Come to think of it, the idea of sports as a common cultural bond makes a lot of sense.
Even if he is a Boston fan, ESPN columnist Bill Simmons always seems to write entertaining material. From critiquing wide receivers' hair to wondering why the Red Sox spent an exorbitant sum on lost-cause pitcher Byung-Hyun Kim, Simmons has built a considerable fan base nationwide. Recently, he did something that was a little surprising by interviewing author Chuck Klosterman on a myriad of topics. One of Klosterman's thoughts jumped out at me as I read the lengthy transcript, and it was the following:
There is a shared knowledge of sports in America that is unlike our shared knowledge of anything else. Whenever I have to hang out with someone I've never met before, I always find myself secretly thinking, "I hope this dude knows about sports. I hope this dude knows about sports. I hope this dude knows about sports." Because if he does, I know the rest of the conversation will be easy.
Not a week later, I went to watch jazz keyboardist Brian Culbertson in Newport Beach. Earlier in the day, New York had experienced a crippling sixth inning against Boston, in which Jason Giambi made a critical error to spot the Red Sox two runs, and the men in pinstripes succumbed 5-3. This immediately made me curious about the outcome of Cleveland's game, as the Indians were challenging both Eastern clubs for the Wild Card. After Ron Belliard tied it in the ninth, I listened intently on my satellite radio as I made the drive to the concert. During the show's intermission, I found out in the adjacent hotel bar that the White Sox had triumphed in 13 innings, prompting me to jump several feet in the air. When a man in the room spotted my Yankee cap, he moaned about their most recent loss in Fenway. My cheery answer was "Well, at least the Indians lost" as I instinctively gave him a thumbs up. That seemed to brighten his spirits a little, because he replied emphatically: "That's good!". As I strode back to my seat on the lawn, I couldn't help but smile at the fact that I had just had an conversation, however brief, with a total stranger in an unfamiliar place--about sports.
As always, I can't help but love my teams.
I recently affirmed that my professional allegiances are still strong. When I opened ESPN The Magazine's hockey preview, I literally cheered when I saw the New York Rangers were ranked last in their division. In the last half decade, and even in many of the years since their 1994 Stanley Cup Title, the Blueshirts have been a walking joke. The franchise had a payroll comparable to the Yankees and Knicks relative to each sport, yet missed the playoffs every year since 1997. It's a wonder I missed hockey when the lockout was announced before the 2004-05 campaign was to begin. But there's something about being a Ranger fan in this age that is oddly compelling: yes, our team is awful, but we won't go away. Several years ago, my beloved squad scored a goal in overtime to win a game, and I let out a burst of joy. I'm normally polite enough with my parents, but when my dad admonished me that someone was on the phone, all that came out of my mouth was "I don't give a damn!" I remember attending road games in San Jose, listening to dozens of matchups on NHL.com, and watching many more on national television in 2003-04, even as the Canadiens and Devils of the world poured puck after puck into the Ranger net. An e-mail written to the mailbag of John Buccigross reminded me of this defiant attitude:
"Essentially, from a Ranger fan's perspective, it's like you're making fun of a short fat kid for being short and fat due to genetics. See, even though this child was born into this unfortunate situation and there is nothing he can do about this unfortunate situation, he still has to deal with and deal with others making fun of him."
After Sunday's game and the latest news on their quarterback, maybe you can add Jets fans to the list.
sports
Even if he is a Boston fan, ESPN columnist Bill Simmons always seems to write entertaining material. From critiquing wide receivers' hair to wondering why the Red Sox spent an exorbitant sum on lost-cause pitcher Byung-Hyun Kim, Simmons has built a considerable fan base nationwide. Recently, he did something that was a little surprising by interviewing author Chuck Klosterman on a myriad of topics. One of Klosterman's thoughts jumped out at me as I read the lengthy transcript, and it was the following:
There is a shared knowledge of sports in America that is unlike our shared knowledge of anything else. Whenever I have to hang out with someone I've never met before, I always find myself secretly thinking, "I hope this dude knows about sports. I hope this dude knows about sports. I hope this dude knows about sports." Because if he does, I know the rest of the conversation will be easy.
Not a week later, I went to watch jazz keyboardist Brian Culbertson in Newport Beach. Earlier in the day, New York had experienced a crippling sixth inning against Boston, in which Jason Giambi made a critical error to spot the Red Sox two runs, and the men in pinstripes succumbed 5-3. This immediately made me curious about the outcome of Cleveland's game, as the Indians were challenging both Eastern clubs for the Wild Card. After Ron Belliard tied it in the ninth, I listened intently on my satellite radio as I made the drive to the concert. During the show's intermission, I found out in the adjacent hotel bar that the White Sox had triumphed in 13 innings, prompting me to jump several feet in the air. When a man in the room spotted my Yankee cap, he moaned about their most recent loss in Fenway. My cheery answer was "Well, at least the Indians lost" as I instinctively gave him a thumbs up. That seemed to brighten his spirits a little, because he replied emphatically: "That's good!". As I strode back to my seat on the lawn, I couldn't help but smile at the fact that I had just had an conversation, however brief, with a total stranger in an unfamiliar place--about sports.
As always, I can't help but love my teams.
I recently affirmed that my professional allegiances are still strong. When I opened ESPN The Magazine's hockey preview, I literally cheered when I saw the New York Rangers were ranked last in their division. In the last half decade, and even in many of the years since their 1994 Stanley Cup Title, the Blueshirts have been a walking joke. The franchise had a payroll comparable to the Yankees and Knicks relative to each sport, yet missed the playoffs every year since 1997. It's a wonder I missed hockey when the lockout was announced before the 2004-05 campaign was to begin. But there's something about being a Ranger fan in this age that is oddly compelling: yes, our team is awful, but we won't go away. Several years ago, my beloved squad scored a goal in overtime to win a game, and I let out a burst of joy. I'm normally polite enough with my parents, but when my dad admonished me that someone was on the phone, all that came out of my mouth was "I don't give a damn!" I remember attending road games in San Jose, listening to dozens of matchups on NHL.com, and watching many more on national television in 2003-04, even as the Canadiens and Devils of the world poured puck after puck into the Ranger net. An e-mail written to the mailbag of John Buccigross reminded me of this defiant attitude:
"Essentially, from a Ranger fan's perspective, it's like you're making fun of a short fat kid for being short and fat due to genetics. See, even though this child was born into this unfortunate situation and there is nothing he can do about this unfortunate situation, he still has to deal with and deal with others making fun of him."
After Sunday's game and the latest news on their quarterback, maybe you can add Jets fans to the list.
sports
posted by Alex at 6:03 PM
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