On Diehard Fandom

It’s been a busy week and I haven’t had a chance to post anything. I don’t really want to write a recap on either the Miami or Detroit series. The name “Marlins” immediately takes me back to 1997 and the single worst day of my life and the Detroit series was the worst. Turrible, as Mr. Barkley would say. The Tribe got swept, lost Corey Kluber (my Tribe man crush) for probably the rest of the season, and have fallen seven games behind the Tigers in the race for the division. The WORST!!! Ugh. I don’t even want to talk about it.

Instead, I would like to write about what it means to be a diehard fan and truly love a team. I’ll start with three observations:

1. I have only said “I love you” to one girl in my entire life and I hate the word “love”. Buuuut, I use it all the flippin time when discussing both the Indians as a team and individual players. I cried when Victor Martinez, my all time favorite player who I loved so very much, was traded to the Red Sox in 2009. There I was alone in my car, driving home from work, bawling. 

2. I own more Cleveland Indians’ shirts than pairs of underwear. Seriously. I was packing the other day and noticed this. And it’s not like I’m some gross goober who only owns a few pairs of boxers. I just have a poop ton of Tribe shirts.

3. If the Indians ever win the World Series, it will be the happiest day of my life. It will rank ahead of getting married, having kids, and the time I saw Gatsby the dog fart and burp at the same time.

That is what makes a true fan, this level of commitment and emotional attachment to a sports team. When I get home from work and see the Tribe lost a game, I feel physically ill. When they lost the 2007 ALCS, I spent an entire week in a depressed daze. The night after Game Seven, I lay in bed with tears perpetually in the corner of my eyes. I was too shocked (and perhaps too Irish) to cry. 

I was texting with my old roommate Justin Lee (if you’re an avid reader, this a name to keep an eye out for) the other day about what it is to be a fan. Here is our conversation:

Justin: The A’s suck lately. If Texas wins tonight, it is a tie atop the division. Fuck baseball.

Me: My thoughts exactly. I hate Chris Perez and his stupid face. Tribe is now 5 back.

Justin: Yeah. It is like when I played poker. When the cards go bad, it just aches. Fuckkkkkk.

Me: Sometimes I find myself investing curse words and phrases. It is so dangerously close to speaking in tongues . . .

Justin: Why the fuck do we do this to ourselves?

Me: Because the day they win it all, whenever it comes, will be a euphoric feeling that will have made the journey completely worth it. 

Justin: Yeah. I have put an abnormal amount of energy into the A’s. This still could be the year. I keep telling myself that. 

There is so much truth in the conversation. It does ache when your team loses and we all seem to find ourselves sitting back and wondering why we subject ourselves to such feelings. After all, baseball is but a game, right? Perhaps. But not to those who love it. To us, it is life. It is hope. It is a distraction from all the other bullshit in our lives. That is why we care. Even though it is a whole lot of crazy.