Finding your home team

Thoughts on uprooting, disturbance, settlements, and fans

Kai has big feelings about fair-weather sporting fans. As a San Francisco native, he learned about unrequited love, celebration, community and disappointment from his local sports teams: the Warriors, the Giants, the Earthquakes, and the 49ers.

Your home team is always your team, he believes, even when you move, as we have to San Diego.

I’ve never been as loyal to a team as Kai. Sure, I still feel a thrill when Ohio State beats Michigan, or the Lakers (always the Lakers, never the Clippers) wallop the Celtics or Pistons. Though I cheer on the San Jose Earthquakes, I’m stoked San Diego is getting a MLS team in 2025. At a recent Padres/Giants game, I wore a Giants shirt and a Padres hat — a sport faux pas that made my teenager groan.

Those of you who know me, understand that I take little bits of all the places I have loved with me. No place better represents my eclectic self than my home. Beyond the array of crops thriving in the little free garden, and the plethora of books around the house, my hundred year old cottage contains snippets of a life — Eddie’s dad’s antique desk, my step-grandma’s muumuu, a Tibetan wall hanging, a Kenyan chair, an Indonesian teak table gifted from a former student in Silicon Valley, a old trunk that was…