After a 100-loss season pushed the franchise to its lowest point, Roger Craig, Will Clark, and the 1986 Giants gave San Francisco something it had been missing for years: belief
By Wesley Dixon | May 10, 2026
By the spring of 1986, Candlestick Park had become less of a ballpark and more of a place where hope began to freeze.
The San Francisco Giants had just finished 62-100 in 1985, dead last in the National League West, a season so bleak that manager Roger Craig inherited the dugout for only the final 18 games and it still felt like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. The year before that, San Francisco had gone 66-96, 79-83 in 1983, and an 87-win season that amounted to nothing substantial. By 1985, the franchise was starting to lose relevance despite its historic standing.
That was a hard pill to swallow for older Giants fans. They remembered when this franchise mattered every summer. In the 1960s, Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Juan Marichal, Orlando Cepeda, and Gaylord Perry made San Francisco feel like a heavyweight, even when they constantly came up short in October. The 1971 team, managed by Charlie Fox, was the last great echo of that era, winning the NL West at 90-72 and holding off the Dodgers by a single game. Mays later called the club “the most spirited” Giants team since the franchise moved west.
Then came the decline. The Giants did not return to the postseason until 1987. By the mid-1980s, the stars of the old era were now plaques in Cooperstown, the seats were empty, and the franchise needed someone to bring some life and personality to the Bay Area
Craig supplied that in spades.
He arrived with a Southern drawl, a stubborn attitude, and two words that sounded ridiculous until they became an era-defining trend: “Humm Baby”. Craig later explained that the phrase symbolized a player who “didn’t have a lot of talent, but he gave you 180 percent.” That was exactly the kind of identity the Giants needed. They were not a powerhouse by any means, but under Craig, they started to feel alive again.
The numbers showed the shift instantly. The 1986 Giants went 83-79, a 21-win improvement from the 100-loss disaster of 1985. They finished third in the NL West, but the standings aren’t the point. A franchise that had become a relic of the past suddenly had a pulse.
And then there was Will Clark.
Clark was a 22 year old smooth swinging lefty that was unbothered by the burden of being the savior of the franchise. The Giants had drafted him second overall in 1985, and by the next spring, was already on the big league roster. Craig said that Clark had “major league written all over him” and that he knew that Clark was ready to play right away.
On Opening Day in Houston, Craig did not hide him at the bottom of the order. He batted Clark second against Nolan Ryan. The youngsters first major league swing became a 420-foot home run to center field in the Astrodome. Bob Brenly, who helped give him the nickname “Will the Thrill,” called it “the stuff legends are made of.” Clark later said Ryan’s first pitch relaxed him, and when he connected, he knew from the sound that he had caught it.
That swing did not win a pennant, but it was still vital for team morale. Mike Krukow later said the Giants were coming off 100 losses and that Clark’s brashness kept the club from spending the spring reliving 1985. “Everyone sort of took on his story,” Krukow said.
The story had more than one author. Krukow became the staff ace, going 20-9 with a 3.05 ERA and 178 strikeouts over 245 innings. Scott Garrelts added a 3.11 ERA and 10 saves while bouncing between starting and relief. Chris Brown hit .317. Chili Davis drove in 70 runs. Bob Brenly supplied 16 homers. Robby Thompson gave the infield energy and durability. And Candy Maldonado became a weapon off the bench, leading the league in pinch-hitting at .425.
Still, what made the 1986 Giants memorable was not what they did in a singular year, but what they made possible.
The next year, San Francisco won the NL West for the first time since 1971. Two years after that, Craig’s Giants won the National League pennant and reached the earthquake World Series. The 1986 team was the bridge between the empty years and the reset. It did not finish the job, but it restored the belief that the job could be finished.
After years of silence at Candlestick, the Giants had a manager with a catchphrase, a rookie with all-star potential, and a roster that played like losing was no longer acceptable. That was the real legacy of 1986. Before the division title, before the pennant, before the crowds came back for good, the Giants first had to remember what winning baseball felt like. Roger Craig and Will Clark made sure they did.
Wesley Dixon is a multi-sport journalist delivering sharp analysis, player insights, and storytelling. His coverage spans across the biggest leagues in all major sports.