I'LL TAKE THE FAN WITH THE SILVER LINING
This baseball season has been such an emotional see-saw for me. Not in that Cubs/Red Sox see-saw way, but whole schizophrenic team swings of see-sawness. Know what I mean?
Going into this season, I was as big and committed a Giants fan as the rest of the Giants nuts out here (thought considerably less offensive than the East Bay variety). Another year of Bonds, now with Moises Alou watching his back. How cool was that going to be? And we had a new closer, Armando Benitez, who had a reputation, albeit a predictable one to seasoned hitters. Newbies like Lance Niekro were showing they could replace our stars of today—if not this season, then one season soon.
Now that I've all but spurned the Giants because of their organization's complete inability to recoup from catastrophes, I've been thinking about the difference between fair-weathered fans, practical fans, Cubs fans, and fans who find new love at the least predictable times. Let's take a look at them.
San Diego Padres fans, now that their team is doing so well, are what I'd call fair-weathered. The Padres weren't poop a couple of seasons ago. They've got a new park, lots of attention, and are doing well in a division with only three decent teams (themselves, Dodgers, and Arizona). While in San Diego, I was shocked at the arrogance and pomposity, the threadbare ability of Padres fans to contain their frustration when the Cubs took a 4-game series from them. Didn't they have better things to do with their energy than heap scorn on the Cubs, who statistically aren't as strong as they are? That's a fair-weathered fan. Afraid that their tenuous grasp on greatness might evaporate. And if the greatness should evaporate, I fear for the Padres, because their fans will start pointing fingers and turning their backs and saying things like, "Padres suck."
How does that differ from a practical fan? A practical fan, like myself, is more level-headed. I know why the Giants did so well over the last four or five years. Barry Bonds and Dusty Baker and the magical fallout from their involvement. Now that Dusty is gone and Barry is, to all intents and purposes, gone, the magic fails. The Giants were never, in all the years I've adored them, a great team. They just had a lot of good things going in their favor. Circumstance, glamor, and the confluence of intimidation (Bonds) and veteran cohesion. I don't care enough about the Giants to ridicule them, or flip-flop like a fickle little girl. Like a fair-weathered fan, I can heartily exclaim, "Giants suck." The key difference is that the Giants do suck, a label no one can afix to the Padres. Another sign that a practical fan is never fair-weathered: you will never him say, "Giants rule," when the Giants give the illusion that they don't suck. Practicality reigns, and self-delusion rarely prevails.
How about Cubs fans? There's the mystery. You see, the Cubs don't suck. They rarely come even close to sucking, especially under Dusty Baker's purview, but for some reason locked up in the vaults of a mischievous god, they never get to "rule," much as the Red Sox never got to rule before last October. Cubs fans are as far across the spectrum from the fair-weathereds as humanly possible. If every member of the Cub's dynamite pitching staff allowed 5 runs per inning across five separate games, Cubs fans would pull out their hair, flagellate themselves, fast for days, and collapse from blood-pressure spikes, but never—ever—would they say, "Cubs suck." Weep, beat their wives, eat cold soup from a can while sitting in their underwear, sure. But to a Cubs fan, there is no such thing as suckage. If anyone deserves victory more deeply, it's the Cubs fan. BoSox got theirs. Time to share the love.
What of the last category I mention: fans who find new love at the least predictable times? I guess I created that distinction to give me some refuge from the role of practical fan. You see, I'm so thrilled to have more than one hometown team that I feel positively promiscuous about my see-saw shifts in passion. The Washington Nationals took me by complete surprise this year. I grew up in a baseball-free D.C., and never could have predicted that one day I would root so fiercely for a team that's now 3,000 miles away. And to be clear, I've followed and cheered the Nationals since the start of their season, long before they climbed to the top of their division, lest I be confused with one of those horrid FWs of which I've spoken.
What does it all mean?
Going into this season, I was as big and committed a Giants fan as the rest of the Giants nuts out here (thought considerably less offensive than the East Bay variety). Another year of Bonds, now with Moises Alou watching his back. How cool was that going to be? And we had a new closer, Armando Benitez, who had a reputation, albeit a predictable one to seasoned hitters. Newbies like Lance Niekro were showing they could replace our stars of today—if not this season, then one season soon.
Now that I've all but spurned the Giants because of their organization's complete inability to recoup from catastrophes, I've been thinking about the difference between fair-weathered fans, practical fans, Cubs fans, and fans who find new love at the least predictable times. Let's take a look at them.
San Diego Padres fans, now that their team is doing so well, are what I'd call fair-weathered. The Padres weren't poop a couple of seasons ago. They've got a new park, lots of attention, and are doing well in a division with only three decent teams (themselves, Dodgers, and Arizona). While in San Diego, I was shocked at the arrogance and pomposity, the threadbare ability of Padres fans to contain their frustration when the Cubs took a 4-game series from them. Didn't they have better things to do with their energy than heap scorn on the Cubs, who statistically aren't as strong as they are? That's a fair-weathered fan. Afraid that their tenuous grasp on greatness might evaporate. And if the greatness should evaporate, I fear for the Padres, because their fans will start pointing fingers and turning their backs and saying things like, "Padres suck."
How does that differ from a practical fan? A practical fan, like myself, is more level-headed. I know why the Giants did so well over the last four or five years. Barry Bonds and Dusty Baker and the magical fallout from their involvement. Now that Dusty is gone and Barry is, to all intents and purposes, gone, the magic fails. The Giants were never, in all the years I've adored them, a great team. They just had a lot of good things going in their favor. Circumstance, glamor, and the confluence of intimidation (Bonds) and veteran cohesion. I don't care enough about the Giants to ridicule them, or flip-flop like a fickle little girl. Like a fair-weathered fan, I can heartily exclaim, "Giants suck." The key difference is that the Giants do suck, a label no one can afix to the Padres. Another sign that a practical fan is never fair-weathered: you will never him say, "Giants rule," when the Giants give the illusion that they don't suck. Practicality reigns, and self-delusion rarely prevails.
How about Cubs fans? There's the mystery. You see, the Cubs don't suck. They rarely come even close to sucking, especially under Dusty Baker's purview, but for some reason locked up in the vaults of a mischievous god, they never get to "rule," much as the Red Sox never got to rule before last October. Cubs fans are as far across the spectrum from the fair-weathereds as humanly possible. If every member of the Cub's dynamite pitching staff allowed 5 runs per inning across five separate games, Cubs fans would pull out their hair, flagellate themselves, fast for days, and collapse from blood-pressure spikes, but never—ever—would they say, "Cubs suck." Weep, beat their wives, eat cold soup from a can while sitting in their underwear, sure. But to a Cubs fan, there is no such thing as suckage. If anyone deserves victory more deeply, it's the Cubs fan. BoSox got theirs. Time to share the love.
What of the last category I mention: fans who find new love at the least predictable times? I guess I created that distinction to give me some refuge from the role of practical fan. You see, I'm so thrilled to have more than one hometown team that I feel positively promiscuous about my see-saw shifts in passion. The Washington Nationals took me by complete surprise this year. I grew up in a baseball-free D.C., and never could have predicted that one day I would root so fiercely for a team that's now 3,000 miles away. And to be clear, I've followed and cheered the Nationals since the start of their season, long before they climbed to the top of their division, lest I be confused with one of those horrid FWs of which I've spoken.
What does it all mean?
posted by Andrew at
11:21 PM
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