Brian “The Beard” Wilson

Every Giants fan of a certain age can still hear it. The bullpen door swings open, House of Pain kicks in, the whole park starts jumping, and out comes this guy with a beard so black it looked painted on. Brian Wilson wasn't the most talented closer the Giants ever had. He'd tell you that himself. He was just the one standing on the mound when it finally happened.

He was born March 16, 1982, in Winchester, Massachusetts, and grew up in Londonderry, New Hampshire. His dad, Mike, was an Air Force veteran and a strict one. Brian was 12 when his father was diagnosed with cancer, and his dad died while Brian was still at Londonderry High. That's the part of the Beard story people skip. The crossed arms and the point to the sky after every save? That was for his father, and for his faith.

Cleveland wanted to sign him out of high school. He went to LSU instead, made 51 appearances there, 22 of them starts, and then his elbow blew out in March 2003 and he needed Tommy John surgery. The Giants took him in the 24th round that June anyway. A 24th rounder with a rebuilt elbow. Nobody was writing songs about that kid.

He climbed fast once he got healthy. In 2005 he closed at Augusta with a 0.82 ERA and then saved games at Norwich, and on April 23, 2006 he was in the big leagues, throwing two scoreless innings in his debut. He also hurt himself in that debut and didn't tell anybody, which tells you plenty. The first year and a half were rough, a 5.40 ERA in 2006 and a trip back to Fresno in 2007, but by September 2007 he'd taken the closer job from Brad Hennessey and he never really gave it back.

In 2008 he saved 41 games, ran off 24 straight saves from May into August, and made his first All Star team on a Giants club that lost 90 games. In 2009 he saved 38 more and got four or more outs in eight of them, more than anybody in the league. He also gave up a two run homer to Jeff Baker that September that hurt like crazy. Closers wear those. He wore that one.

Then 2010. He signed a two year, $15 million extension in spring training and said, out loud, that an elite closer is one who gets the last out of the World Series. Remember that. He went out and led the majors with 48 saves, tying Rod Beck's San Francisco record, with a 1.81 ERA and 93 strikeouts in 74.2 innings. He also walked guys, loaded the bases, and made every ninth inning feel like a root canal. That's a big chunk of where Torture came from. The orange cleats got him fined $1,000 in July. The beard showed up during the pennant race, and pretty soon fans all over the ballpark were wearing fake ones.

In October he was perfect where it counted. Ten games, six saves, a win, 11.2 innings and zero earned runs. He saved the NL West clincher on the last day of the season, saved both games in Atlanta, finished off the Phillies in Philadelphia by freezing Ryan Howard, and struck out Nelson Cruz in Arlington to win the first World Series in San Francisco history. The next July the President of the United States made a joke about his beard in the East Room. Show me another Giants reliever who can say that.

2011 was good and then it wasn't. He made his third All Star team and saved that game for the National League, but his elbow got inflamed in August and the Giants shut him down early. He finished with 36 saves. The next April, at Coors Field, he got the save on April 12 with something very wrong in his arm, refused to come out, and a week later had his second Tommy John surgery. The Giants won the 2012 World Series without him on the mound. He still got a ring, and he still counts it.

Then came the part a lot of us didn't love. The Giants non tendered him after 2012, and in July 2013 he signed with the Dodgers. I know. He was great for them that fall, a 0.66 ERA in 18 games, and they gave him $10 million for 2014, when he slipped to a 4.66 ERA. The Dodgers released him that December. He shaved the beard and tried a comeback as a knuckleballer in 2017, but no team signed him.

He came home, though. On April 3, 2018 he walked out at the home opener in full uniform with Jump Around blaring and threw a strike to Buster Posey. That July 28 the Giants put his plaque on the Wall of Fame along King Street, alongside Matt Cain and Ryan Vogelsong, and he told the crowd this was home. His 171 saves still rank third in San Francisco history, behind only Robb Nen and Rod Beck.

Off the field he's kept it quiet. When he talked to the Chronicle for the tenth anniversary in 2020, he was living in the San Fernando Valley, designing and building homes, and described a very, very low key life. Not what you'd expect from the guy who wore a spandex tuxedo to the ESPYs. Exactly what you'd expect from the kid in New Hampshire who spent seven hours shoveling snow on weekends because his dad told him to.

Look, Brian Wilson made you sweat. He walked people. He let the tying run get to second base like he was doing it on purpose. If you judged him on how your stomach felt in the ninth inning, he'd be the least clutch pitcher in Giants history.

Then you look at what actually happened when it mattered most. In the 2010 postseason he pitched in ten games and didn't allow an earned run. Not one. He saved the division clincher, both wins in Atlanta, the pennant clincher in Philadelphia, and the World Series clincher in Texas. He got five outs in Game 6 of the NLCS, starting with a line drive double play and ending with Ryan Howard taking strike three on a full count with two men on.

He liked the eighth inning. He said so. He thought a real closer should come in early and finish it, and in 2010 he got four or more outs in ten of his saves, more than anybody in baseball. Bochy kept handing him the ball in the scariest spots on the field, and he kept handing it back with the game won.

And the night his elbow finally gave out in Denver, he wouldn't leave. Bases loaded, two outs, a three run lead already down to two, and he stayed out there until Marco Scutaro flew out to right. He'd rather finish the save on a busted arm than walk off the mound in the middle of it. You can call that dumb. I call it a closer.