I Liked, Therefore I Was (A Short Discussion on Sports Fan Philosophy)

Preteen me started out as a biased, novice, ignorant sports fan. When I became a fan of a team, an event, or an athlete, I became a supposed fan of that sport. In other words, I liked, therefore I was. I was a fan of the in-school pep rallies we got to have every late January because the Bills went to the Super Bowl, thus I was a fan of football. I became a fan of Steve Young’s striking good looks, thus I was even more a fan of football. I was a fan of my dad dragging me to Rochester Amerks games when he was able to score free tickets, thus I was a fan of hockey. I wanted to be Kristi Yamaguchi, therefore I liked figure skating. I liked the hoards of hot guys in indoor track, thus I joined the track team.

Here’s the converse of becoming a fan in that fashion--you absolutely despise other events, teams and athletes, but you can not tangibly explain why. I hated the Dallas Cowboys, because they were the arch enemy of both Steve Young and the Bills. Never mind that the early-mid 90s Cowboys were amazing on both sides of the ball, were crazy dominant, and probably were not the dirty cheaters my father pinned them to be. I hated them with every ounce of hate a twelve year old could muster. They caused the Monday after the Super Bowl to be the saddest day at school--every time you spotted a stray streamer in the #52 School gym from Friday’s pep rally, you got choked up. I liked the Amerks, but I couldn’t tell you why I was booing the Hershey Bears--I couldn’t tell you if they were actually any good, what college teams the players came from, if they had a good defense. I liked the hot guys, but my running form was awful and I couldn‘t tell you what half the events were--plus, when my coach tried to get me to practice hurdles, I often tripped over them not for lack of vertical leap (hey, I had been a gymnast, thus I had vertical leap to spare,) but because I was staring at the guys on my team. It's not just me--think of a Boston University or Boston College student whose first introduction to hockey is in college. They hate the other school's team, although most of them, at first or ever, can tell anyone else exactly why they should hate them.

Eventually, around the time I decided to become a sports journalist, I realized I had to learn a little bit more about the sports I liked. With that education came a dispelling of many of the dislikes I had carried with me since my tweenaged days, replaced with an appreciation of a good offense and excellent form, and the ability to call out a bad call or a missed tackle. Even though the whole sports journalist thing never did quite work out, to this day I try to stay neutral, enjoying the sport for exactly what it is, and trying desperately not to take sides.

Take Chris and I at the University of New Hampshire on Friday evening, watching the Boston University hockey team play a highly ranked Wildcat team. Everything I know about hockey tells me UNH is talented, and that Boston University relies too heavily on its defense and Hobey Baker quality goalie. UNH played poorly in the third, however, missing passes in the Terrier zone that could have been set up for some easy goals. However, I found myself defending the Wildcats, because my sports knowledge tells me they are good. I held back rooting on the Terriers because I can point out their flaws. This is not the first time this has happened. It is as if an alarm goes off in my brain if I start to get too biased towards one side that academically (as in the study of sports, not the team’s GPA) isn’t deserving of all of my support. In some instances, I can fully realize that the team is good, but the alarm orders me to stay neutral because I, as a “smart” sports fan, need to be a fan of the sport as a whole, and not any individual team.

I am still a fan of teams, I will still cheer, but there’s always that reluctance. I desperately want to be a serious, knowledgeable sports fan--but to do so, do you have to give up all bias? If you truly were an academic sports fan, your favourite team would be who was best in a given year, meaning in sports like football, where there is such parity, your favourite team will most likely change every year. Gosh, I’d love to cheer on the Bills till I’m royal blue in the face, but why am I doing so when they so obviously weren’t the best team in the NFL this year? If I have the knowledge to know better, than why do I cheer for them? Should it be treated like the legal world’s assumption of risk--it could be introduced that you have access to the knowledge that the team you are rooting for is horrible, but it can’t be used against you if you do not heed it?

Living in Boston, I live amidst many who claim to be baseball experts, but who wear their Red Sox hearts on their sleeves. Does this make them less of baseball experts? Possibly, because they are more likely biased. It’s considered a high crime to acknowledge that, hey, Jeter actually may be pretty good, but still root for the Red Sox at the end of the day. It’s just like knowing there wasn’t one Bills fan in Canton, OH this past August with a Troy Aikman jersey on, or there will never be a Boston University hockey fan who will even begin to acknowledge that maybe Boston College played a better game in Worcester last March. Are they less sports knowledgeable than those whose allegiances are silent or change with the handing over of a championship trophy? Better yet, given the pure basis of sports in our modern society, is it even possible to be a sports fan without taking a side?

I’ll keep trying to maintain that happy balance of trying to remain sports knowledgeable while cheering on my favorites, because I imagine there is no right or wrong in this argument. And anyway, the Bills need more fans who knowledgably disregard the fact that if they lose Nate Clements and London Fletcher-Baker, the team is screwed, and cheer for the team anyway.

Random Beanpot Observations, Or View From The Top--of the TD Banknorth Garden

Ah, the Beanpot. The only hockey game all year that the TD Banknorth Garden sells out.

For the second year in a row, I had the opportunity (aka, Chris and I had enough “Terrier loyalty points”) to attend the Beanpot. For my Upstate New Yorkers, the Beanpot is a four university hockey tournament that has been going on for 55 years. It features Boston University, Boston College, Northeastern, and Harvard. The tournament takes place the first two Mondays of February, with two games each night. There is a women’s hockey Beanpot, a baseball beanpot, and even a Rice and Beanpot, but the most well attended and well known is the men’s hockey Beanpot, played at the Fleet-Banknorth-Boston-Garden-Center.

The last thing that y’all Upstate New Yorkers need to know about the Beanpot is that Boston University has won more times than the other three teams combined. Bostonians snidely call it the “BU Invitational.” (And as a good Binghamton alum, I always respond to that by asking, “But I don’t see any Bearcats around.”)

While I can’t contribute much beyond what everyone else in the blogsphere has already, I bring you my thoughts from my second in-person Beanpot final.

I like the Boston University band. They are a traditional, large, hard-core athletic pep band. They play upbeat, horn-led, traditional peppy songs. It’s interesting to compare other schools with the BU Band, which is easy to do at the Beanpot. The Harvard band knows five songs total, but I like their fight song and often have it stuck in my head, so they get props. The Northeastern band had the bright idea to include their cheerleaders, but that always makes me nervous, because they place them in front of them, in the front row of the upper most section at the Garden, which has an unacceptably low guardrail. The Boston College band has recently come to the realization that they are a Top-40 station, and played, among other TRL like material, Ridin’ Dirty by Chamillionaire. I don’t have a problem with that…but how does that pump up a crowd? I mean, “They see me rollin’, they hatin’, they’re trying to catch me ridin’ dirty?” (Mind you, I didn’t have to look up these lyrics, that’s how horrible my musical taste is.) I mean, gosh, I know BC tends to play dirty (hello, Gerbe!), but the band shouldn’t be pointing this out in a song.

A young woman at a sporting event alone (Chris had class during the consolation game, and so I ended up at the Harvard-Northeastern consolation game alone) who has knowledge of the game astounds any male over the age of 50. Case in point: I take a wrong turn and end up on the lower box level of the arena. As I’m trying to get to the escalator that will take me where I should be, I pass one of the Boston University players warming up. There were two middle aged men in front of me on the escalator, and they were staring at the player, astounded that he would be out in public stretching. They turn to me and ask me if I knew what team the player was from. I told them, including name, number, year and position without flinching, and they looked at me like I had three heads. But yes, I’m used to this.

It amazes me that the Garden still will acknowledge that the Celtics play there. They had tons of advertisements on the ribbon board and Jumbotron during breaks in the action for the remaining Celtics games. I mean, when the Bills were low they weren’t even this bad. 18 losses in a row? They haven’t won in over a month? How is that supposed to woo me to finally attend a Celtics game? Can they just totally revamp the team, starting with the pronunciation of the name? It’s the Boston Celt-ics! See them wear kilts! See the dance team Irish dance!

I love the second to last row at sporting events. You are either with the die-hards or the careless. There is no in-between in the last two rows. I have fond memories of the second to last row in Rich Stadium, because that’s where my seat was when I saw the 49ers-Bills game (including the one and only Steve Young of course) back in 1998. You know you’re dedicated when you are in the last two rows of any game--in particular football games--because you so want to see this game that you are willing to have that poor of a view.

Why is Budweiser served at hockey arenas? If I ruled the world, all beer in hockey arenas would either be Labatt Blue or Molson Canadian (aka the official beers of Hasenauer family functions--only the most Canadian of beers for the most Canadian of accents.)

Am I correct in remarking that college hockey coaches raise heck over calls a thousand times more than NHL or AHL coaches? In my years of watching hockey with my dad back in Lake-Effect-Snow-Land, I do not remember John Tortorella flinging his arms about regarding a call like the wild-wacky-inflatable-arm-waving-tube-man. Yet college coaches argue every call so spastically and physically that it’s a wonder one hasn’t flipped over the board while doing so yet.

Speaking of Lake-Effect-Snow-Land, here is an off-topic comment: yes, 100 inches of snow is a ton of snow. However, trust me when I say that the people of Oswego, Fair Haven, Sterling and Red Creek, NY know how to deal with it (I would know--I spent summers with my grandparents and aunt in Fair Haven during my childhood.) And really, there are people in those towns who aren’t even batting an eye at this amount. It’s Lake Effect--it’s unpredictable, it’s crazy, and it lasts from October till April. Gotta love it!

If I were BC Athletics, I’d tweak the maroon in their uniforms and other apparel. It’s not consistent and, in its worst form, it resembles a muddy brown. That gold is nice, and is much too vivid to pair up with a maroon with too much brown in it.

Last but not least, I would like to wholeheartedly thank the management of the TD BankNorth Garden for having the foresight to include two Dunkin Donuts in their arena. The championship game didn’t start until 8:15pm, had TV timeouts, and went into overtime. The only thing keeping me going at the end was coffee (or coffee-flavored cream, as I tend to make it.)

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to listen to the news reporters go crazy over 3 inches of snow. Now, when I was a girl, I walked back from school in valleys created from 3 1/2 feet of snow being plowed. Freaking out about 3 inches and some freezing rain will always seem like overkill to me.

The Departure Factor, and Why I Like and Don’t Like Dan Shaughnessy

When I ran indoor track (we’re talking way back in the day--1996 to be exact,) I preferred meets at New York Chiropractic College over those at the University of Rochester (U of R). It wasn’t that U of R had sub-par facilities--they had adequate facilities, if not a little on the older side, but still a whole lot better than running in the hallways of my high school, which is what we had to do for practice--but it was that U of R was right around the corner. From school, it was turn right, go straight for a little bit, another right, straight for a bit again, and bam--you were on campus. In fact, my high school was the original campus for the university--that’s how close by we were.

Those weekends that we had to go out to New York Chiropractic, which is located in Seneca Falls, were quite involved. We would report at school early, pack up in the school bus, and travel for about an hour to get there. We would listen to the radio, eat bagels, do homework together, talk about boys we liked…and when the meet was over, we would trudge from the field house through the freshly fallen lake effect snow to the parking lot, pack in the bus, wait till the bus warmed up enough, and then travel back home, exhausted. Not as talkative on the way back, we would either fall asleep or, my personal choice, look out the frostbitten window.

It wasn’t just that the trip out to Seneca Falls was more fun for 14-year-old me, but I ran (or in some cases, walked--one of my events was the racewalk) better at those meets. In all reality, that’s not saying much--it meant I finished third to last instead of last-- but I was in an entirely different mindset. I wasn’t thinking of schoolwork, I wasn’t thinking about my family, I wasn’t thinking about Rochester--I was only thinking about my team and running (or walking.)

The reason I reminisce above is that the more I follow sports, especially college sports, the more I think that some athletes and teams are effected by what I’m calling “The Departure Factor.” The team or athlete performs better at an away venue than a home venue. This isn’t limited to teams that compete on fields and arenas, but also individual athletes like figure skaters. The actual traveling to the game, meet or championship is a cathartic experience--that time spent traveling releases the athlete of any outside issues and gets the athlete in the zone. Alternatively, when the team or athlete plays at a home venue, they have no travel time--they step onto the field right from their everyday lives. Every issue that they are dealing with in their non-athletic life comes with them onto the field--no matter how insignificant--because there has been no detachment from the two lives.

“The Departure Factor” is not to be used as an excuse--there exist thousands of sports psychologists to prepare athletes at all levels to “get in the zone”--but I think, especially for younger athletes, it is a legitimate reasoning for poor or unfocused performance. The best athletes and teams will always be those who can focus on the task at hand without letting anything distract them for the amount of time their program, match or game lasts. In fact, I think the absolute best athletes (or even anyone in any given field) are those who can focus as such and never lose their enjoyment for that intensive submersion in the given activity.

*****
Speaking of a person who may have lost that enjoyment for what they do…there is a sportswriter in Boston who elicits intense hatred and a high level of respect concurrently. That writer is Dan Shaughnessy. He is so hated that multiple websites exist whose sole purpose is to loathe him, but so respected that all media types and middle-of-the-road fans defer to his vast knowledge. I knew of him even as a teenager in Lake Effect Snow Land, but did not have a definitive opinion on the guy--I didn’t know enough of his work. However, even now as someone who reads a majority of his columns in the Boston Globe and who has lived in this sports town for nearly three years, I can’t bring myself to despise him. He may be grossly incorrect at times, he may have some very strong biases (which, as a columnist, is permitable,) but I do believe his honors and respect are deserved.

I think the problem with Shaughnessy is that he stopped enjoying being passionate about his profession a while back. Pure speculation, mind you, but I have reasons that I say what I do. For one, I met him last year while taking a class at the College of Communications. He came to visit a sports media course I was taking along with Kevin Paul Dupont, the Globe’s lead hockey writer. While Dupont’s interest, enthusiasm and gratefulness for his profession was glaringly obvious, Shaughnessy seemed to question what he has gotten caught up in. I almost wanted to ask him if he could go back to being a beat reporter, would he? He was courteous and answered everyone’s questions, and a part of his preoccupation may have been because he was about to break the Theo-is-coming-back story later that evening, but he seemed to miss the travel of being a beat reporter and the anonymity that it provided.

Secondly, his columns seem to be mailed in. Take his column regarding the first round of the Beanpot -- it was so uninvolved it was almost offensive. He was intentionally using repetition as a means to show that the Beanpot is always the same in that Boston University always makes it to the finals, but he could have used it a lot better than using the example of a number of players coming from St. Sebastian’s. In fact, he was flippant to the importance of the tournament, which is a premier sports event on the Boston sports scene (since it takes place in the dark ages of the sports calendar--after the Super Bowl but before spring training and March Madness.) But Shaughnessy is, at his core, a baseball beat writer. I don’t think, if left completely to his own devices, he would ever write about hockey. He is passionate about baseball, and I think that’s why any football, hockey or basketball articles he writes come across as incomplete, inaccurate, or in the case of the Beanpot article, flippant. When he writes about baseball, his columns are longer, his descriptions more vivid, and he breaks news. It may be that his editor needs not to pressure him to write columns regarding sports he is not interested or qualified to.

In the end, I think it may boil down to the following: Boston sports fans, with their incorrect belief that they are more intelligent than any other American sports fans, are overly critical. They tear down, build up, and devour athletes, managers, coaches, front offices, and their journalists like a five-year-old who just traded in Duplos for Legos. When I first moved here, I thought it was over exaggerated how thick-skinned those in Boston sports had to be in order not to lose their minds. Unfortunately, it’s not. And I think Dan Shaughnessy, once he became successful and prolific, began to be consistently torn down by Boston sports fan. Twenty years of criticism later, he has finally become jaded. And, all things considered, who could blame him?