I’m over it, and you should be too. I admit, it wasn’t easy at first to read about the Panda being courted by the bean counters in Beantown. An outsider might look curiously at how young and old, male and female Giants Nation came to embrace a rotund man in his twenties, turning him into a warm, cuddly and lovable creature they called the Panda. But I think I can explain that.

Pablo Sandoval was one of us, a lunch pail worker, even if sometimes he needed two lunch pails to fill the frame. In a sport with wheelers and dealers, he was a portrait of innocence. He reminded us of why we fell in love with baseball in our youths. He hopped, skipped and jumped into the batter’s box with that one-of-a-kind ritual that would look idiotic if tried by 99 percent of the players, yet was accepted because he was the Panda. He blew bubbles with his bubble gum while fielding the ball. His policy as a batter was no pitch would be left behind as he swung at everything but intentional walks, and rapped a number of hits that were not only well off the plate but barely in the same zip code. While some of the game’s combatants played with a sneer, he operated with a smile. He was a big leaguer with a passion for the game of a little leaguer. He wasn’t a superstar, but did you ever ignore him when he was at bat?

Of course, all that would be meaningless and silly except for one thing: the Panda produced.

The Giants and Dodgers were locked in a classic pennant race in August 2012, and entered a three-game series at Dodger Stadium with first-place Los Angeles leading San Francisco by a half game. The Dodgers were coming off a three-game sweep of the Giants in July, and looked to get a jump on the Giants with ace Clayton Kershaw on the mound. Kershaw was a Giant killer, having beaten them five times in 2011. The Giants needed someone to step up.

Madison Bumgarner did his part, battling pitch for pitch with Kershaw. But could anyone provide the offense? Sandoval took on the challenge, driving in both Giants runs with a sacrifice fly and a single off Kershaw for a crucial 2-1 victory. Fans will point to Sandoval’s record-tying, three-homer explosion in game one of the 2012 World Series as his most memorable moment as a Giant. But without those season-changing clutch at-bats against Kershaw, which propelled the Giants to a series sweep of the Dodgers, there might never have been a World Series that year to showcase Sandoval’s magic.

Sandoval cemented his legend as a Giant with that World Series big fly binge. I’ve seen a lot of baseball. I’ve never seen or felt anything like what happened that day.

Based on the press reports, there was doubt the Giants would even show up for the series opener as they faced the dominant Detroit Tigers and their all-world pitcher Justin Verlander, who had won the MVP and Cy Young the previous season. Poor physical conditioning and a big offensive drop off had made Sandoval a spectator in the Giants post-season championship run of 2010. But Sandoval had gotten himself in shape, and was lighting up the 2012 post season. His first-inning homer triggered a burst of cheers and applause. His second off Verlander in the third set off a wild celebration in the stands. But it was his third blast, off reliever Al Albuquerque in the fifth, that provided the incredible chilling moment. The shock was such that there was a split second of silence where raucous cheers would usually take over, as the crowd came to grips with what they just saw. Around my section, people stared silently at each other, before erupting into screams, hugs, high fives and maybe even some tears. It was the most powerful moment in the 15 years at the Giants downtown ballpark.

Sandoval played a key role in the Giants 2014 post season and eventual championship. He was a free agent, but the Giants boasted that they never lost a free agent they really wanted.

But they apparently didn’t know that the Panda wanted to run free.

The press conference in Boston to officially introduce Sandoval as a new member of the Red Sox was weird. It was one thing for Giants fans to know their Panda was being courted. Now they were watching the wedding, with Sandoval wearing a Red Sox cap and shirt. The Red Sox brass seemed so proud they pulled this off, but I kept wondering that if they were so smart, why did they have Sandoval sitting in front of a wall filled with logos for Dunkin Donuts? Couldn’t they have found a sponsor who sold low-calorie salads?

When the officials quit droning on and let reporters ask Sandoval questions, he was superb. He was classy, and said all the right things. I really believe that Sandoval simply had a seven-year itch after his seven-year career with the Giants. Maybe there were some issues with the Giants that will eventually surface, but he seemed truly excited to become part of the Three Amigos, as a Boston website called them, to be joining Red Sox godfather David Ortiz and former Dodger Hanley Ramirez. Sandoval saw the challenge of taking on a new job, and is that wrong? If you’re truly looking for something to be irritated about, it is how the American League has an advantage over the National League in signing players such as Sandoval because they can entice the player as a potential designated hitter toward the end of the contract.

Yes Virginia, baseball is a business, and that is not breaking news. There’s nothing new about that. The Giants gave the boot to Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Orlando Cepeda and Juan Marichal. But baseball also is a fascinating game, and Sandoval as a member of the Red Sox will be one of the most interesting stories of 2015. So will the moves the champion Giants will consider now, as we assume the nearly $100 million being reserved for Sandoval is now available to buy a top-flight pitcher or leftfielder.

If your little Virginia also wants to know what to do with her treasured Panda hat, refer her to this comment about the hats from a woman who reviewed one on Amazon.com, and tell her to wear it proudly. “Since it doesn’t have a team logo, if you’re more of a Panda fan than a Giants fan, you can take it with you if he happens to go somewhere else.”

So let the Panda move on, cherish the thrills he provided, and welcome him back when the Giants hold some big World Series reunion in future years. Or better yet, pull for a Giants-Red Sox World Series in 2015: MadBum vs the Panda: Could baseball get any better than that?

The Giants, heading into just their fourth season  in San Francisco in 1961, had quite a shopping list as they searched for their third manager since moving West. The names included legends such as Leo Durocher, Casey Stengel and Yogi Berra. They eventually passed up on the legends and other notable names, and turned to the scrappy Alvin Dark, a tough, hardball-playing shortstop who toiled for the New York Giants from 1950-56. Dark would get the Giants to the World Series one year later.

The news today that Alvin Dark had died at the age of 92 in Easley, S.C., jolted me. My exposure to baseball began in 1958 when the Giants arrived, and I remember following just about every at bat, every game, every series of the epic 1962 season. A remarkable pennant race between the Giants and Dodgers went down to the last day of the regular season, when the Giants tied the Dodgers for first place to force a three-game playoff. The Dark-led Giants took two-of-three to win the pennant. And just like that, Alvin Dark was a San Francisco baseball hero for beating the hated Dodgers. That was no fluke. In the third game of the 1951 playoff against the Dodgers, Dark’s single in the bottom of the ninth started the Giants shocking comeback from a 4-1 deficit that ended with Bobby Thomson’s pennant-winning home run.

Dark’s success should not have been a surprise. He was an exceptional athlete, a star football player at LSU who was talented enough to be drafted by the Philadelphia Eagles in 1945. He chose baseball and was rookie of the year with the Boston Braves in 1948 when he hit .328. He was traded to the Giants in 1950. He hit .417 in the Giants loss to the Yankees in the 1951 World Series. He hit .412 in the Giants World Series sweep of Cleveland in 1954. He played with four other teams after leaving the Giants, and finished with a .289 batting average and three All-Star appearances. The Giants let Dark go after 1964, and he went on to manage four teams, including the World Series champion Athletics in 1974. Dark the manager had 994 wins with a winning percentage of .526.

But Dark’s measure as a ballplayer wasn’t about stats. He was all-out competitive, and that football mentality he carried from his college days was never more on display than the day he went one-on-one against Jackie Robinson.

Early in the 1955 season, the Dodgers were upset that menacing Giants pitcher Sal “The Barber” Maglie had given some of the batters a close shave. Robinson responded with a bunt to the right side, and he delivered a punishing blow to Giants second baseman Davey Williams, who was covering first base. Dark charged from his shortstop position to confront Robinson but was restrained. In the next inning, Dark crashed into Robinson while advancing to third base, jarring the ball loose.

That fiery attitude on the diamond marked his time with the Giants.

After losing the first two of a four-game series against the Dodgers in September 1961, Dark revealed that he had fined seven players a total of $1,000 for missing a curfew in St. Louis two weeks earlier. Dark also revealed he had a sense of humor, and told the players to stay out as long as they want to see if that might change their luck against the Dodgers. It didn’t, as the Dodgers swept.

Dark tried another way to shake up his team in 1961, which seems startling in today’s era of pitch counts and specialty relievers. Dark was frustrated at the inability of his top starter trio of Juan Marichal, Jack Sanford and Mike McCormick to throw complete games, so he instituted a no-bullpen rule. The starters were told they had to go the distance. Sanford and McCormick delivered complete games, and Marichal, pitching with a sore finger and bruised foot, managed to throw two shutouts. Finally, Dark called off the experiment.

During the tense Giants-Dodgers 1962 battle, the Dodgers were aghast to discover a huge pile of sand had been placed at first base at Candlestick Park  as a means of slowing the Dodgers running game. An upset Dodgers manager Walter Alston referred all questions to Dark, “the guy who put it there.” In a denial that would have made Richard Nixon envious, Dark theorized that the strong Candlestick winds had picked up this mound of sand and delivered it right there at first base.

Remembering these colorful moments brings joy to me, but in deciding to write this piece, I also knew I would have to address the painful part. Dark was quoted in a 1964 interview as saying “the Negro and Spanish-speaking players on this team” didn’t have the same ‘mental alertness” as white players. Latin players from that time said he asked them not to speak Spanish in the clubhouse out of some belief it would hurt team unity.

Time has a way of healing, and Giants slugger Orlando Cepeda, one of the Latin players of that time, said upon learning of Dark’s death that his former manager apologized for his words and ignorance of Latin players everytime their paths would cross. Even Jackie Robinson would express respect for Dark in later years, saying of his clash in that 1955 incident, “I admired Al for what he did after I had run down Williams.” Willie Mays, who played for Dark, called him a ‘mentor” and “a very nice man” as news of his death spread. Dark had Mays’ safety in mind in 1962, when he talked his star into wearing a batting helmet for the first time instead of the protective liner he always wore under his baseball cap. The move worked immediately as Mays homered in his first at bat in 1962. Still, Dark acknowledged in later years that the episode of those unfortunate comments would be part of his obituary.

So much time has passed now.

The words of Cepeda and Mays are good enough for me to toss those unfortunate comments into the waste bin of the times when many others of that era were saying the same thing with much more venom.

So I’m going back to where I was when I first heard word today of Alvin Dark’s passing. We lost a good Giant. We lost a good baseball man. And I hope Giants fans everywhere take a few moments today to appreciate that.

I hate to rain on the Giants parade, but there’s not enough sound evidence to call them a dynasty. Not that they or their fans care, because it actually did rain on their parade, and about a zillion people showed up anyway to soak in their third World Series championship in five years. The faithful would just as soon whack me with a soggy umbrella than hear reasons why it’s not a dynasty yet, but such debates are one of the big reasons many cherish the game.

I embarked on this mission as a serious researcher, but I began by creating this simple test about whether the Giants qualify as a dynasty: If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it must be a duck. So I Googled this theory and ended up with a bunch of articles about Duck Dynasty. Now, I have never seen the popular reality TV show, but I am aware that some of the characters have beards longer than many major league players, which is quite impressive right there. I quickly discovered that the Duck family made its money by producing things like duck calls for hunters. It got me to wondering whether their family made those duck calls that Dodgers fans brought to a game in 1962 in response to the Giants flooding the infield to stop the Dodger speedsters. Probably not. I also learned that ratings for the Duck Dynasty are finally slipping after three years, so this show may be heading for the designation of Lame Duck Dynasty.

The last National League team to win three championships in five years was the St. Louis Cardinals in 1942-44-46. That club, led by Hall of Fame legend Stan Musial, isn’t even on anyone’s dynasty list. The numbers show that if those Cardinals didn’t achieve dynasty status, the Giants don’t have much of an argument to make for themselves. In six seasons, from 1941 through 1946, the Cardinals won four pennants and finished second twice. They went to the World Series four times in that period, dropping the 1943 Series to the Yankees. They won 106 games in 1942, and 105 games each  in 1943 and 1944.

In the six-year stretch from 2009 to 2014, the Giants finished in first, second and third twice. They got to the post season this year as the low seed. The Cardinals won 606 regular season games in those six years, while the Giants won 524. If there was a wild-card in the 1940s, the Cardinals would have gone to the post season all six years. If the Cardinals of that time haven’t earned dynasty status, the Giants don’t qualify either.

Merriam/Webster defines a dynasty as “a family, team, etc. that is very powerful or successful for a long period of time.” The Imperial House of Japan is used as an example of a dynasty because it has been around since 660 BC. The Holy Roman Empire is another that gets mention because it held on for 2,214 years. The Giants are going to need to build a far deeper farm system if they expect to be mentioned in the same breath as those two powerhouses.

So how high is the bar to reach dynasty status? The Yankees of 1949-1964 won 14 pennants and nine World Series championships in 15 years. The Yankees of 1996-2003 reached the post season all eight years, winning seven division titles, six pennants and four World Series crowns.  The Big Orange Machine might have passed the Big Red Machine this year. The Cincinnati Reds of the 1970s dominated over six years, but only won two World Series titles. The A’s get dynasty consideration because they won three consecutive World Series, while winning their division during the five-year stretch from 1971-1975.

The Boston Celtics established themselves as a dynasty by winning 11 NBA championships in 13 years from 1957 to 1969. The Los Angeles Lakers won five championships in a 12-year-run from 1979-1991, which included nine conference titles and 12 winning seasons. The Chicago Bulls won six titles in eight years from 1993 to 1998. Those sound like dynasties.

The Green Bay Packers won five titles in seven years in the 1960s, including the first two Super Bowls. The 49ers captured four Super Bowls and eight division titles from 1981-89, and the Steelers won four Super Bowls in six years in the 1970s for dynasty status.

The UCLA basketball team from 1964-1975 is arguably the top all-time sports dynasty with 10 national championships in 12 seasons, including seven straight from 1967-1973, four undefeated seasons and a stretch of 88 consecutive wins.

Lance Armstrong appeared to have claimed the individual designation with his seven consecutive Tour de France titles, but his reputation has faded quickly from dynasty top die-nasty.

The Giants players aren’t the only ones facing tough competition to earn widespread dynasty acceptance. Lou Seal, their mascot and cheerleader, has given his all to rally the team and fans. But before he can become a dynasty mascot, he must surpass the hurdle of the Morehead State University coed cheerleading squad, which has won 19 titles in 22 years of sideline rooting.

But so much for the numbers.

Dynasties are usually feared and favored. For example, in their heyday, the Celtics, the 49ers and the Roman Empire were expected to push around the opposition in every battle. The Giants, meanwhile, get about as much respect as Rodney Dangerfield. It might be that in the era where finances and parity are changing the competition, a three-out-of-five post season domination is as spectacular and noteworthy as the traditional dynasties of years gone by, and we should all simply recognize and salute that. Those three World Series rings offer sufficient consolation if the Giants aren’t deemed to have reached the dynasty pinnacle, and the players who have been around for all of them are still thinking they’ve got enough fingers for seven more. Is anybody really prepared to make the case that this club won’t eventually be fitted to someday clearly wear the dynasty label?