Threadbare Life Advise and Public Grandstanding
I would not have found this article if Jason over at Faith and Fear did not mention it. It appeared in the Kansas City Star entitled Royals fan, hope is a good thing. The article is in response to a young Royals fan that wrote in detailing his love of his team and the mockery he endures from peers who choose to root for the Yankees, Red Sox, and Etc. Joe Posnanski writes a lovely piece in respect to youth and the wonders of being a young fan:
Yes, it is hard being a Royals fan in these troubled times. But, take comfort in this: You are doing the right thing. Yes, as you say, some of your Kansas City friends take the easy route and choose the Yankees or Red Sox or Cardinals as their favorite teams. My dear friend, you will run into these kinds of people all your life. They will cut you off on highways. They will go through the 12-items-and-under supermarket lane with enough food to feed the Three Tenors. They will push their airline seats all the way back into your pelvis on overseas flights.
You are different. You write, “I will love the Royals, no matter what.” You are worth so much more than the kid who ran out to pick up a Chicago White Sox hat last year.
And in conclusion:
When you get older you might lose some of your hope. It happens. There is something about the years that is hard to explain to a 10-year-old. You start complaining that the owner doesn’t spend enough money and the general manager is dumb and the star player doesn’t care. You might even grow so discouraged that you stop caring at all.
I wish this for you: That you will never lose your hope. You’re right. Angel Berroa might win the Gold Glove this year. Runelvys Hernandez might win 20 games. Emil Brown could hit 30 home runs. The Royals are going to win the American League Central this year. Hold on to that. We have no shortage of cynical fans in this world. And if you don’t know what the word “cynical” means, I would ask you not to look it up. You don’t need to know yet.
While I usually distain the open letter form of communication as it is usually a vehicle for threadbare life advice and public grandstanding, I take a deviation from my policy as Joe McCheese’s story did not delve into the potential extent of cynical the young fan should brace for. If I may, I would like to expand on Jason's thought's regarding a common bond with this young royal fan. Jason is a better writer that I am and does not right an open letter. I do. Jason goes back to the late 70's. I won't go back quite as far...
Oh, and to rip off Jason a little more, I will add a disclaimer:
I too admire the young fan and agree with the assessment and advice offered.
End of disclaimer
But, I have some more bittersweet news for the youngster:
Son, let me tell you something. Someday your Royals will put together a season for the ages. Your beloved Royals will be a force to be reckoned with in the AL. They will achieve a postseason birth and possibly a World Title. It’s then that you will truly know the meaning of the word “cynical.” You won’t notice at first as you will be engulfed in a euphoria we all dream of in March but rarely see in September. You will be wrapped in the game and the pennant race.
But you will slowly start to notice them. You will see another baseball enthusiast dressed in your team’s garb. He will look familiar but you won’t be able to put your finger on where you know him from. You will examine him closer:
He will be wearing a Royals hat.
It will be much cleaner than yours. The bill will be flat.
It will look brand new.
It will appear that way because it IS brand new.
It will hit you that you indeed know that man. He will be the same Yankee/Cardinal/Red Sox fan that chided you years past. You will think, “Is this a joke, did he lose a bet?” When you demand an explanation he will say, “I’ve always been a Royals, fan. I’ve liked them since they had George Brett.” You will have this experience dozens, neigh hundreds, neigh thousands of times and you realize the parasites that occupy Yankee/Cardinal/Red Sox hats have contaminated your beloved team. They will all be Royal fans. They will sit in the seats you usually sit in. You will sit in a third deck/ obstructed view/ outfield seat and remember what Bill Veeck said:
“I have discovered in 20 years of moving around a ballpark, that the knowledge of the game is usually in inverse proportion to the price of the seats.”
You will have to tolerate this charade and it will be bearable as your Royals are on their way to being World Champs. It will be an exciting series, maybe seven games.
Then things start to go into a decline. Your team will mismanage its talent. For instance, your Series MVP will go to another team the next year. It will be revealed that your staff ace has a substance abuse problem. They will make another run at a Title and fall short. The management will release your favorite catcher and the team will make a puzzling trade that will send your favorite outfielder and a reliable reliever for a second basemen who will be assigned to the outfield. Your team will slowly dive in to mediocrity and plummet to rock bottom. The team will expand its payroll to stop the bleeding. They will bring in quick fix free agents in an ineffective attempt to halt the decline.
It won’t help.
It will probably hurt.
You will feel cold, frustrated, and very, very alone.
Coincidently you will be alone.
What about all those “new fans” you’ve met and grudgingly accepted as brethren?
They’ve moved on to another team once maybe twice by now.
How do I know this?
It happened to me, son I was there! I got scars, kid.
What solace can you take that will ease you through that awful transition? The cycle will start all over and the same events (or some similar, say your GM fires one of the best managers of all time after he turned the team into a contender) will occur afain.
The names will all be different and the details will change with the result the same.
Next time around all you can say to the johnny-come-lately bandwagon hoppers on the way up is:
“Some of us never left.”
How’s that for a definition of the word “cynical?”
Yes, it is hard being a Royals fan in these troubled times. But, take comfort in this: You are doing the right thing. Yes, as you say, some of your Kansas City friends take the easy route and choose the Yankees or Red Sox or Cardinals as their favorite teams. My dear friend, you will run into these kinds of people all your life. They will cut you off on highways. They will go through the 12-items-and-under supermarket lane with enough food to feed the Three Tenors. They will push their airline seats all the way back into your pelvis on overseas flights.
You are different. You write, “I will love the Royals, no matter what.” You are worth so much more than the kid who ran out to pick up a Chicago White Sox hat last year.
And in conclusion:
When you get older you might lose some of your hope. It happens. There is something about the years that is hard to explain to a 10-year-old. You start complaining that the owner doesn’t spend enough money and the general manager is dumb and the star player doesn’t care. You might even grow so discouraged that you stop caring at all.
I wish this for you: That you will never lose your hope. You’re right. Angel Berroa might win the Gold Glove this year. Runelvys Hernandez might win 20 games. Emil Brown could hit 30 home runs. The Royals are going to win the American League Central this year. Hold on to that. We have no shortage of cynical fans in this world. And if you don’t know what the word “cynical” means, I would ask you not to look it up. You don’t need to know yet.
While I usually distain the open letter form of communication as it is usually a vehicle for threadbare life advice and public grandstanding, I take a deviation from my policy as Joe McCheese’s story did not delve into the potential extent of cynical the young fan should brace for. If I may, I would like to expand on Jason's thought's regarding a common bond with this young royal fan. Jason is a better writer that I am and does not right an open letter. I do. Jason goes back to the late 70's. I won't go back quite as far...
Oh, and to rip off Jason a little more, I will add a disclaimer:
I too admire the young fan and agree with the assessment and advice offered.
End of disclaimer
But, I have some more bittersweet news for the youngster:
Son, let me tell you something. Someday your Royals will put together a season for the ages. Your beloved Royals will be a force to be reckoned with in the AL. They will achieve a postseason birth and possibly a World Title. It’s then that you will truly know the meaning of the word “cynical.” You won’t notice at first as you will be engulfed in a euphoria we all dream of in March but rarely see in September. You will be wrapped in the game and the pennant race.
But you will slowly start to notice them. You will see another baseball enthusiast dressed in your team’s garb. He will look familiar but you won’t be able to put your finger on where you know him from. You will examine him closer:
He will be wearing a Royals hat.
It will be much cleaner than yours. The bill will be flat.
It will look brand new.
It will appear that way because it IS brand new.
It will hit you that you indeed know that man. He will be the same Yankee/Cardinal/Red Sox fan that chided you years past. You will think, “Is this a joke, did he lose a bet?” When you demand an explanation he will say, “I’ve always been a Royals, fan. I’ve liked them since they had George Brett.” You will have this experience dozens, neigh hundreds, neigh thousands of times and you realize the parasites that occupy Yankee/Cardinal/Red Sox hats have contaminated your beloved team. They will all be Royal fans. They will sit in the seats you usually sit in. You will sit in a third deck/ obstructed view/ outfield seat and remember what Bill Veeck said:
“I have discovered in 20 years of moving around a ballpark, that the knowledge of the game is usually in inverse proportion to the price of the seats.”
You will have to tolerate this charade and it will be bearable as your Royals are on their way to being World Champs. It will be an exciting series, maybe seven games.
Then things start to go into a decline. Your team will mismanage its talent. For instance, your Series MVP will go to another team the next year. It will be revealed that your staff ace has a substance abuse problem. They will make another run at a Title and fall short. The management will release your favorite catcher and the team will make a puzzling trade that will send your favorite outfielder and a reliable reliever for a second basemen who will be assigned to the outfield. Your team will slowly dive in to mediocrity and plummet to rock bottom. The team will expand its payroll to stop the bleeding. They will bring in quick fix free agents in an ineffective attempt to halt the decline.
It won’t help.
It will probably hurt.
You will feel cold, frustrated, and very, very alone.
Coincidently you will be alone.
What about all those “new fans” you’ve met and grudgingly accepted as brethren?
They’ve moved on to another team once maybe twice by now.
How do I know this?
It happened to me, son I was there! I got scars, kid.
What solace can you take that will ease you through that awful transition? The cycle will start all over and the same events (or some similar, say your GM fires one of the best managers of all time after he turned the team into a contender) will occur afain.
The names will all be different and the details will change with the result the same.
Next time around all you can say to the johnny-come-lately bandwagon hoppers on the way up is:
“Some of us never left.”
How’s that for a definition of the word “cynical?”
posted by Talking Head at
8:23 AM
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