The Boo Bird Sniper

True devotion to a baseball team lies in the subtle tally of hundreds of smaller questions one must face on a daily basis.

Is the biggest fan necessarily the best fan? Does the ability to stay until the very last out while simultaneously chiding fellow patrons who are somberly filing out make you a more noble supporter? Is the suffering which accompanies heartbreaking loss a social mechanism which contributes to the experience, the bonding, the ritual of supporting a team...or are the depths of private disappointment and harrowing defeat what draws you closer to the game? And speaking of the game - what do you love more about the game itself? Gifted writers like George Will and Studs Turkel waxing poetic about the symmetry of the playing field and the contrasting complexities of the events taking place between those lines? Or is it the crack of the bat and the thrill of the crowd? Perhaps it's the beer cups collecting at your feet while arms hook over shoulders after a satisfying win?

While the endless questions mount, one type of "fan" has most recently caught my attention. They are the people who buy a ticket, get to the park, spend money on concessions... and then boo the players. They boo their guy, an All-Star, in the postseason. These are probably the same people who call AM Sports Talk radio shows and exclaim, "I was there!". They write off these players on the grand stage of baseball in the United States in twelve “life altering” at-bats. These are the fans that come to represent a fanbase. They feel a duty to vigilantly dole out vociferous disparages towards players who have, by not reaching base, explicitly wronged them. So, they boo. They boo people who are overpaid and over appreciated. They boo them because these athletes can handle it. After all, they make millions of dollars and still they can't lay off high heat. What else are we to do? They whiff and cost us glory. They are separate from us fans in the stands, therefore they must not understand the stakes of this game like we do.

England and the USA tend to differ in everyday diction and vocabulary. Sometimes the change is amusing, while other times it's confusing. Occasionally, it's actually quite telling...


Fan (short for fanatic) n. (US)- A person marked or motivated by an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm, as for a cause (or team in this case).

Supporter n. (England)- An adherent, follower, backer, or advocate.

Those don’t seem that different, do they? After all, we use the word "fan" casually. It's not like we are fundamentalists who seem to derive power based on some disjointed baseball neurosis. I understand that this point I'm trying to make is a minor one, I do. But just look at those two words for a second - wouldn't you say one of those seems more unconditional than the other? I'm of the thought that the words we choose as a society to represent aspects of our lives are not unimportant. Here's another one:

Team n. (US)- A number of persons forming one of the sides in a game or contest.

Club n. (England)- A group of persons organized for an athletic purpose.

I always like the dichotomy of this one. The idea of a team seems to denote an "otherness" about the proceedings whereas the word club invites the supporters to feel joined with the men on the pitch. In a completely word-based reality, the Team/Fanatic relationship would appear far more contentious than the Club/Supporter dynamic, what with them swapping secret handshakes and chanting ancient songs.

Some of you may be shaking your heads right now and thinking to yourself... Is AK trying to argue that they don't boo at soccer matches in England? The fact is, I don't really know the degree to which they boo or don't boo. I haven't witnessed it, but I know they do some outlandish shit when faced with the combination of alcohol and losing. I'm only trying to muse on where exactly booing lands on the spectrum of being "in support" of a team. For myself, I really wish we didn't have the booing of a home team during postseason games (i.e. fans booing the Cubs towards the end of Saturday night's Game 3). It seems needless and shortsighted. I understand the frustration, but you can't hide behind the "I paid money for my ticket, and if I don't get exactly what I want, I'm going to piss and moan like a petulant child when they don't hoist the championship trophy this year" rap. Get over yourself. You cheer when good things happen and boo when bad things happen, you’re a forgone conclusion and you lack the ability to see the forest through the trees.

Sorry folks, I just had to get that out of my system.


So the Cubs got swept out of the NLDS after a thrilling, cardiac season where they overcame in-fighting and handled wild expectations. I enjoyed the season immensely because, for one, we snatched back the title of "Best Baseball Team in Chicago" from the White Sox. Always a good thing. Which is why I can't accept the assertion that simply because this six month rollercoaster season ended in early October instead of early November, it became a zero sum event. I'm not onboard with that. I had a great time and I can't wait for the Hot Stove trade talks in December.

Moving ahead, that leaves us with Colorado and Arizona. An NL West showdown spanning deserts and lofty mountain ranges. Don't get me wrong, they are both great stories in the sense that both teams were largely marginalized at the All-Star break and are now on the doorstep of greatness. They define a spectacular year, something separate and unique. But do people look back with an awed hush at the 2002 Angels or the 2003 Marlins? No, they were nice teams with lax fans who heated up at the right time. Where are the epic storylines that span generations? The Yankees and Red Sox are mildly annoying when they pair up in the regular season, but when it happens in the playoffs it becomes required viewing. I think any NLCS combination of the Cubs, Mets, Phillies, Dodgers or Brewers could had some substantial appeal to the greater baseball world because of the solid fans, cities and (quite frankly) teams. I recognize that this might make me an obnoxious Cubs fan who only likes historically significant teams in the World Series, but I'm comfortable with that. As of right now, I'm rooting for the Indians because they are an immensely likable team. Also, Major League quotes come pouring out of my mouth uncontrolably.

As far as discussing Game 3, I have no desire to do so. TK came into town and we had a good weekend. Our Sunday plans fizzled in a haze of double plays and runners left onbase, so we spent the day with our heads on a swivel at Hi Tops watching NFL games and drinking light beer from pitchers. We swapped oddball movie lines and ate nachos to sustain life. Once in a while, we'd clink glasses together and cheers with mock glee, "It's Gunna Happen!" and "Next Year, Bro!" just to crack ourselves up. And so it went, from the beginning to end, another year in the books.

(photos courtesy of TK)