The Wisdom of Fandom

"Thank you for coming . . . the visiting room is ahead, and to the right . . . please be sure to sign the guest book . . . "

The undertakers rolled into every living-TV-Rumpus-dorm-bed-den-barroom in New England last night around 11:00 PM EST -- just after Eli Manning and the NY Giants committed regicide on the presumed-kings of the NFL, our New England Patriots -- and welcomed us to the funeral parlor. The Giants dispatched the men from Foxboro brutally, ruthlessly and with the utmost professionalism -- qualities we'd come to expect from our own team of football-Gods. It wasn't personal, except that it was, and always is, when you make your living imposing your will on other men. When it was over, we were all reminded how personal and painful fandom can be.

I've been around sports and Boston Sports (capitalization is intentional) for a long time. We've long supported teams that were whipping boys and also-rans. Historically, Boston Fans are die hard, stubborn, bitter-enders who pray to St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost causes. The past seven years have been the Golden Age of Boston Sports -- the Celtics 80s notwithstanding. Super Bowl XLII was meant to be the crown jewel amongst a ridiculous trove of treasure: 3 of 7 Super Bowls, 2 of 4 World Series, the best record in the NBA, a highly ranked D-1 college football team, a pro hockey team that's currently playoff eligible, and as I write this, BC and BU just tore it up in an OT of the second game of the opening night of the Beanpot -- one of the best college tourneys of any kind.

Super Bowl XLII, however, showed how fragile the line between pleasure and pain, success and failure is, and how emotionally devastating fandom can be. I go about my day-to-day, and try and not get overly fired up about sports, though I do like them, I follow them, I derive pleasure from them. I loved this Patriots team -- not in the latently homosexual way that so many "dudes" around here "love" Tom Brady. It was a distinct honor to watch them play, and go along for the ride. Yet, as a friend wrote on his blog "Why do I get so emotionally invested in something that is out of my control?" I wish I knew because Super Bowl Monday was a drag. There is no energy in the area, everybody is down and I've heard more than once that people were up all night; that they thought that what they'd seen was a bad dream. No such luck. It was all too real, and now many of us are questioning why we are fans; is the sort of pain we feel in the wake of a loss like that in XLII worth it in the long run?

Dreams of 19-0 ended "oh . . . no . . . " as Plaxico Burress hauled in the winning TD with 35 seconds to go. Perfection was thwarted. A tremendous, record setting ride has been written off as meaningless. That seems a bit harsh to me, and not entirely fair but never forget the aforementioned, razor thin line between pleasure and pain, success and failure. A miserable 2:24 at the end of XLII, wiped out the previous 18 hours 57 minutes and 36 seconds of superiority, and now the Patriots are judged failures and now their fans, me included, suffer an existential crisis, as we contemplate the wisdom of fandom. I've long said though, that regardless of the team, win or lose, I've got to get up and go to work, pay my mortgage and feed and care for my children. Today was no exception, and, looking ahead, pitchers and catchers report to Ft. Meyers in 9 days, and Patriots mini-camp is only about 6 months away . . .

"Hi, my name's Agricola."
"HI, AGRICOOLA!"
"I'm a fan . . . "

Red Sox Win It All Again!

Sunday night the Red Sox clinched their second World Series Championship in four seasons. This represents a really interesting change for long-time Sox fans. This team, we were told was never going to win the championship, they were cursed, chokers, losers, perpetually in the shadow of the New York Yankees . . .

Now they've won it all for the second time in four seasons and the reality of this event still leaves me slightly befuddled. The win in 2004 was jubilant; a euphoric and completely improbable expiation of 86 years of misery. Finally, the organization and the city had dropped its negative mantle.

This year's victory has a different ring to it, is more mellow than the 2004 win but is as every bit as gratifying as the first. This year's win validates the '04 win and makes it seem not so improbable -- both teams rallied from deep holes in the ALCS and demonstrated that this organization is one of heart and grit. Despite the fact that the payroll of this team is $143 million per annum, these players are fierce competitors who actually subscribe to an old fashioned notion of teamwork. The ownership is dedicated to winning. The front office is definitely following a plan. The manager is proving to be a fine skipper who understands the modern athlete. Each of the factors combine to produce another championship team.

As a long-time fan I never expected to witness one World Series Championship in my life and now I've witnessed two in four years. I keep telling Child One that the Sox have won as many championships in her life as they have in mine and that's pretty amazing. In 1986 when that grounder got through Buckner's legs my father stormed out of the family room, said some naughty things and then looked at me and said:

They did it to my grandfather. They did it to my father. They've done it to me, and they'll do it to you too!

They had broken generations of hearts and everybody expected that to continue in perpetuity. No more. The Sox are champions again, it's amazing and something I'm still getting used to.

756*

Barrels of ink are being spilled on this, and have been spilled ever since it became apparent that Barry Bonds would break Hank Aaron's Home Run Record. I don't have much to contribute to it except to state my uninterest in the achievement of Bonds. He played longer than Aaron; he used performance enhancers; he is a miserable human being.

Hank Aaron still holds the record in my book, even after his classy, videotaped concession speech. Will Bonds be as classy when A-Rod breaks his record in six or seven years? Bonds is a truly, and supremely gifted ball player. His involvement in the madness of steroids basically destroyed his name and forever cast a shadow over his accomplishments and the game. The real tragedy of the 756, however, is not that the record was broken -- records are meant to fall. The real tragedy is that one of the truly great records in all of sports was broken in a way that doesn't jibe with most people's notions of fair play. As a result, something that should be celebrated has bred further cynicism in the public. We're all a little worse off today, now that Hank Aaron is number two on the all time home run list than we were on 7 August, 2007 at 8:50 PM PDT.

A Gem

Wakefield v Texas

Athlete-Media-Relations 2.0

Regardless of where you stand on Curt Schilling, he is a unique talent both on and off the field. While he rubs many the wrong way -- esp. The Boston Globe's curmudgeonly Dan Shaughnessy -- as a self-promoter, he is redefining the way athletes relate to the media and the fans.

We happen to think Schilling is terrific and we look forward to his weekly chats with Dennis and Callahan -- the morning drive guys on Boston's sports-radio-giant WEEI. He always sheds great light on the game, and provides terrific insight into how it's played at the highest level -- at least in his POV.

Schilling has long been an active participant on the Boston Dirt Dogs and Sons of Sam Horn bulletin boards. He's also known around these parts to sports radio listeners as "Curt in the Car." This spring Schilling launched his own blog, 38 Pitches. It must be a nightmare for team-management to have a guy as savvy, intelligent and opinionated as Schilling out and about, opining and talking about whatever he wants.
This is a perfect example of the issue of how brand owners are losing control of their brand. Ownership, understandably, wants to control, what their employees say, but they have to be even-handed and judicious in how hard, and when or if, they come down on a player such as Schilling. We think that ownership understands that they would surely lose in any war of words with Schilling. This new foray into the blogoshpere is certainly forcing them to walk a razor thin line.

For now, ownership of the Sox is showing forbearance and continuing to permit Schilling to be visible and opinionated. It will be interesting to see how long they permit this, especially as the season progresses and Schilling draws nearer to free agency. Like the Sox, Schilling also has a brand to maintain and he does so by being open and pushing his message across multiple channels. There have been athlete blogs in the past -- ESPN has contracted with marginal players to chronicle a season -- but this is about as high-a-profile a player as we know of to go the route of the personal blog.

We'd love to hear and see more players go this route as well. It will radically change the relationship between player and fans as well as player and major media outlets. Part of this, no doubt, lies at the root of the issues between Shaughnessy and Schilling. In Shaughnessy's world, the player is supposed to sit there, give good quotes to the grizzled, old-media pro and allow the latter to control the message. Alas, the days of the gate-keeping, myth-making, and mythical reporter as major arbiter of player access are numbered.

Welcome to Athlete-Media-Relations 2.0. People like Schilling are helping to change the field of play (so to speak). The ballpark scribes now need to compete with the athletes themselves for the scoop. As long as this foray into the brave-new-world of DIY news production, brand management and self promotion doesn't distract too much from on-field performance -- Schilling got lit up on Opening Day by Kansas City -- we are all for it and look forward to the evolution.

Removing the Monkey

As die hard citizens of Patriot Nation this is a mildly bitter Monday for us. Peyton Manning finally got the monkey off of his back and won The Big One. We watched very little of it -- some of the first half, a bit of the third quarter and the final 1:19 of the fourth. The game held little interest for us.

What was fascinating however was the post-game celebration. It may have been the rain, or it may have been utter exhaustion at finally having lived up to expectations, but the Colts were very subdued. No Colt, however, was more subdued than Manning. There was very little emotion, never mind jubilation, on his face at finally having stuffed his critics. No matter what else we may think of him, he will now, always, be a Super Bowl Winning quarterback.

He appeared nearly uninterested. Maybe he was overwhelmed by the whole thing, but it all seemed quite stilted and unnatural -- as if he were not really there in the moment. Perhaps one of the most illuminating things about the post-game ceremony was Manning's interaction with Bob Saunders -- the Colts' terrific safety. They hugged each other on the podium as if meeting for the first time. It was weird.

One of the most hilarious parts of the post-game celebration happened when CBS's Jim Nantz flubbed the pass-off of the Vince Lombardi trophy. Rather than passing it to Sanders as he was supposed to do, he had Manning pass the trophy to the team with these words: "I'm sure you can't wait to share this with your team." Perhaps he was being ironic, but we doubt it, this is Jim Nantz after all. Does he know nothing of Manning? Has he not been able, all of these years, to see through his man-crush and see that Manning hates his teammates?

We think that this is the reason for Manning's recalcitrance. The Colts' victory in SB XLI was a total team effort. Manning proved again and again that he couldn't win the big one alone as had been prophesied his whole life, and as he had come to believe. He needed his teammates to play brilliantly as well in order to win. As a result, his self image was shattered during this year's playoff run. While a terrific QB, he couldn't do it alone despite what his dad, his pre-pro-coaches, his agent and all the fawning sportswriters in the US had been telling him for his entire career. He won, but he did it as a a teammate and that, for Manning probably removed much of his joy at finally the removing the monkey from his back.

A Really Great Article

Over on ESPN.com, in his weekly column, John Buccigross has a really nice exchange with a member of the 10th Mountain Division, currently based at Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan.

We are hockey fans on the Quarter Acre. We are fans and supporters of the US Military (though we never served, we have the greatest respect and admiration of the men and women of our military who serve in harm's way). We are a fan of John Buccigross. His passion for the game of hockey is unbridled, but not more so than his passion for people. He is a true voice of the fan, a.k.a the ordinary guy. He writes sentimentally, openly, unapologetically, and un-cynically, as a fan, for the fans. For that we thank him. "Bucci" is always worth a read, but the aforementioned lead-in makes this week's installment one not to be missed.

Fantasists

During its heyday in the late-70s to the mid-80s we toyed with playing Dungeons and Dragons -- the seminal role playing game with the crazy set of 6, 8, and 20 sided dice -- but honestly could not get into it. It was too much work, too cerebral and way too steeped in competitive seriousness with levels of skill etc. If you came late to the game you couldn't just play with your buddies who "knew" how. The owners and their "Characters" had too much "experience" to willingly play with a novice who would undoubtedly slow down game play and make the game un-fun.

So, now, rather than drawing mazes, and building characters via dice rolls, and some predetermined allotment of gold coins, men -- many of whom no doubt played D&D as boys -- now "draft" "teams" of professional athletes and play fantasy (fill in the blank). We know that there are many massively-multiplayer-games on the web that more closely mirror the old paper/pencil/dice-D&D experience but we don't play those for the same basic reasons that we never got into D&D. That said, fantasy (fill in the blank) players (aka: "team owners") are as geeky, dorky and obsessive as any of the most hardcore, 15th level warrior-owning D&D dice-rollers ever were. In our second year of Fantasy Football (FF), we feel much as we did as a 13 year old D&D aspirant -- frustrated, uninterested and basically fed up with the whole inane process.

By nature, we are competitive, and losing is not a fun experience even in relation to something as irrelevant as FF. FF is aggravating and there is enough aggravation in life without willingly submitting to an aggravating "game." Games, by their nature, are supposed to be fun. However, given the unpredictability of "any given Sunday" in the NFL, FF becomes a game of chance and we hate games of chance. So, just as we did 20-odd-years ago with the D&D craze, we'll remove ourselves from the Fantasy universe and leave it to the true fantasists and obsessives. Anybody for Monopoly?