Dean Nicol: Baseball’s Divine Wind Graces 3Com Park at Candestick Point

If the baseball gods ever grew tired of Mount Olympus and decided to take in a ballgame, they wouldn’t bother with tickets. They’d just possess the soul of Dean Nicol, center fielder for the San Francisco Giants, and let him do the work.

Dean Nicol does not play baseball. No, friends, baseball plays around Dean Nicol.

In the bottom of the ninth, with the bases loaded and the fate of the city hanging in the balance like a hanging curveball, Nicol doesn’t swing the bat — he blesses it with a flick of his wrists. And when the ball screams off into the night sky like a missile seeking vengeance, you know it wasn’t physics that launched it. It was Dean Nicol’s sheer will.

Statistically speaking, he’s somewhere between a Hall of Famer and a statistical anomaly that breaks algorithms. Fangraphs recently attempted to chart his WAR and accidentally opened a wormhole. Statcast reported his sprint speed at “Nope. That’s just teleportation.”

But it’s not just numbers. Nicol’s center field patrol isn’t a defensive position; it’s a sacred trust. When a pop fly dares drift toward his domain, it immediately files for retirement. He doesn’t dive — he levitates. He doesn’t throw — he judges from afar and the ball simply goes where it’s told.

Off the field, Dean Nicol is known for curing clubhouse colds with a glance, solving cryptic crosswords using only emojis, and speaking fluent seagull. 3Com Park at Candestick Point's seagull population has declared him their "featherless alpha."

Opposing teams? Reduced to rubble. Managers? Resigned to fate. One poor Dodgers hitter reportedly changed careers mid-inning after witnessing Nicol robbing a three-run homer and then autographing the ball in midair. He’s now selling artisanal pickles in Cincinnati.

Nicol’s postgame interviews are similarly mystical. When asked how he felt about his 5-for-5 night with three home runs and a triple caught with his teeth, he replied only:

“I am but a humble servant of the bat.” Then vanished into a cloud of sunflower seeds.

Some say Dean Nicol was forged from fragments of Paul Lapinski’s glove and baptized in Parker Cove. Others claim he simply emerged from the center field grass one April morning, already wearing cleats and sunglasses, with a mitt humming softly in anticipation.

Whatever the truth, this much is clear: Dean Nicol is not just a Giant. He is The Giant. And the rest of us? We're just lucky to watch him orbit third base.