Giants like their hairy, 'glorified' cheerleader

• Injured reliever Fox darling, says 'I can't control what the cameras do'
• Wilson enjoys keeping teammates positive, focused and being a part of the clubhouse
• As elbow heals, he stays connected -- with pep talks, jokes and music

SAN FRANCISCO - Brian Wilson knows exactly what you're thinking.

As the San Francisco Giants staged stirring comebacks in their first two playoff matchups to reach this 2012 World Series, the TV cameras inevitably - and often - found their way to one of the iconic heroes of their 2010 triumph.

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Trouble is, Wilson, still recovering from elbow surgery, won't throw a single pitch this postseason.

That doesn't stop the buzz-hungry Fox cameras from honing in on Wilson and his thick black beard - "Haven't shaved since June, July 2010," he muses - his painted fingernails, and his rhythmic clapping as he cajoles teammates in his new role as head cheerleader.

The air time only figures to continue as this World Series moves on, and a cynic might wonder if Wilson is merely using the platform as a way to extend his personal brand, which after the 2010 Series included an extended tour of the late-night talk-show circuit and a recurring role as Taco Bell pitchman.

But Wilson insists he is not inviting the attention.

"I can't control what the cameras do," he says. "It's just that people are starting to pay attention, videotaping it, recording it. Social media these days can blow anything up.

"I feel having good positive energy, trying to be the leader, says a lot."

Indeed, during Tuesday's World Series media event, Wilson's dais was tucked away in a far corner, dozens of yards away from more relevant teammates such as Matt Cain, Hunter Pence and Buster Posey.

Wilson showed up late to the event, sneaking through a back entrance on AT&T Park's club level to assume his position, rather than run the gauntlet of news media hungry for sound bites and insight.

Eventually, the notepads and minicams found him and Wilson obliged with a dialed-down assortment of insights both keen and zany. But it's clear Wilson - who saved every significant game for the club in 2010, only to be felled by Tommy John surgery this past April - is not craving the spotlight.

When it finds him, it reveals a player that, despite the goofy exterior, is experiencing the same spectrum of feelings that any player deemed irrelevant by injury experiences.

"One of the emotions of getting injured is embarrassment and isolation," Wilson says. "I like being in the clubhouse. It's my home.

"I don't look at myself as selfish. I'd like to participate. I am participating. I've been in this organization for nine years. I have an allegiance to maintain."

Sometimes, that can take the form of Wilson tap-tap-tapping his fingers on the back of a teammate's head in time to the ballpark soundtrack, or cracking a well-timed joke.

More often, it can be quietly counseling a player gearing up for a key situation.

I need to be a good teammate, he said, "to tell people about pressure and about what fear isn't."

His teammates don't seem to view him as a distraction.

"I think it's great," says Cain. "It's a glorified cheerleading job, but he keeps the guys going."

It also keeps Wilson connected. He had his first throwing session since his surgery on Saturday, exactly six months after his elbow was reconstructed. He will be arbitration-eligible in 2013, the last year he'll be under club control before he could become a free agent.

For now, Wilson sees no point in being out of sight, let alone out of mind.

"I don't consider myself injured," he says. "I consider myself taking a leave of absence, trying to get stronger.

"Part of getting stronger is being here."