October perennially seems to be the month when the bandwagon pulls out of the garage and makes its stops, picking up the derelicts who wait on the street corner for their team to finally come around. Ahh, the bandwagon, that rollicking inferno that sets ablaze a never-before-seen passion in lost and wayward fans.
When baseball playoffs start, the bandwagon traditionally makes its first stop in New York. People who couldn’t care less about the Yankees are suddenly transformed into rabid beasts of support, their mouths frothing with the hope that their team will win. This is the first breed of our bandwagon rider; the casual sports fan whose interest only piques when someone fills them in that the Giants are running out the clock against the Jets in the Super Bowl.
“I knew we had it this year. How can you even try to step on the same field as Simms, Hampton, and Bavaro.”
Hate this man, loathe him, and most importantly, when he’s not around, ridicule him mercilessly. These people, bluntly said, suck. They’re the people who in one breath will tell you that “Nomah” has much better range than Jeter, and then breathe a sigh of relief when Bill Buckner isn’t anywhere near first base. “That Bucknah, probably bettah this way, now he can pinch-hit against Gossage.”
Where does this come from? When do the neurotransmitters start clicking in these people’s heads and they suddenly feel compelled to care about something that was just one notch below popping that bothersome pimple on their ass?
I recall a story from my younger days, circa McGwire’s record-setting season. While on some business in Miami, I found a little time to catch a Marlins game at Joe Robbie Stadium. The St. Louis Cardinals were in town and I, like many others, wanted a glimpse of this mythical half-man, half-juiced-up-primitive-beast. At this time, McGwire was single-handedly selling out stadiums. Not Florida though. Maybe they wanted to boycott muscle supplements, but whatever the reason, I walked up to box office and got tenth row seats minutes before gametime. Now that the 2003 Marlins are eerily reminiscent of the 1997 World Series championship team, the Marlins sell out. Or should I say their fans sell out?
The second breed of bandwagon fan is much more acceptable in sporting circles. Rule 10.7c of the fan’s handbook states, and I’m paraphrasing here, that a fan may root for a successful team, if the purpose of said rooting was actually negative reinforcement of a team that said fan had reason to hate. For instance, the Red Sox have become my adopted team for this baseball postseason. I have no vested interest in seeing them win, but nothing makes me more bubbly than watching the Yankees lose. Hence, I am in compliance with rule 10.7c and may continue to do so until the Red Sox lose and the Yankees play someone else, which would automatically entitle me to root for the Yankee’s new opponent. Some may find this unethical, but the rule clearly states I am within the rules of rooting for the game.
Now that we have divided the acceptable forms of bandwagon riding, you must ask yourself who you want to be. Would you prefer to be the knowledgeable sports fan who’s sporting intelligence counter-intuitively compels them to root against teams whose history is soaked with blood? Or does it comfort you to revert back to Little League logic and root for a team so you can be a part of something? If you choose the latter, then join SNAP because nobody likes you anyway.
