ANAHEIM, Calif. -- Darren Baker's face was wet and shiny from tears, and even an Angels loyalist's heart would've been broken by the sight of the little boy. His father, Dusty, carried his 3-year-old son through the Giants' clubhouse, trying to console him after the Giants' once-perfect October had pockmarked with a Game 7 loss in the World Series.

Baker, the father, was a wall of strength, making sure little Darren heard him say, "I'm very proud of my team."

But Baker, the manager, didn't deny just how much it hurt to watch the Angels literally swallow up Troy Percival on the mound -- grown men hugging and screaming and back-slapping, delirium everywhere at Edison Field -- moments after the last out in their 4-1 win Sunday night.

"It's a difficult time right now," Baker said, "Your heart is heavy, your stomach is empty. Your head and your brain feel full right now. It's going to be very difficult to go back to the hotel and hear people hollering and screaming out there for Anaheim."

Baker was too numb to begin thinking of his future, adding "there hasn't been enough time" to consider whether the Giants' 2002 season will help or hurt him in owner Peter Magowan's eyes.

After all, the Giants won the National League championship as the wild-card team, without even a 15-game winner on their pitching staff. And they were only six outs away from becoming world champs. But the Giants will also be remembered for that disastrous Game 6, and Baker's decision to start Livan Hernandez in Game 7 will forever carry an asterisk.

Over and over, Baker had insisted Hernandez was the right pitcher for this enormous task. Yet, he was knocked out in the third inning, a performance which hardly surprised some executives. "He just doesn't have enough," is how one club official described Hernandez's arsenal, despite his 6-1 career postseason record heading into the Game 7 start.

Baker insisted on starting Hernandez over Kirk Rueter on three days' rest, but Rueter's subsequent effectiveness -- he allowed just one hit in four innings of relief -- left Baker open to an offseason of second-guessing.

Should he have listened to an instinct to lean on Rueter? In his own defense, Baker said Rueter would have tired early in the game and thereby taxed the Giants' already-exhausted bullpen.

"Livan was strong, he could've gone nine innings," the manager said. "We didn't wrestle with the decision (to start Hernandez) because Kirk was going on three days and Livan was on his regular days."

That explanation makes sense -- at least in theory -- but the Giants had no answer to the growing number of intangibles that favored the Angels throughout the Series, especially after Game 6.

That, indeed, was a sore point in the Giants' clubhouse. When someone asked Barry Bonds, "Were you haunted?" after Saturday night's collapse, the slugger snapped, "Why would I be haunted? What's that got to do with me?"

Of course, the question referred to the Giants as a whole, but Bonds was in no mood to finesse the language. He was dressed and ready for the door within 30 minutes, and obviously resented the thick crowd that had gathered at his locker, delaying his exit.

"Back off. You're stepping on my son," Bonds said to reporters. "Back off or I'll snap."

In another corner of the clubhouse, Magowan was dodging point-blank questions about Baker's future. The owner plans to meet with Baker in the next few days, but he refused to say if Baker would manage the Giants in 2003, or if he even wanted him to.

"I'll leave the decision to my general manager, and first we'll have to determine who our general manager will be," Magowan said, referring to Brian Sabean's expiring contract.

Magowan was again asked if he, personally, had a desire to see Baker with the Giants next year. Again, the owner refused to be pinned down.

"I'll support whatever decision my general manager makes," he said. "That's not going to be my decision."

Such neutrality hardly bodes well for Baker, considering Magowan will logically sign off on any choice his GM makes. That's what's fueled rumors that Baker could end up in Seattle or with the Cubs in 2003, despite the most successful season of his managerial career.

Still, it didn't appear Baker was sweating his final hours. The night before Game 7, he and friends were seen relaxing in the lobby bar of the Giants' headquarters hotel. There he was, telling stories, laughing at jokes, making no effort to be invisible to the scores of patrons in the bar, including reporters who showed up for a post-Game 6 beer.

Instead, Dusty was being himself -- as open and gregarious as usual. He defined grace under pressure, and even in defeat a day later, carrying his little boy from the dugout into the clubhouse, Baker was a billboard of good will.

"I'm happy for Scios," he said, meaning Mike Scioscia. Baker rattled off the names of the Angels' coaches he wished to congratulate, including Bud Black and Ron Roenicke and Alfredo Griffin.

Baker knew exactly what the home clubhouse looked and sounded like: wild, wall-to-wall partying, with champagne, high-fives and maybe a few tears.

Graciously, Baker said, "I wish it was us."

Bob Klapisch of The Record (Bergen County, N.J.) covers baseball for ESPN.com.