Start Spreadin’ the News: Red Sox Fans Even Bigger Retards Than Actual Retards

April 3, 2007 at 7:11 pm | Posted in Lowell, Sports, Yankees | 8 Comments

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You could hardly ask for a better Opening Day than what we got yesterday.

Since I don’t have ESPN, I walked to an Irish bar for the Yankee game that started at 1.  The weather’s been bleak here, making me a bit stir crazy.  So I had to get out of the house and see some baseball.  The Stadium looked gorgeous in H-D, and as Jeter’s game-tying single rolled past second base, I finally felt the hope that’s been missing since the sun disappeared in November.  Perhaps I will see the day when the cold browns and grays turn warm, lush, and green.  Perhaps some of these stubborn snow banks will finally melt.  And perhaps we’ll win Number 27 this year.

(And no, there is nothing more lame than using “we” or “us” in reference to one’s favorite sports team.  But exceptions can be made on Opening Day.  It’s special.)

The last few years, I’ve tried to become a more knowledgable and well-rounded baseball fan.  This usually involves reading the Sports Illustrated Baseball Preview cover-to-cover.  But when it’s all said and done, I have neither the mental capacity nor the desire to follow anything beyond the Red Sox and the Yankees.  I’m sure the Brewers have an exciting pitching prospect in Double A, but who cares?  (I only realized this year that the Brewers moved to the National League.)  

I would happily watch the Yankees and Red Sox play 162 games a year.  I’m a sucker for the hype; it never gets old.  And it’s fun rooting for the Yankees here in Red Sox country.  The only other person at the bar during the game was a kid in his early 20’s wearing a green Yankee cap.  I’m inept at making bar conversation, but it seemed like we should be talking since we were both clearly excited by a new season, and we were separated only by two barstools.

We started chatting when the Yankees took the lead, and I realized he was kind of slow.  A super-nice kid, but he had some mental affliction that became evident when he spoke.  I have no idea what you’d call it; “slow” is adequate for the purposes of this conversation.  And very simple.  Refreshingly simple.  If everyone could speak so directly – so concisely – we’d be a far more efficient society.  Through the course of this season, Mike and the Mad Dog will spend hundreds of hours assessing Mariano Rivera’s future with the Yankees.  But this kid only needed nine words to get to the truth.

“The Yankees should resign him. He’s a good pitcher.”

Right on, my Slow Friend.  Right on.  When I told him I was from New Jersey, he replied, “I have a friend in New Jersey. Her name is Lindsey. But I don’t know her last name.”  Then he looked at me like a puppy longing for a treat, as if maybe I knew Lindsey.  I did know a Lindsey LaForte, I said.  She had very large eyebrows.  And my, what a crush I had on her. But that Lindsey moved out-of-state in the sixth grade.  Oh well.

arodcurtain.jpgIn the eighth inning, A-Rod crushed a home run over the center field wall, and my Slow Friend said “Beautiful!”  Indeed it was.  He told me he was happy that “the exposition season” was finally over, and I said that I am too.  But before Rodriguez reached home plate, the bartender abruptly switched the televisions to the Red Sox game, where REO Speedwagon was singing the National Anthem.  (He was kind enough to leave two small TV’s on so we could see Mariano fan the only three batters he faced.  Slow Friend commentary: “The Sandman put them to sleep.”)

Right on cue, two separate groups of Sox fans walked into the bar – six of them in total.  Two Matsusaka jerseys, two Schilling jerseys, a Varitek jersey, and a guy in a sweater.  They were all in their early 20’s, and were eventually joined by a Mike Lowell jersey.  They were total meatheads.

To accommodate their view of the main television, I moved to the seat directly next to my Slow Friend.  So there were four Sox fans on my left, and Slow Friend on my right, followed by three more Sox fans.  I must’ve looked like quite the fairy, packed amidst all that testosterone in my powder blue button-down shirt.

I’m sure there’s thousands of Yankee fans that I would find equally moronic or offensive.  But I don’t live near them, so I can’t be sure.  I live in Red Sox Nation, where the dolts wear red, accentuating their bloated and pale faces.  There was a uniquely Masshole look to these guys.  And a uniquely Masshole attitude.  It was like they’d been listening to sports talk radio all winter, chomping at the bit to unleash their wisdom and wit.  The first pitch of the game was a ball thrown by newly-signed Royals pitcher Gil Meche.

“They paid $55 million for that?!?” “That’s what you get for $55 million?!?” HA HA HA HA HA HA!

Inane, reactionary, and loud commentary followed every pitch.  Every single pitch!  I realize how condescending this sounds, believe me.  And again, I recognize that a significant segment of male sports fans in their early 20’s are unlikable in their own ways.  But it seems like the Sox hysteria of the last five years has cultivated a new breed of retard sports fan.  A sadder, angrier, more obnoxious, stronger strain of sports fan retard, the likes of which rivals only those freaks at Raiders games.

schilling.jpgI was surrounded by these morons, and worse, I’d accidentally gotten drunk.  It was a bit horrifying.  The Sox scored their only run in the first, elating the beasts.  But then Schilling walked in a run in the bottom of the first to tie the game.  To that, my Slow Friend said, “Yes! Beautiful!”, a sentiment that nearly cost him his life.  Matsuzaka shot him a glare and said, “Dude, get the fuck out of here, seriously. What the fuck are you doing in here?”  I couldn’t believe it.  It’s Opening Day, guy!  Lighten up!

Slow Friend just laughed, but I got out of there and missed the following eight innings, which saw the Sox get banged around for seven runs while the $55-million man shut down their offense.  I listened on the radio, and it sounded beautiful.

Hopefully my Slow Friend lived through it.  There’s strength in numbers here behind enemy lines, and we’ve got 161 games to go.  We need that boy on board for the long haul.  His simple voice, singing along to that simple tune on a chilly October night.  Everybody now:

Theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese Little Town Bluuuuues…

(NOTE: The Yankee Stadium photo above has nothing to do with Opening Day, and does little to elevate the argument that Yankee fans are a superior breed. It was taken at a Yanks-Tigers game last year, and I believe it’s the finest shot I’ve ever seen.)

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8 Comments »

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  1. […] From this dude’s blog posting in which he reflects on what it’s like being a Yankee fan in Boston. No […]

  2. Great post man. As a Yankee fan and Florida transplant I am suffering from a new kind of agony – an absolute lack of coverage of the Bombers. I’m relegated to following the games through Yahoo’s game channel for “live” updates. Curse you MLB and your online radio coverage blackouts!

  3. […] call.  It feels like I’ve been sitting in front of this computer since I left that bar Monday, and I’m ready to escape its evil grip and clean the garage, indulge in beer drinks, and […]

  4. […] for you retards, 4/20 commemorates the first game ever played in Fenway Park (1912) and the first Major League […]

  5. […] for you retards, 4/20 commemorates the first game ever played in Fenway Park (1912) and the first Major League […]

  6. […] 5.  Red Sox Nation.  Retards. […]

  7. I live in Red Sox Nation, where the dolts wear red, accentuating their bloated and pale faces. There was a uniquely Masshole look to these guys. And a uniquely Masshole attitude.

    ^^ this is so true. Except they also have youkilis-esque goatees, which make them look quite retarded. I live in boston and hate red sox fans, hate the ugly accent and retarded fans. There is nothing worse than a female loudmouth red sox fan. They can all go to hell!

  8. […] are they so bloated, these Red Sox fans?  We know they are retarded, but the same can be said of most sports fans, including those of our dear New York Yankees.  But […]


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