A New York Yankee in Boston

Eugene writes in his blog, "Christina and Eric took me to the Seahawks-49ers game today. It reminded me of how obnoxious football fans can be." Eugene, it needs to be noted, is a die-hard Cubs fan. I can't be sure if his fanaticism is up there with Adam's, but considering that he, at the last minute, bought a ticket from Seattle to Chicago to attend a playoff game, I'd say it's close (Adam would do things like that too if he didn't have a female life partner who managed the house finances [how in the heck do you avoid the word "wife" gracefully?]). Now I know that generally this can be counted on to be a baseball-free blog, but given that Adam has abandoned his blog and Eugene made this barb, I can't help but point out, yes, football fans are obnoxious. But they have nothing on--forget baseball fans--the baseball players. After watching Saturday night's Yankee-Red Sox showdown at Fenway, I've decided baseball is too violent a sport for the Doodlebug to watch. Between the fight between Pedro and Don Zimmer (and here Adam and I disagree--Adam thinks Zimmer deserved it; I say no matter how much he deserves it, you don't throw down an 72-year-old man) and the Fenway groundskeeper getting mauled by two Yankees, baseball is not a family sport. And let's face it, the fans aren't any better. I've heard Red Sox/Yankee fans going at each other. It's not suitable for prime time. And if the Cubs lose tonight, that ball-snatching fan's life is in danger.

David Brooks wrote a wonderful Op-Ed piece entitled "Our Way: Root and Hoot" (which I won't link directly to because it disappears from the site in a short time) for the New York Times in which he writes:

It's interesting, for example, to turn and watch Yankee and Red Sox fans as they watch a game. As the game goes on, they almost never display pleasure, contentment or joy. Instead, during the game they experience long periods of contempt interrupted by short bursts of vindication.

If one of their players has just grounded out, they regard him with a gaze that suggests he has just betrayed his country. If he has hit a home run, they treat it as evidence that the pathetic bum on the field has finally lived up to the standard set by their superlative fandom. Then comes the taunting.

Some people claim that American men have trouble expressing their emotions. Not at Yankee Stadium or Fenway Park. Toward the end of the game I attended in the Bronx, when it was clear the Yankees were going to win, the Yankee partisans turned to their brethren from the Bay State to let them know which part of the anatomy they resemble.

They started chanting a two-syllable word to summarize this conclusion. First they chanted it in reference to the Red Sox fans. Then they chanted it in reference to the Red Sox players. Then they chanted it in reference to nothing, just for the aesthetic satisfaction of it. Art for art's sake.

Side note: I frighten even myself. Speaking with a girlfriend, another new mom in Boston (her son is eleven days older than the Doodlebug), we actually spent a good five minutes discussing the Saturday game. Hey, did you see that? Out your window? I think that pig was actually flying!