The 49ers and The Orange are both off this weekend so I’ve got time on my hands and pj’s got nothing to talk about.

It was 20 years ago today at 5:04 PM that the Bay Area experienced the Loma Prieta Earthquake. It was one of those moments you never forget and you remember exactly where you were. I was fortunate enough to be at the third game of the MLB World Series between the San Francisco Giants and our neighbors across the Bay, the Oakland Athletics. We were sitting 8th row behind the plate in the upper deck of Candlestick Park. My friend and I were in front of the spillover seats from the 49ers owners DeBartolo family luxury box, sitting next to a Chronicle reporter and National League umpire Ed Montague and his son. We thought we must be in paradise. Another friend had been shooting photos all season for the Giants yearbook and was good for some great seats for all of the post-season. The Giants were down to the A’s 2 games to zip but everyone was hopeful that this game would be the turning point.

We arrived early to take it all in so we had already been in the park for several hours and had a few beverages even though we skipped tailgating so we wouldn’t miss anything inside. It was finally getting close to game time and the pregame ceremonies were shaping up for the TV broadcast on ABC which went on the air at 5. An air of excitement was beginning to rise in the finally almost full stadium. Things were really getting ready to happen. Since people had some portable TVs you could see the intro and then this.

There was a big bump kind of like a punch and then the whole place began to undulate more than shake. You could see and feel a big rolling coming through and you could hear a rumble. My friend John started to panic and headed for the aisle with an “I’m outta here” but I grabbed him and just said that at least we were on the top of everything so he stayed. I fixed my sights on what was behind and above us fearing a panic stampede but people mostly stayed put with bewildered expressions. Everyone knew what was happening, no one could quite believe it. I then started to watch the press box with its windows rippling in the afternoon sun. After the longest 15 seconds in my life it stopped and there was a long, quiet gasp. Then the entire stadium erupted in a long and loud cheer. It was a Giants omen. We’re still standing, let’s play ball. We stood in the stands like everything was fine and surely the festivities would resume shortly. However, it wasn’t long before the power failed. All of the television and radio stations were down and eventually one or two came back on the air and rumours began to circulate. Fires, freeway collapses, a bridge collapse but for a while we still thought the game must go on. All of the players and management and press were out on the field looking at the stands. Some of the players had brought their families and guests out of the stands and all of them had the same stunned looks as the rest of us as they milled around on the diamond. A few police cruisers pulled out on the field as some distant smoke rose high enough to be visible above the rim of the stadium. That was when everyone understood this was something completely different.

After a while, there was an announcement from the police loudspeakers that everyone should leave the stadium in an orderly fashion and about 50,000 people began to walk out solemnly. Leaving the stadium we could already see the evidence of the enormity of the day and the surreality to come as we went on our ways to find our families and friends and how everyone had fared.

Candlestick Park stood strong and many give credit to 49er fan, ex-mayor and the Dino everyone loves to hate, Dianne Feinstein who as mayor saw through a retrofit of the stadium that made damage minimal. Two weeks later we were out there again for the rest of the Series but it really did not matter much at that point (at least that’s what we said after the Giants were swept).

There was a lot of damage but it could have been much worse. A section of the upper deck of the Bay Bridge that had given the Series it’s nickname had collapsed and there was one fatality. A 1.25 mile section of the upper deck of two level Nimitz freeway fell on the bottom and 42 lives were lost. Had it not been the Bay Bridge Series at that particular rush hour time there would have been bumper to bumper traffic on both and unbelievable death. I am not sure how Falwell and Robertson have explained this ‘miracle’.

I won’t go on and on about what happened after that but I sure will be reliving it today.

Funny that while I was working on this post, I found this item which I swear I did not plagiarize.