Things are definitely getting better at Casa Schrader. I know I’ve been kind of a dick these past weeks. I mean, I’ve also been recovering from gunshot wounds that have left me partially paralyzed, so give a guy a break. That said, things are better. Not giant candy room in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory better, but… better. I’m making a little progress on this case. I’m thinking about getting out of the house more and more. Maybe go to a movie, catch a game sometime. You know, normal shit like that. I’m sure my wife would appreciate it. Not the going-to-a-game thing maybe, but that’s because she lacks a certain amount of culture, God love her.
I love many sports, but we usually end up seeing baseball games. We’ve got the Isotopes here in Albuquerque, so it’s easy to catch a few games during the season. Now, I get enthusiastic about games. I cheer — loudly. What’s the point of just sitting, quietly thinking, “why yes, I do so enjoy watching this team play — good hit, my friend” without enthusiastically letting the players and those around you know? And, of course, I’ve been known to talk some trash… on occasion. I’ve spent years honing my skills, and I’m proud of the work I do. Getting into the game, having fun with your fellow spectators — why, it’s all a part of the rich tapestry of life.
Anyway, despite my enthusiasm for a certain measure of liveliness at games, there are some true assmonkeys out there just hell bent on ruining your relaxing day out with the family. You’ve got that cracked-out fan who skipped his Ritalin dose and now won’t shut the hell up for even a second. It’s “let’s go, Isotopes, let’s go” in a piercing voice for nine straight innings. Usually this guy spends the entire game standing up, blocking your view. This drives me completely batshit. I will stand for actual tense moments in the game. I will stand for great Rudy-esque acts of heart and never giving up. I will stand for a glimpse of some numbnuts fighting it out in the cheap seats. But usually, I would prefer to sit and drink my beer and eat my nachos in the comfort of my tiny, rock-hard chair. But no… Douchey McGee here’s gotta show just how much he cares about this completely superfluous game his team is playing.
Team spirit is great. It’s effing awesome. But I also value my hearing. And sanity. Besides, it’s not like we’re at the world series here, guy. Save your voice for something that matters. Like your kid’s little league game. Because you know that guy’s the one parent coaches hate… the one who assaults the umpire over one (completely legit) call against little Johnny, thereby dooming the kid to a life of humiliation every time someone pulls that shit up on YouTube.
Of course, there’re also those people who don’t show enough attention or enthusiasm. It seems basic, but some people are truly remedial and must be reminded — you should watch the game if you’re there. It’s disrespectful to the players and those around you to blow off the action and spend the whole game yacking on your pink bedazzled cell phone to your sister-in-law about the latest episode of Real Housewives of East Jesus Wyoming. And I get that it’s baseball, so “action” may seem like too strong a word for some of you, but really… you bought the ticket. That’s just being wasteful.
Of course, my all time favorite dicky fans are the ones who spend the whole game coaching from their seat. You know those guys. They think that they could coach way better than the trained professional who has spent years honing his craft. No, no, no… this random fan knows far more than the team’s strategists or the players themselves. This guy should be calling the shots! His hindsight is 20-20! See how helpful he is when he graciously points out that maybe attempting to steal second was a tad rash. Thank you, Professor, for clearing that shit up for us. Clearly the ‘Topes ought to hire you immediately!
So thank you dickhead fans for brightening all our days with your shrill non-stop whistling, delightful pop culture commentary, and smug coaching from the stands. You’re truly contributing something. The funniest part to me though is that the Isotopes are a minor league team. So… while the games are fun and you get to check out the prospects, it’s not like we’re deciding the outcome of the course of major sports history here. The most you’re gonna get is bragging rights of “yeah, I saw that guy play in the minors back in the day.” Which is about as meaningful as those hipster douchebag weenies whining about how they knew that one band before they got famous. Yeah, yeah emo kid… your parents must be so proud.