Yesterday was the opening day of Major League Baseball's season; an event so momentous, so holy, so thoroughly representative of all that is right and true in America that I feel compelled to stop and take a minute to tell you how very much I despise it.
It's not baseball itself that I dislike. While it is arguably the dullest televised sport this side of professional hair growing, that in-and-of-itself is no sin. In fact I rather enjoy it up close and in person. There's plenty of time for drinking and chatting and, as I have no rooting interests whatsoever, I won't have my enjoyment despoiled if the home team loses, goofy ditties notwithstanding.
Nor do I especially care who's doing what drugs. Put 'em all on steroids, says I! And coke. And pills. At least then there'd be something approaching a level playing field.
I don't mind Jesus, but some of his fans are such assholes!Thus, my basic position on baseball. The gentleman in the photo above is sporting what had to be a $300 jacket (I did a half-assed search of the Yankees website and couldn't find it) with an enormous corporate logo on the back. What that says to me is, "I'm a joiner. I saw what all the other kids were doing and I wanted in. Because then they'll like me. I'll be one of the cool kids if I wear this team's gear and know the good players names and cheer at the appropriate times."
Indeed, be a cool kid. I'll be over here with the kids who dress all in black and who everyone worries might open fire in the cafeteria one day.
Opening Day (and the 6 narcolepsy-inducing months that follow it) are bathed in a noxious sense of righteousness that people like Mr. Jacket up there simply live for. Many of my coworkers were walking around the office yesterday in baseball shirts and feeling terribly clever about themselves for doing so. My employer held an Opening Day Event at which they gave away a Nintendo Wii to the person who won some manner of baseball related video game tournament. The New York Times ran a live blog of the Yankee game because, y'know, there are only 161 more left after this (the attendant photo begged the question, "Can a man as fat as CC Sabathia call himself an athlete with a straight face?").
All of this is especially galling in the NYC metro region, where the baseball culture basically amounts to The Haves vs. The Have Even Mores. Being a Yankees/Mets/Phillies/Red Sox fan is a gutless move. They have all the money, all the best facilities and will always be in contention. Yes, even the Mets, despite the fact that their management style has drawn comparisons to the Baghdad Green Zone (which is on Google Maps?!).
You know what takes guts? Being a Pirates fan. Or a Reds fan. Or a Brewers fan. Go out and cheer for a team that has zero chance of achieving anything. Go to the park for the love of the game, not because you'll see a win better than 60% of the time. Do it for love of the sport, rather than brand recognition.
I'm half tempted to buy a Milwaukee Brewers T-shirt. Hell, I don't know why. To be a pain in the ass anti-Yankee fan? Because my aunt lived in Milwaukee for many years? Because I'm old enough to remember the last time they fielded a halfway decent team (ah, the Robin Yount years)? And there's probably a Jeffrey Dahmer joke in it. Should I do this, I suspect I'll find myself engaging in conversation with baseball fans who would become either belligerent or confused when I explained that I don't watch baseball.
Which could actually be good fun.
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