Brendan Revisits Baseball
I have a complicated relationship with sports. As I mentioned in a past essay, I was so unhealthily obsessed with my Boston sports fandom that I had to step away in order to detox. It brought out a truly ugly side of me and I’ve been way better off without it.
It has been years since I watched a baseball game. So when I was invited to a Dodger game by my volunteer pals at SELAH (a great homelessness outreach organization if you’re the donating type, by the way), I had some reservations. Was I mature enough to go back to the old ballpark? Was I an alcoholic who was saying “I can have just one drink”? Was it going to get ugly again?
There were a few factors that made me feel like I could safely dip my toe back into the sweaty arts. First off, this was Dodger Stadium and not Fenway Park. LA sports fandom is an entirely different animal. It’s all the fun with none of the misery. LA sports fans experience the game as just another form of entertainment instead of some misery-dripping tribal bloodsport. For Dodger fans, whether they beat the Padres has the same emotional impact as whether the Avengers beat Thanos. Plus, I didn’t really have a horse in the race with this game other than a genetic inability to root for an LA or New York team. It’s like that switch in Robocop that doesn’t allow him to shoot Dick Jones.
Still, I had some reservations. What if I reverted to the ugly sports fan version of myself? Would my well-intentioned attempt to revisit the pastoral game of Ye Olde Americaland result in my relapse into Asshole Sports Fan Brendan? To add to the temptation, the Red Sox fanatic in me was being directly drawn in: it was Dave Roberts bobblehead night. Sure - Roberts is an old man now, but the memory of his steal against the Yankees in the 2004 ALCS still shoots pure adrenaline into my balls.
My old metaphorical drinking buddy Dave Roberts was inviting me back to the bar for just one round! Despite my reservations, I decided to risk a trip to Chavez Ravine. It’s peanuts and Cracker Jack time, bitches!
First off, the pitch clock is fan-fucking-tastic. For those who don’t know, Major League Baseball recently added a fifteen-second time limit for pitches. While purists say that it may kill the tension and drama of a late inning mental chess game between pitcher and hitter, who has the time? We breezed through the game in just over two hours. It was perfect!
Also, the National League has finally listened to reason and adopted the designated hitter. Again, baseball purists like the strategy of when to pull the pitcher. But to me, that’s nerdy. I want the best possible hitter against the best possible pitcher at all times. Plus, who wants to watch a pitcher hit? It’s like watching white girls dance.
But really, you go to the stadium to experience the crowd. I hadn’t been to Dodger Stadium since 2001 when I watched them play the Red Sox. Of course, the Red Sox fans outnumbered the Dodgers fans five-to-one, so it was like being in Fenway again. Honestly, I haven’t had a lot of experience in stadiums with non-Boston people. Turns out - it’s very pleasant! People are generally in a good mood. I didn’t hear one single loudmouth spewing vitriol and no one started a fistfight with a teenager. It was weird. Did you know people lived like this? The only disappointment for me was when the crowd started booing a Padres home run, I started my typical “Boo-urns!” shout. Sadly, I didn’t get the desired response.
So I learned that a trip to a professional baseball game can be a pleasant and conflict-free experience. I didn’t get angry once. In fact, I didn’t see ANYone who was angry. Everyone was just having fun. Who knew?
The whole experience left me with questions. Have I changed? Has the west coast mellowed me out? Is my edge and passion leaving me in my old age? Do I even miss those parts of me? I am not sure about any of it. But one thing is for sure - it feels good to be free of all the tension and negativity. I feel emboldened that maybe I can enjoy sports again as a grownup. It’s time for the next step…
I’m going to watch a Patriots game on television this year.
Boogie Writes is a completely independent endeavor by one hard-working funnyman trying to make his way in the world today (which takes everything you’ve got.) If you like what you read, please subscribe, support, and tell a friend! Also - do you need advice? Of course you do! Send your queries to brendan@brendanboogie.com with “Dear Boogie” in the subject and get some solid or at least passable advice!