I have not been writing much. That and my discovery that an old post I put on McCovey Chronicles a few years back is no longer available has made me put an old copy of this up here, just to keep adrift.
On the personal front, the changes are getting rather insane, which goes toward my being unable to write much. I hope to get an update of sorts written at some point. Anyway, here is some baseball fanology.
* * * * *
The following is a lighthearted attempt to describe different
types of baseball fans as if they could be categorized into Jungian
Archetypes. Baseball fans vary. All are unique, like snowflakes, or
those weird cross breed dogs where they staple Poodle DNA to a "real"
breed hoping for a "real" breed that doesn't shed - like the aussiepoo.
Let's stuff everyone into little boxes anyways.
[To the Poodle
owners I have irritated by suggesting their dogs are not of a "real"
breed, relax. I'm going piss off everyone by the end of this post.]
Any similarity to persons living or dead is no accident at all.
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The Fair Weather Fan
An individual of little to no moral value, the Fair
Weather Fan (hereafter, the FWF), is the single most common obstacle
towards the enjoyment of baseball. They aspire to associate themselves
with winners in a desperate attempt to avoid their own shortcomings. The
seek only euphoria and expect instant gratification. Most care only for
home runs. Pitching and defense is thought of as time to use the
restroom, visit concessions, or make phone calls.
The FWF can often be located when sitting in lower box
seats, usually attempting to wave to friends while talking on a cell
phone in the background of the televised side view of a players' at bat.
The FWF changes "allegiances" for teams depending on the
latest win streaks. Their closets contain gear from multiple teams.
When asked how long they have followed their current team of choice, a FWF will
always provide the defensible qualification "as long as I can
remember" before providing a tenuously suspect justification.
Common justifications include: born in [city of team], born near [city of
team], lived in [city of team], lived near [city of team], visited and liked
[city of team], once drove through [city of team], has a relative who was born
in, born near, lived in, lived near, visited and liked, or drove through
[city of team], and of course, likes the team colors.
Famous Fair Weather Fans: Carrot
Top, Gary Radnich, Meg Witman, Sylvester the Cat, Zsa Zsa Gabor.
The Weather Vane Fan
A common fan type. The Weather Vane Fan (hereafter, the WVF)
who's opinions are swayed by the recent events of their team. The
amount their opinions sway varies from WVF to WVF, as does the significance of
the events which can cause the sway. The extreme WVFs are borderline schizophrenics,
going from complete confidence to utter depression with each pitch. Most
find their opinions subliminally affected by the last win, loss, or
streak. Other WVFs find their attitudes alter over longer periods,
usually defined by eras appropriately labeled according to the positive or
negative vibes the WVF has with a given individual (the Sabean era, the Bochy
era, the Posey era, etc.)
To some extent, 92.7% of all fans fall within this archetype.
The Optimist
Not the rarest of fans, but you have a better chance of of being
struck by lightning than being a true optimist, unless you are also a Yankee
fan. [Money can't by love, but can buy optimism by the
barrel.] Still, the haves and have nots of mlb, on the heels of the
steroids era, have the true optimist close to being recognized
federally as an endangered species.
Technically, there is no time requirement towards fan
categorization, so there are always plenty of optimists among the newer
baseball fans. This number drops dramatically with every
year of being a fan, however, until year 7. After following baseball
for seven years, anyone who can still be optimistic regardless of their team's
roster is going to be an optimist for life.
If one approaches the characteristics of optimism rationally,
there can only be one conclusion. The optimist is ignorant. There
can be no other explanation for his bliss-like naiveté.
Famous Optimists: Brittany
Spears, Felipe Alou, George W. Bush, Mychael Urban, Peter McGowan.
The
Doomsayer
It used to be difficult to find a Doomsayer. People
who actually epitomized all that is pessimistic did not speak up as often as
they would have liked for fear of losing their few friends. Then, Al Gore
invented the internet. The Doomsayer had soap box to scream from
while protected in the shadow of anonymity. Countless quiet,
seemingly polite individuals would come home from their work day, sit at the
computer, and morph into a virtual Golem.
Nothing short of a 10-0 perfect game can satisfy the Doomsayer,
and even then, he will complain about the terrible announcers that ruined the
televised event. The Doomsayer is compelled to correct everyone, but only
if it pushes an opinion further towards the negative. Logic need not
enter any equation, nor consistency. All that matters to the Doomsayer is
that the status quo is unacceptable, and this point is repeated ad nausium in
every conceivable angle the Doomsayer can articulate.
Ironically, the never satisfied Doomsayer is quite often the only
fan of a non-championship team to be content at the end of a season. They
rest comfortably under the not often logical conclusion that their team did not
win the World Series because they were right. The manager should have
called the plays the doomsayer pointed out after the fact. The GM should
have made the trades he suggested (like Randy Winn for Albert Pujols) if the
organization was serious about winning.
In the event his team actually wins the World Series, the
Doomsayer conveniently changes tunes, becoming a Fair Weather Fan in the
process, further lowering their value to a society.
Famous Doomsayers: Glenn Beck, John, Nostradamus,
and Tim Kawakami.
The Math Guy
The only thing separating the Math Guy (hereafter, the MG) from
your average computer geek math genius is that the MG actually likes
sports. Some even play.
The MG knows far to much about statistics. In their mind,
baseball is a complicated version of blackjack, where the discovery of new data
to incorporate into a statistical analysis is tantamount to card
counting. The MG really should be counting cards at a blackjack table instead,
but they are usually gifted enough at computers or some other such nerdy
enterprise as to not need to worry about money. An MG is most comfortable
talking to other MGs who understand their Saber metric terms. They
often consider non-MGs to be "missing the point," or, "not even
watching the same game."
The MG, however, rarely delves into non-numerical aspects of a
team. Club house chemistry is a concept they know exists, but do not
really understand. This is why the MG is always a male. Women, even
mathematically gifted women, have emotional depth sufficient to understand
the complexities and the necessity of interpersonal relationships.
The MG rarely has a girlfriend, though they are married for their
money.
Famous Math Guys: Theo Epstein.
Those guys at Fangraphs.
The Know-It-All
While the Know-It-All is more of adjective to add on to a classic
fan archetype (like the "Know-It-All Weather Vane Fan" or the
"Know-It-All Doomsayer"), they are worthy of their own archetypal
classifications nonetheless, especially as they are experienced in greater
numbers and far greater frequency the longer one remains on-line. They
must, however, be broken down into sub-categories.
A. The True Know-It-All (aka The
Know-It-All)
The rarest of all fans. The Know-It-All (hereafter, the KIA)
is to be both honored and pitied. The KIA lives baseball. The KIA
spends nearly all waking moments thinking about baseball, reading articles,
studying scouting reports, and analyzing statistics. The knowledge within
their mind is incalculable. They rarely offer their opinion without
clearly stating so. That which is fact, they know as fact, and they
keep it separate from any statements of opinion which could be susceptible
to error. The KIA must be honored given their rarity and the amount of
accurate information they can impart during a discussion. However, they
must also be pitied for having no life outside of their obsession for
baseball.
The discovery of a KIA is incredibly difficult, especially since
the advent of the internet, which provides an
Almost-But-Not-Quite-A-Know-It-All or even a
clever Nowhere-Near-Know-It-All (both
discussed below) the ability to appear knowledgeable. Absent
personal knowledge or extensive reputational evidence, one should never
label anyone a KIA. To do so would significantly raise the
likelihood of finding one's own self labeled a Nowhere-Near-Know-It-All.
Famous Know-It-Alls: Peter Gammons.
B. The
Almost-But-Not-Quite-A-Know-It-All (aka The Wanabe)
The simplest definition of an Almost-But-Not-Quite-A-Know-It-All
(hereafter, the Wanabe) is an individual who believes he is a KIA.
The Wanabe is completely unaware of the most basic of KIA principles -
"You never know enough." On the contrary, the Wanabe is quite
content with the mistaken presumption that they already know
everything they need to know, and that any unfamiliar situation can be easily
figured out through their omniscience.
Make no mistake, the Wanabe is a knowledgeable individual, just
not nearly as knowledgeable they believe. As one finds with the
Doomsayer, "I told you so," is a common utterance of the
Wannabe. This is because all Doomsayers are Wannabes by definition,
at least until their team actually wins it all and they transform into a Fair
Weather Fan, who, by default, are no longer acknowledged to know anything
whatsoever.
And while every Doomsayer is a Wanabe, the Wanabe can be any type
of fan. Sadly, the internet allows the Wanabe an audience of Optimists
and Fair Weather Fans which he can pontificate to under the delusion of KIA
status, usually creating Wanabe Optimists and Wanabe Fair Weather Fans in the
process. One need only turn on a radio or read a published article to
find the work of such Wanabes, though they are by no means limited to
professional writers.
Just about anyone who expresses an opinion is a Wanabe to some
extent. Those with considerable knowledge yet still susceptible to pride
are Greater Wanabes (GW). Those with limited knowledge are Lesser Wanabes
(LW). The more one learns about baseball, the more individuals you
believed to be Greater Wanabes become Lesser Wanabes with every new bit of
knowledge you attain.
Famous
Almost-But-Not-Quite-A-Know-It-Alls: Buster Olney (GW)
and Bob Costas (LW).
C. The Nowhere-Near-Know-It-All (aka
The Idiot)
The Idiot, or Nowhere-Near-Know-It-All, is identical to the Wanabe
in their mistaken self assessment, only their actual baseball knowledge is so
low as to be undeserving of Lesser Wanabe categorization. This is no
small distinction. The acceptable amount of knowledge for a
Lesser Wanabe classification is quite minimal, knowing a mere 40% or one's
favorite team's roster is usually sufficient. Outright stupidity spoken
with arrogance is required to be an Idiot. For
example, an Idiot may confidently proclaim the mistaken
belief that the rules of school yard kickball, like do-overs or asking the
pitcher for baby-bouncies, apply to mlb.
In person, these individuals can often be identified before uttering
a single word, by scent, having likely soiled themselves by 10 O'clock in the
morning. Occasionally, they manage to masquerade as Lesser Wanabes, if
only momentarily, by cutting and pasting other people's opinions on the
internet or by the reading of prepared statements from behind a podium or on
the radio. Never fear. Their true selves always surface.
There is really no excuse for them. There is no
legitimate justification for their continued existence. Yet,
they always manage to find themselves in positions of power or substantial
influence. Murphy's Law.
Famous Nowhere-Near-Know-It-Alls: Bob
Fitzgerald, Bud Selig, and Joe Buck.
The Dodger Fan
Originally believed by most Cognitive Psychologists to be the
result of a birth defect linked to chromosomal damage from smog
inhalation, the consensus today is that the syndrome is learned rather
than innate. Evidence suggests that the absent minded masses of Los
Angeles turn to the Dodgers after their original entertainment of choice is no
longer available, much as a starving vagrant will root through animal feces
hoping for undigested matter which can still provide sustenance.
Some of the more convincing evidence stems from the significant
rise in the number of Dodger Fans following the cancellation of some of history's
worst television programs. Some of the largest spikes in fan
attendance ever recorded in mlb history for a single team: 1971
Dodgers, following the cancellation of Petticoat Junction, 1981 Dodgers,
following the cancellation of the Three's Company spinoff The Ropers, and most
recently, in 2008, following the cancellation of ABC's Cavemen. Rumors
have it that, currently, both sides of the McCort's divorce proceedings
are stalling in attempts to determine the future boost in team value following
the inevitable failure and cancellation of American Idol.
Little is really known about The Dodger Fan as those who have
attempted to study them invariably go insane or commit suicide. What
little is known has been deduced from the notes of the fallen. For the
safety of the reader, their attributes must not be discussed in any
detail. It should go without saying that Dodger Fans should be avoided at
all costs. Extended exposure to even the youngest of Dodger fans has been
known to cause dizziness, light-headedness, head-ache, stomach ache, nausea,
bulimia, diabetes, bleeding of the eyes and/or ears, skin cancer, tuberculosis,
syphilis, aneurysm, heart attack, rectal leakage, and in some
cases, leprosy. Exposure to a long time Dodger fan is believed
to be the only known cause of spontaneous combustion.
