I am so devastated about what happened to the Eagles yesterday that I am in no position to write about the NFL Playoffs going on right now, so I'm going to try something different. It's one of those random things I've been thinking about for a little while, good enough that I'm not going to talk about the BCS Championship like a million other people, or how Nnamdi Asomugha is now a free agent, or how the Heat are winning every night like ESPN spends half of Sportscenter talking about every day, or how Rex Ryan won't shut up and coach, or how the Mountain West has two teams in the Men's Basketball top 10 (yes, it's true), or how Carmelo might be going to New Jersey, or how Marshawn Lynch can't be stopped, or how Michigan might have a new coach after three years of losing under RichRod, or how Kemba Walker continues to dominate college basketball. Nope, I'll pass up all of those topics to ponder this question, which relates to why we care at least a little bit about all of this stuff in the first place. What exactly is it in sports that makes us devote countless hours of our time staring at, or if our team is on, screaming at the TV, spend far too much money on merchandise, and buy ridiculously-priced tickets to, in many of our cases, make a commute to a stadium in a city full of traffic, an overcrowded public venue, where, once you finally find your seat, there's probably gum or something sticky on it, as well as the guy behind you screaming obscenities before he drunkenly spills beer on you, on top of the fact that the temperature outside might just be subzero and your seat is behind a pole or something, all to watch a couple kajillionaires throw a ball around.
Love of the game for us fans? Yeah, that's certainly a factor. I could go on and on about that and bore you to death about that; for that is definitely a reason why, but any sports fan knows they love their favorite sport already. There's simply something else, something more, that triggers our brains to devote so much of our time to what is just a game.
You might never have even thought of sports this way before. It's an industry that has us hooked, an addiction in a sense. Why? Well, right now I'm going to try and figure that out, put on my Sherlock Holmes trench coat or whatever.
The people that hate their city's teams, well, the frontrunners in many cases, I'll never understand them. Yeah, yeah, your second cousin once removed lived in Dallas, so obviously you are entitled to be a Cowboys fan. Mmhm. Makes a boatload of sense. But for those loyal fans that love their city's team (and no, I'm not talking about the people who jump on the bandwagon once their team makes the championship), that watch them every time they're on, city pride is definitely a factor. I live in Philly. The fans here are known for getting tasered, drunkenly vomiting on cops and their families, and the such. Fans here boo the guys that are the reason our team became good in the first place. Many of them are complete fools. But the one thing everyone still has, much of the time to a far too great extent? Yup. Pride. When the Phillies win the World Series (as they will this year) we all get to go rub it in the face of the Mets fans who are privileged enough to now perennially watch their team suffer. When a team wins, a city wins, just as New Orleans demonstrated after their Super Bowl win last year (not gonna happen again, said the now 8-9 Seahawks.)
But wait a second. That still doesn't totally answer the question. The citizens of a city aren't the guys on the field, or court, etc. Nope. It's the athletes, many of them fresh out of the police station, or even jail, convicted dog-killers, or guys who've served time for manslaughter (not many), but the DUIs are countless, all this because they think they're on top of the world. The clueless ones, anyway, who think because they're a celebrity they can get away with that stuff. Why should a city cheer for them, millionaire criminals. Well, most of them aren't, for one. The good guys of sports vastly outnumber the bad (at least, that's how it appears), the Curtis Grandersons, Aubrey Huffs, and Jim Joyces of sports. Or is it all an act? Is that just to promote fans to regard them and their teams well? Do the players actually care about the fans, who are the reason they are so filthy rich in the first place? Is signing autographs and doing charity work and the such just for a good image for them, to make their lives easier?
For some athletes, that could be the case. But many of them, they realize they really are blessed to be in the position they are in, and do humanitarian acts out of kindness as they should. They're not fake. The other day I saw a documentary as part of ESPN's Year of the Quarterback, called Tim Tebow: Everything In Between. Now I know I'm getting a little off topic here, but when he went to that hospital to comfort a child who eventually would die, and text him for days after, I knew it was out of his heart, and not an act to promote his image, as, however unfortunately, some of the guys do.
My point from this is hard to understand, especially taking this question I posed originally into account, but it all links together. To put it all into simpler terms, I'm just further questioning our devotion to sports, wondering why we seem to bond, or at least strongly root for these athletes, even though most couldn't care less about each individual fan, like each of us care about them. Because in sports, they are the ones playing, not us. We don't win the Lombardi trophy, but as a fan, when our team wins, a speck of it goes to us.
I've been incredibly busy lately and haven't written in five weeks, but I can guarantee there will be a new post early this week and regularly after that.
here we go steelers here we go!
ReplyDeletewell, it won't be a pa superbowl in dallas, that would have been sweet! shame the eagles had to choke. maybe pgh & green bay? your other favorite team!
ReplyDeleteI read a book a couple years ago called "Feeding the Monster" by Seth Mnookin. The book analyzes the actions taken by the Red Sox brass to ultimately win the World Series in 2004. Fantastic book; Red Sox fan or not, I highly recommend it.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, Mnookin is fascinated by dedication and passion of the Red Sox fan base. During the 86-year World Series drought, the Red Sox suffered innumerable setbacks, to say the very least. Though not an era of futility, it was certainly one of heart break.
How is it, Mnookin wonders, that a team that sold Babe Ruth, watched in disbelief as Enos Slaughter made his famous "Mad Dash," failed to complete the "Impossible Dream of 1967," watched their 1978 season fall apart at the hands of an offensive liability named Bucky Dent of the hated Yankees, saw destiny squirm between the legs of Bill Buckner, and witnessed Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS slip through their fingers to Aaron Boone and the Yankees?
Speaking strictly baseball, Mnookin contends that baseball fans feel a certain kinship to the sport. But it is deeper than simply loving the game.
Life is reflected in baseball, according to Mnookin. Baseball reflects the difficulties, simplicities, and the luck, both good and bad, of life. Imagine smashing a line drive down the right field line. Just before the ball comes down to earth, the right fielder lays himself out and comes up with a spectacular catch, taking away at least two bases. Now imagine the guy after you hits a dribbler up the middle off the end of the bat and it squeaks past both middle infielders' gloves for a hit. It just doesn't seem fair, does it? You hit the ball on the screws, you demonstrated power, you squared it up, and the guy after you hit an easy squeaker. Baseball, like life, is not fair.
Fans see themselves in baseball players. Their chicken legs, their slim frames, their All-American personas and temperaments. Baseball and its players are the embodiment of American simplicity and innocence. They demonstrate the carefree nature and the sense of normalcy that America has been longing for since the end of World War I, but has never had.
Through the dark times, baseball has always been a refuge for Americans. From the horror of World War I, to the economic despair of the Great Depression, the destruction and tragedy of World War II, the heat of the Cold War, the patterns of social change in the 1960s, and most recently the war on terror, baseball has been there.
Think about it, baseball has uncannily followed American history and the change this nation has undergone. Jackie Robinson, the first African-American to play Major League Baseball, helped touch-off the Civil Rights Movement. His poise under scrutiny and his remarkable playing ability under such pressure amid death threats, ensured a peaceful movement. That's amazing; something as simple as baseball paved the way to achieving social justice to the extent that neither the Founding Fathers nor Abraham Lincoln could have wanted or imagined. But baseball, namely Branch Rickey, saw the light.
It's a beautiful thing baseball; the intricacies of the rulebook and subtitles of a well-turned double play. But the deeper meaning of the game speaks louder than a screaming umpire or the hard, but satisfying thud of a catcher's mitt as it catches a blazing fastball.
Sorry, sentence fragment. I meant to ask in paragraph three how the Red Sox manage to maintain a consistent and loyal fan base in spite of all those heartbreaking moments. Let me know what you think.
ReplyDeleteWell, first of all, I like how you tied in World War I and the Depression and the such into your comment, you history major. But that is very true.
ReplyDeleteBut, like you said, you've got to hand it to the city of Boston for supporting their team as they did through those years of futility. I know that when the Phillies had all those tough years back when they played in the Vet, the seats would be less than halfway full. But in Boston, they'd sell out Fenway either way. The current Philly home sellout streak is only a result of their recent winning ways.
And, to elaborate on yours, or Moonkin's point about baseball relating to life, and not always fair, well, it always seems to even out in the end. If you are a good enough hitter, no matter if you get robbed of a few home runs, some of your hits will find green or the seats.
Regarding the fragment, I figured out your point at first. In a simple aspect, it's not as if the Red Sox had been a basement team all those years; they are commonly competitive, resulting in a dedicated fan base. But even when they weren't, the fans stuck around. The fans up in New England, they seem to love their teams as much as anyone. A team like the Rays, on the other hand, have a terribly difficult time filling the seats, even when the team is contending, as well as playoff games?
Why is this? Well, location comes into play. In Florida, since it is such a large tourist spot, and, well, Florida in general, there is much more to do other than attend a sporting event. Rather than spending a Sunday afternoon in a dome, they could be outside at a beach. New stadiums for the Rays and Marlins will certainly increase their attendance.
Further, Floridians just aren't into their sports teams as a whole. They see it as just another activity, if I may say so, and not something that defines their city, or state. At the start of the NBA season, after the Miami Heat had acquired LeBron James and Chris Bosh to go along with Dwyane Wade, they still couldn't sell out games. As a result, the Heat organization released an embarrassing ad for the fans to "fan up" and show the country that they're worthy of this team.
Back to baseball, it's referred to as "America's Pastime" for a reason. It doesn't seem to attract the nation the way it used to, before our generation, with almost every family tuning into the radio for games every weekend afternoon. With modern times, it doesn't seem to bring everyone together the way it did, at least I get that impression from what I've read. That being said, there is still that "feeling" you experience at a game. The Cracker Jacks, the vendors, the singing of the National Anthem, God Bless America, and Take Me Out to the Ballgame. The most thunderous applause for the fan favorite, the hot dogs, the young kids at their very first game. That all still exists You know what I'm talking about. It's something unexplainable, but it's the beauty of the game of baseball. The tradition and history of Fenway have been able to preserve that more than anywhere else, as well as Wrigley Field, which is a prime reason standing room only is sold at those stadiums every single game.
Last but not least, if you ever wanted to write a post for the blog, feel free. If you want, I can make you an admin or poster or whatever the term for it is.