencing of the festival, meaning a significant number of people cycled to the festival.

And just today the Chron noticed that more people are riding bikes.

Sports: Top ten draft-pick fizzlers

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By A.J. Hayes

From all indications, recently signed Giants No. 1 draft pick Buster Posey is headed to stardom. In his final season at Florida State, Posey, winner of the 2008 Golden Spikes Award for top college player, batted .463, with 26 home runs and 93 RBI. So it’s really not all that shocking that the club shelled out a franchise record $6.2 million bonus this past weekend to acquire the 22-year old catcher’s first professional autograph.

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He’s saying all the right things too: “Right now, I’m happy to be a San Francisco Giant. My job is to play as hard as I can, and the rest takes care of itself. I want to be an impact player for the Giants for a long time.”

But as we’ve seen before in these parts, a No. 1 draft status does not always equal success. For every Will Clark (No. 1 pick in 1985) and Matt Williams (1986), the Giants have had their share of duds. Jessie Reid (1980), Steve Hosey (1989), Adam Hyzdu (1990), and more recently Tony Torcato (1998) and David Aardsma were all No. 1’s who got lost in the fog for the orange and black.

And it’s not just the Giants. Every club in the Bay Area from every sport has had their share of phenoms who have flopped.

Now, we hope Buster becomes a bust out-star, and not a bust.

But if for some reason Posey fails to make the grade, he won’t be without plenty of company.

Here’s a look at the Top 10 draft duds in Bay Area sports history.

Stretch your hole and your mind will follow: Meet Stephen Boyer

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Intrepid reporter Justin Juul hits the streets each week for our Meet Your Neighbors series, interviewing the Bay Area folks you’d like to know most.

Stephen Boyer is an up-and-cumming writer/blogger/porn star. To hear about his sexcapades, stop into his next reading at Dog Eared Books on August 21st. And if want to read his blog or see him take a foot up the ass, just follow the links below.

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SFBG: The first time I ever met you was at a party in Oakland. You came out of nowhere, grabbed my girlfriend and I by the shoulders and said, “Oh my god you guys, I just got fucked behind the bar!” Is that how you normally introduce yourself to people?

Stephen Boyer: Ha! Actually, I think we met in Dolores Park. I remember because you and all your friends were trying to convince a pregnant girl to eat a pot brownie. I don’t really remember the Oakland party though, and I could have my dates jumbled. That’s pretty like me. But yeah, I am usually pretty up front with what’s happening in my life. It helps me feel better… that and writing.

SFBG: So what do you usually write about?

Boyer: The major topics I’m taking on right now are shit, piss, and lots of sex. I’m also doing my part to help define a fag/male movement in response to all the feminist bullshit I was forced to sit through in college. You know, because white men are sooooo privileged (sarcasm!).

SFBG: Is it always sex stuff, then?

Boyer: A lot of it is. But not everything. The sex part comes from being young and horny in a country with lots of inhibitions and secrets. Plus, sex sells.

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SFBG: What compels you to share that part of yourself with others?

Boyer: Well, I like stretching my brain as well as my asshole and I want to help others do the same. Basically, I really enjoy learning about other peoples’ fetishes and helping them enact their desires. I have a shit load of desire and I’ve spent the better part of the past five years working through it to learn about what turns me on. I’ve realized that learning about other peoples desires and stretching my preconceived notions about what is and isn’t sexy is my biggest turn on. Well, that and orgies. And to return to the question, I want to make money.

SFBG: What’s the craziest, dirtiest thing you’ve ever done?

G-List: 6 laundromats that don’t suck

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The G-List is a weekly list of things to do and places to go by Justin Juul

As a Los Angeles transplant, I enjoy talking shit on my old hometown even more than most San Franciscans. But there are a few perks to living in the city of douchebags that a man doesn’t notice until he’s moved on. For starters, the weather is better there. No getting around that. But there are other reasons I occasionally consider going back to hell and one of them is so constantly irritating I could die. Talkin’ bout laundry ya’ll.

Every apartment I had in LA came with a laundry room. But not here. Of the five crappy apartments I’ve had in SF, only two of them have had laundry facilities. The building I live in now is the worst. Not only does it lack an onsite washroom, but the nearest Laundromat is almost a mile away. Which doesn’t really matter because I wouldn’t want to go there even if it was right next door. The thing about doing your laundry at Laundromats is that it takes almost an entire day. You have to stuff your shit in bags, truck the whole pile down the street, and then sit and twiddle your thumbs until it’s done. Doing laundry is pretty much the most boring shit ever –a total waste of time. Unless, of course, you know where to go.

All of the Laundromats on this list have special features you won’t find at regular places. They make washing fun.

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Brainwash
Drink beer, eat food, and wash the stains from your soiled sheets with stand up comedians, SoMa punks, and a bunch of crazy swingers from a nearby Sex Cult. Brainwash is the best show in town because it’s the only Laundromat that serves alcohol. Plus, the music is usually pretty rad and the wi-fi is free.
1122 Folsom, SF

Bonds humiliates the press (again)

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By A.J. Hayes

Barry Bonds may not have taken a baseball swing in anger in nearly a year, but it was clear last weekend that the Homerun King’s media puppetry skills are in classic form.

Bonds made an unannounced appearance at AT&T Park Saturday prior to the Giants game against the Los Angles Dodgers and despite the fact that no team – including San Francisco – has dared sign the baggage-laden tarnished superstar this season, he was treated like a returning hero.

Physically Bonds looked fantastic. He doesn’t seem to be fretting his impending Federal perjury trial. Bonds hasn’t lost the “40 pounds” that many in the media had speculated. When he walked onto the field wearing a Giants cap and his familiar No. 25, he looked prepared to rip a ball into McCovey Cove.

But there would be no home run heroics this night. Under his orange and black togs, Barry was outfitted in charcoal colored slacks and a custom-tailored, blue striped dress shirt with contrasting white French cuffs.

No, on this night, Bonds would have to settle for his second favorite hobby, making the media look like hapless fools.

Two turntables and a saxophone: Meet DJ Purple

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Intrepid reporter Justin Juul hits the streets each week for our Meet Your Neighbors series, interviewing the Bay Area folks you’d like to know most.

Steve Hays, AKA DJ Purple, is a Karaoke DJ — or a KJ as they’re called — who throws dance parties throughout the Bay Area. Forget everything you thought you knew about the karaoke scene. There are no sad old men or drunk frat boys singing Dave Matthews songs at DJ Purple’s shows. Serious music-lovin’ hipsters flock nightly to places like Jacks in The Mission – across the street from where this interview (and drive by shooting!) took place — to sing their favorite heavy metal, rap, and eighties pop tunes while DJ Purple plays back up on the sax. This ain’t your daddy’s karaoke show!!!

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SFBG: So what’s your deal?
DJ Purple: I’m Steve Hays, otherwise known as DJ Purple Hays. Did you get that name connection there?

SFBG: Actually I think I just realized it a minute ago. It’s the Jimi Hendrix thing, right?
DJ Purple: Yeah, it’s more of a Jimi Hendrix connection as opposed to drugs or whatever. I actually started using the name back when I was in my first band. I was a little sophomore kid and there was this band of seniors I knew. I used to hang out at their shows and one day I was like “Can I play?” They asked me what my name was and when I said Hays, they were like “Oh let’s call him Purple.” I had no idea what they were talking about at the time.

SFBG: So then you just used it as your DJ name too?
DJ Purple: Yeah, well when I started deejaying -I used to just be a regular DJ, by the way; not a KJ like I am now- I played around with a few names. But then I made a flyer one night and left a stack of them at the bar while I was performing. Some guy picked one up and yelled “DJ Purple, No Way!!!” I figured if the name could get that kind of response out of some random guy at a bar, then it must be good.

SFBG: How long have you been doing the karaoke thing?
DJ Purple: I got inspired by a show I saw in 2002 in Palo Alto. It was a karaoke dance party as opposed to just your standard karaoke show. So this KJ had somehow managed to sell out a 500-person venue with a karaoke show. People from all over the Bay Area came to see him. It was awesome.

SFBG: So what exactly is the difference between a normal karaoke show and what you do?
DJ Purple: Well, 99% of the karaoke shows out there are kind of boring. As a real DJ, my focus is on moving the crowd. I like to get people dancing. So one of the main differences is that I don’t have slow songs in my book. The slow songs always ruin things. Like, you’ll get some high-energy stuff for a minute but then someone will stand up and sing “Yesterday” by the Beatles and the whole place will yawn. There are always weird pauses between songs too. I’m a DJ so I keep things moving. Each song transitions into the next and I do my best to keep the energy up.

Dinosaur tattoos are the new tramp stamp: Meet Sam Kehl

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Intrepid reporter Justin Juul hits the streets each week for our Meet Your Neighbors series, interviewing the Bay Area folks you’d like to know most.

Sam Kehl is a singer/producer/DJ from Seattle who I randomly met on a camping trip in Morrow Bay. He was wearing a pink hat, a leather jacket, and really really cool sneakers, which was odd because all his friends were decked out in REI gear. Obviously the dude had never been camping before, and I don’t think he’ll ever go again. I mean, a man can drink whiskey and use his shoes for a pillow right here at home can’t he?

I’ve gotten to know Sam pretty well over the past few months and although he may suck at camping, I can say without a doubt that he rules at being weird. Oh and his music is really rad too. Check him out at The Eagle Tavern on August 7th at 10pm where he’ll be performing as both Samuelroy and Samnation. Listen to his tunes here. X-Ray Press and No New York will also be performing.

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SFBG: So what’s your deal?
Sam Kehl: Hi, my name is Samuel Kehl. It’s spelled K-E-H-L. So I’m not related to the face products, Kiehl’s, or whatever. Sometimes people put me on flyers and spell my name like the face product. I hate that. Kehl is a German name, but I’m from Seattle.

SFBG: Why did you move to San Francisco?
Kehl: Well, San Francisco has a particular history of being queer and open-minded and there’s always been a lot of electronic music here. Seattle just got boring and I had already lived in New York so I decided to check out SF, mostly for the music.

SFBG: Any bands in particular?
Kehl: Well, I know there’s a lot of really really early experimental stuff here and all those Drum-&-Base people like UFO and DJ Abstract. There are others too, but I can’t remember. And um, Safety Scissors, Eats Tapes. Tiger Beats records. OK, so, not all the people I like are from SF, but I had already done New York and Seattle and I’m petrified of LA, so, well, I came here to do my music.

SFBG: So what’s up with your music anyway? How’d you develop your sound?
Kehl: I’ve been doing music for a really long time and I’ve been deejaying for exactly ten years. I don’t have any musical training, but I had choir and I sang in college. Oh and I played cello too. So I had all these different musical interests and then bands like the Postal Service and The Blow came out and I was like oh God, why don’t I do that? Why don’t I sing and make electronic music? Most of the electronic music that had vocals at that time was really bad. I was more into bands like Plaid and Aphex Twin, and Boards of Canada, like Warp Records stuff, you know? It didn’t really have vocals, but then those other bands came out, and I was like, Oh of course. What the hell? I should do that.

Aloha SF! Aloha Fest chills out — pics

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By Ariel Soto

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Twirling hips, shaved ice and the aloha spirit filled the Precidio this weekend for the 14th Annual Aloha Festival. Hula dancers of all ages took to the stage to perform the fluid and precise dance famous of the tropical islands of Hawaii. Everyone seemed to be wearing flowers in their hair (appropriate not only for a Hawaii festival, but also perfect for a San Francisco event) and even a few canine friends got into the aloha mood. Visitors to the festival enjoyed munching on authentic Hawaiian fare and browsed amongst the numerous booths selling everything from bolts of blooming cloth, to cookies packed with macadamia nuts and even hula dancing dolls. What a perfect way to welcome in the misty Indian summer of an SF August than with such a sunny celebration as the Aloha Festival!

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SPORTS: Roberto Kelly has plenty to tell the kids

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By A.J. Hayes

Roberto Kelly had all the ear-marks of a pre-fab Yankee Legend when he broke in with the Bronx Bombers in the late 1980s.

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As a NY Yankee

Scouts drooled over the young center fielder, touting him as the next great “Five-Tool Player.” Kelly hit for high average; whacked home runs; he was a graceful fielder; possessed a killer arm and ran like the wind.

In other words, the Panama native – who is currently a San Francisco Giants coach – was stacking up to be the next Joe DiMaggio or Mickey Mantle.

In his first game in the majors in 1987, a 22- year old Kelly walked out to center field at Yankee Stadium and was greeted by 45,347 fans. Despite knocking knees, Kelly brashly stole two bases and scored a run in New York’s 4-0 win over the visiting Royals. The speedy outfielder quickly became a fan favorite.

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As a Cincinnati Red

“The first day I made it to the big leagues was unbelievable,” Kelly told us recently. “You’re talking about a kid coming from Panama who didn’t know if he was going to make it, and then you walk out and see a packed Yankee Stadium. It was that defining moment for your career.”

It didn’t seem outlandish at all to believe that that Kelly world star for the Yankees for the next dozen seasons and end his career in pinstripes – just as Mr. Coffee and the Mick had done before him.

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As an Atlanta Brave

Well, technically all that did occur – but it didn’t exactly play out as scripted.

The best pizza? Yagottabekiddin.

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Forget the truffles, Bauer …

The Chron’s Michael Bauer claims to have found the six best pizza places in the Bay Area, and they are all so chi-chi I can’t imagine eating at any of them. Condsider this comment on Pizzaiolo:

The pizza I remember most fondly is topped with potatoes, fontina and truffles, but there are always several even further afield: delicate squash with Gorgonzola, or cherry tomatoes with squid and aioli.

No, no, no: You don’t put squash or squid and aioli on a pizza. You don’t put truffles on pizza, either.

You want the world’s best pizza? Here it is. I grew up eating it, I still know the phone number by heart, the guy who made me pizza when I was a kid still owns the place and there are no goddam squash or truffles or fontina (whatever the hell that is) in the place. I wish he delivered to Bernal Heights.

[Editor’s Note: PS — for the record, here are the Guardian’s favorite local pizza palaces, from our Feast guide of Fall 2007.]

Best of the Bay runners up!

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Due to technical difficulties, aka my five-day celebratory bender, we’ve been unable to present the runners up in hotly contested Best of the Bay Food and Drink, Nightlife and Entertainment, and Shopping categories. Until now! Check ’em out!

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Puppy brutally stabbed to death

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First there was this news about a horrifying “puppy mill” being busted in Los Gatos — then we got this release. Please contact Lt. Le-Ellis Brown of Animal Care & Control at (415) 554-9400 if you have any information!

Animal Care & Control Seeking Info on Stabbing Of Foster Puppy

San Francisco – San Francisco Animal Care & Control is asking the public for help to find the person – or persons – responsible for stabbing to death a seven-month-old puppy in foster care with Grateful Dogs Rescue.

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Pogo

The puppy – named Pogo – was being exercised by his foster parent at Ocean Beach in San Francisco at Sunset on July 22. He disappeared behind a sand dune and wasn’t seen again until his body was discovered dumped in an unincorporated area of the Bayview on the morning of July 29. Pogo had been brutally stabbed to death.

Pogo was a friendly, trusting pit bull puppy who had been taken from Animal Care & Control – SF’s open-door animal shelter – by Grateful Dogs Rescue. He had a genetic defect that required the amputation of one hind leg. The surgery to remove the leg was partially donated by San Francisco Veterinary Specialists – Pogo had fully recovered and was expected to lead a long and normal life. Grateful Dogs Rescue is one of the most active animal rescue groups working with Animal Care & Control. Their volunteers have taken and re-homed hundreds of needy dogs from the shelter.

Pogo was a brindle pit bull puppy with a white blaze, white around his nose and a white chest. He weighed approximately 40 pounds, was missing his right rear leg and was wearing a red collar when last seen.

Anyone with information about Pogo’s death – or info on Pogo being taken from Ocean Beach – should call Animal Care & Control at (415) 554-9400. A $2000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the perpetrator has been established by Grateful Dogs Rescue and The Friends of SF Animal Care & Control. To contribute to the reward fund, please contact Animal Care & Control at (415) 554-9412.

Sports: Down for the count

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By A.J. Hayes

Our limited experience atop a pitching mound – and the corresponding disastrous results – precludes us from properly evaluating major league baseball pitch counts.

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Tim Lincecum

But based on Saturday’s buzz kill of a finish at AT&T Park – Arizona’s 5-3 comeback win over San Francisco – one thing is abundantly clear. If the Giants are going to continue to keep a clicker on young star Tim Lincecum’s deliveries and routinely yank him from the game after a certain number of throws – the club is going to have to come up with a better mound contingency plan when he exits

Any more results like Saturday’s eighth inning implosion and the Giants risk a redux Chicago’s 1978 disco demolition night, sans burning wax platters of Donna Summer’s Greatest Hits.

As usual, Lincecum was rolling right along, striking out a career high 13 batters through seven innings, when he was abruptly yanked from the game. It wasn’t because Arizona had mounted a rally or Lincecum appeared to be gassed – he had just struck out the side in the seventh. No he was sent to soap up with Irish Spring because he had thrown 111 pitches and the team feared possible injury if he pitched any more.

Lincecum had thrown 121 pitchers in his previous game and San Francisco manager Bruce Bochy didn’t want to push the All-Star.

“The consensus was he was coming off a high pitch game. We’ve got to look after him a little bit here in the second half,” Bochy was quoted as saying.

The fact that he seemed to be throwing with just as much velocity as he had in the early innings or that Lincecum has never injured his throwing arm didn’t seem to figure into the decision. He was gone and that was that. Lincecum was yanked, and the beleagued reliever Tyler Walker was summoned.

What happened next was nearly sadly predictable as watching a gaggle of besodden twenty-something in tight fitting denim wobble down Union street on a given weekend night.

Drive-by clowning

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By Sam Devine

“I sit and watch as tears go by …” –Mick Jagger

It was a lovely day on Columbus Avenue in the heart of North Beach. No one suspected they were about to be clowned.

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There was hardly a cloud in the sky and the heat wave had brought a lunch-hour rush of tourists and locals alike to the street-side tables of North Beach. At Café Grecco, patrons sipped coffee on the shaded side of their tables – the first inkling of shade that the awnings would provide for the day. A family chatted while an old man next to them hunched over a newspaper.

The noises of road construction drifted up the hill from Broadway and foot traffic pressed through itself on the sidewalk. A motorcyclist had just pulled his ‘70s model Beamer away from the curb when the distinct, sound of Smokey Robinson’s “Tears of a Clown” came marching through the gentle breeze.

A white, boxy Scion cruised by, calliope and drums blasting from its open windows. Behind the wheel was a man in a plain T-shirt, probably in his early 40’s, wearing a clown nose and white and black frowning make-up around his mouth.

“Wow!” said a child.

“How ‘bout that?” said his mother.

“You can’t make something like that up,” said a young man nearby.

The old man looked up from his paper, saw nothing, furrowed his brow and then hunkered back into his pages of print.

Shootin’ your mouth off at the Arms

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By Phil Eil

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The Jackson Arms Shooting Range in South San Francisco has plenty of promotions. Mondays are Ladies Night (half-priced lane for ladies), Tuesdays are N.R.A. Night (half-priced lane for cardholders), Wednesdays are Law Enforcement Night (second shooter is free with a law enforcement I.D.), and Thursdays are Group Night (third shooter is free, free handgun rental). But while the perks for cops, ladies, groups, and gunsters are nice, the real reason to go to Jackson Arms isn’t their marketing scheme. It’s the noise. It’s loud in there — terrifyingly, front-row-at-a-Van-Halen-concert loud. It’s so loud that when you step up to shoot, there’s no way anyone can hear what you’re saying.

Why does this matter?

Ultimate Kink Surrender (NSFW)

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The wrestlers in action.

I ride my bicycle past the Armory just about everyday and I’ve always wanted to get inside for a tour, particularly since this magnificent, historically significant building was purchased by fetish porn purveyor Kink.com. So when the company invited me to attend Friday night’s taping of its Ultimate Surrender erotic wrestling matches, I couldn’t resist.

It might have been the weirdest event I’ve ever covered, except for the fact that it seemed so, well, normal. Only in super freaky San Francisco do we take in stride hardcore, kinky porn being made in a building once used as the staging ground for soldiers headed to war and National Guard troops suppressing local labor and social justice movement actions.

Attendees (mostly invited journalists and Kink subscribers) were treated to an open bar and got a chance to mix and mingle with the four young women who participated in this three-round tag team wrestling match, all porn actresses with an athletic side, all very sweet and charming and fairly matter-of-fact about the spectacle in which they starred.

Burning, burning for you: Crucible Fire Arts Festival lights up East Bay

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Guardian videographer Ariel Soto visited the Crucible’s 8th Annual Fire Arts Festival (and talked to some firemen!) for SFBG TV.

Sports: Jersey Boys will be boys

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By A.J. Hayes

They haven’t been teammates since Jimmy Carter’s swansong year in the White House, but when John “The Count” Montefusco and Ed “Ho-Ho” Halicki got together this past weekend and saucily ribbed each other like a couple of high schoolers – one might have suspected the tart-tongued former Giants pitchers were still Candlestick Park locker mates.

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“So when we got on the plane I flushed Ed’s socks down the toilet!” John Montefusco, on one of his Giants days pranks

Though they haven’t spent much time together since 1980, Halicki and Montefusco have a world in common.

Each former pitcher was born in New Jersey in 1950. They were both signed by Giants scout Buddy Kerr in 1972 and made their major league debuts with San Francisco two seasons later in 1974. Each was a classic clubhouse prankster.

And each ace threw no-hitters for the Giants. Halicki, fired his, a 6-0 win over the New York Mets at Candlestick Park on August 24, 1975. The Count, earned his no-no, a 9-0 domination of the Braves in Atlanta on September 29, 1976.

No Giant has pitched a no-hitter since Montefusco’s bicentennial year masterpiece.

In between bites of mini-pizzas, pigs- in- blankets and other hors d’oeuvres and reacquainting themselves with former teammates such as Jim Barr, Mike Sadek, Tom Griffin and Elias Sosa – Ho-Ho and the Count told us what it was to be a Giant in the 1970s.

Montefusco, on hiding Halicki’s socks in St. Louis:

Ed had just beat St. Louis on the road in 1977 and we were headed to the airport to fly back to San Francisco. Ed had a date that night back in the city and boy, was he dressed to kill. He was hot and all sweaty and was the last one to come out of the locker room and he’s yelling ‘I can’t find my socks!’ He’s looking all around and going, ‘someone took my fucking socks!’ – so he ended up putting on these bright orange sanitaries (baseball socks) that we started wearing as part of the uniform that season – so he’s all dressed to kill, but he’s got on these orange socks… well he gets on the bus and the guys start screaming at him ‘cause he was late getting on the bus and Bill Madlock is sitting there laughing at him.

Ed goes up to Madlock and screams “you better give me back my fucking socks!”

Sports: The Giants’ quiet hex

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Eddie Grant, swinging from the heels in the pre-hex days

By A.J. Hayes

When compared to other noted sports hexes – notably, the Chicago’s “Billy Goat Jinx” and Boston’s now squelched “Curse of the Bambino” – the San Francisco-directed “Plague of the Plaque” falls short of the fences in terms of romantic heft.

The mysterious malediction is not centered around a larger-than-life superstar who was peddled to a rival club to help finance a Broadway play, nor does it have anything to do with a rogue farm animal that was ejected from Wrigley Field during the 1945 World Series for behaving and smelling like an, er, rogue farm animal.

No, the protagonist in this whammy was a gaunt infielder turned World War I hero named Eddie Grant, who only managed to hit his weight in 10 big league seasons because he was so darned skinny.

But if you’re inclined to believe in the sporting spirits, or you think “Field of Dreams” was a pseudo-documentary, you just might buy into the “Plague of the Plaque,” AKA “Eddie’s Affliction.”

Dolores Park mini guitar hero

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By Phil Eil

For those of you who declined invitations to Dolores Park on Saturday: Don’t worry, you didn’t miss much. It was the usual scene: young people drinking Tecate, dogs chasing Frisbees, an eight-year-old guitar prodigy playing Creedence covers.

What’s that? There isn’t usually a third-grader playing to throngs of fans? I see. OK, then. Maybe you did miss something. Here’s what happened:

At around 6 p.m., I was lounging on the grass near the center walkway, talking with a friend, when I heard the unmistakable guitar intro to “Suzie Q.” But then, instead of a grown-up Fogerty-wannabe belting out the lyrics, I heard a tiny, determined voice wailing, “Oh, Suzie Q, baby I love you…” Curious to see who was singing, I shuffled toward the source of the music. By the tennis courts, I found a raucous crowd of hipsters whistling and hooting around a kid with an electric guitar and a microphone. Behind him, sitting on an amp, there was an older guy playing back-up guitar. I sat down and stayed mesmerized for the next 45 minutes.

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My PS3 abilities no longer seem so impressive …

Old Skool Cafe Gospel Brunch gives back

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Guardian videographer Ariel Soto visited the Old Skool Cafe Gospel Brunch at Farmer Brown restaurant, and really enjoyed the bacon.

Lincecum strikes out SJ jinx

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By A.J. Hayes

For Tim Lincecum’s sake lets hope that there’s some validity to the phrase “What you don’t know, can’t hurt you.”

After the Giants young ace – billed as “The Freak” – was featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated last week, Lincecum claimed he had no prior knowledge of the famed S.I. Jinx. Over the years the bad luck curse has claimed past cover boys ranging from Rick Barry to Barry Sanders.

“All it is s a magazine, right?” said Lincecum. “In elementary school we had Sports Illustrated for Kids. But I never heard of a jinx. I did hear of the Madden Curse though.”

Ah, the video game generation.

Pics: Fillmore Jazz Festival saxes up the art stalls

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By Ariel Soto

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The syncopated sounds of the Fillmore Jazz Festival made their way through the huge crowd this 4th of July weekend. The fair-goers perused the many stalls lining Fillmore street, that were filled with vibrant art, jewelry and hats, some of which were directly influenced by the jazz theme that enveloped the weekends festivities. Kids ran around while saxophones blared from three different stages and adults threw back margaritas being sold by women with crazy glasses who were running stalls in front of local bars. Friendly, docile greyhounds were up for adoption (I so wanted to bring one home!), whose booth was conveniently located next to the bar-b-qued oyster and turkey leg stand, which I’m sure kept the dogs noses consistently pleased. The Fillmore District, famous for being a mecca for jazz music for many past decades, seems to be keeping the spirit of the music alive through this yearly event.

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Video: San Francisco Bicycle Music Festival 2008

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Guardian videographers Rhyen Coombs and Eric Zassenhaus reported from the Bicycle Music Fest on June 21.