Polinaut: April 15, 2006 Archive

There's a hatred out there. And it should stop

Posted at 9:22 AM on April 15, 2006 by Bob Collins (8 Comments)

My son and I went to the Twins game last night. He in his Yankee pinstripe Derek Jeter jersey (he was born in White Plains and, no doubt, picked up his love of the Yankees because his father grew up just outside of Boston) and me in my, well-worn Cleveland Indians jacket.

It's easy being an Indians fan in enemy territory. Although they are a division rival, the Indians haven't won a championship since 1948 and even Twins fans, who love to be victims despite their two championships in modern times, can't relate to that drought.

But a Yankee fan is another story, as many of the thousands of Yankee fans at last night's game (which was a great game), can attest. The Yankee fan represents greed, and arrogance, and championships. But that doesn't mean every Yankee fan in Minnesota is greedy and arrogant. It means they love the game of baseball, and they live and die with their team. Stop me if this sounds familiar, Twins fans.

Last night was a metaphor for the state of this country, especially in the area of politics. And it's not good. We can no longer differentiate between the "teams" we support and who we are as individuals. We no longer care to know the individuals; we jump right to the hatred because of whom the individual supports. Witness the number of people in the last campaign who refused to let their children play with the kids next door, because of the lawn sign that was stuck there.

At least the Twins fans had an excuse. They live in the nation's capital of binge drinking , and the Twins aren't all that interested in preventing their fans from pounding down just as many beers as possible before they close the taps around the 7th inning.

We had a group of six or seven young people in front of us, celebrating a young woman's birthday. And two young men (at my age, they're all young), next to us. It started out innocently enough. Good natured ribbing that makes being around baseball fans fun. "How can you root for the Yankees?" was the usual question.

But as the beer took its toll,it began to get worse, especially as my son observed that Tony Batista's career "highlights," posted on the scoreboard of having played "last year in Japan," is hardly a highlight since it's the baseball equivalent of "couldn't get a fulltime gig so had to take the 3rd shift at JiffyLube (my description, not his).

"Why do you Yankee fans always have to run down the opposition ballplayers?" the glassy-eyed young man next to us leaned over and said, the hint of good-natured ribbing disappearing.

"You know, I've been to New York," he said. I went to an Eagles game once and the fans were awful."

Oh oh. This is bad, he now was no longer able to differentiate between Philadelphia and New York City.

We offered no reply as we continued to exchange in-game pleasantries with the group in front of us, alternately lamenting the Yankees big-spending ways, and loving the plays Derek Jeter and Robinson Cano were making.

By the 8th inning, the Twins were playing well, highlighted by Lew Ford throwing Jorge Posada out at the plate; another great play.

Then I noticed it. It was poster night and the fan next to us was whacking my son on the head every time something good happened to the Twins... in a mocking sort of way (gee, you think, Bob?). My son, who has no propensity toward self-control, found some.

But in the 8th, the Twins scored some runs. Since we knew Joe Torre didn't leave Mike Mussina in for 120 pitches in April because he loves his bullpen so much, we expected it.

When a double down the line plated two, out came the poster....and the whacking commenced. Imagine if a Yankee fan had done that to a Twins fan if the roles were reversed.

So my son grabbed the poster, ripped it to shreds and went nose to nose with the guy as I, alternately trying to figure out how many times Hideki Matsui was dropping the ball and trying to figure out where this confetti was coming from, tried get between the two soon-to-be combatants.

I pushed my son around to my seat and stood next to the guy and said, "enjoy the game and don't hit someone and taunt just because you don't like who he supports. The players are down there on the field, cheer them or boo them, but these people (there were a few Yankee fans there) are here to have a good time and enjoy the game just like you."

As I was saying that, it occurred to me that this is a pointless exercise in logic to someone who doesn't know the difference between Philadelphia and New York City. But eventually, spurred on by other Twins fans who, well, get it, I got the guy sitting down. Or maybe he just couldn't stand up anymore.

He then turned to me and just kept saying, "It's nothing. We're nice..." as he muttered "Minnesota Nice" over and over again to explain why he was whacking someone on the head as a way to support his team, and completely misunderstanding why that would bother someone.

Nothing else happened, Joe Nathan came on to save the game, and when the game was over and the Yankees had lost and the Twins fans were cheering, my son and I stood up and cheered too. We clapped our hands until the players for both teams had reached the dugout, for it had been a good game, we had had a great time together, and we appreciated the game the two teams had given us. As we did so, I wondered if Mr. Minnesota Nice had learned anything at that moment from the fan for the Yankees, who had just demonstrated what Minnesota Nice really is.

We shook hands with the guy in the row in front of us, after exchanging a few comparisons of our fantasy team rosters, we wished each other good luck for the rest of the season, and we left. I walked my son to his car, and walked back to mine down empty streets and thought of the conflicting demonstrations of fan behavior, and what it says about us all.

I thought about our growing comfort with the labels we place on each other, and how they've replaced our desire or ability to get to know the individuals with whom we disagree; ironic given that just a few years ago the Twins marketing slogan was, "Get to know 'em."

I tried to figure out where that comes from and I could reach no other conclusion than it's rooted in a hatred. I hate what you support. So, therefore, I hate you. Missing completely what we have in common (baseball is the greatest game on earth, for example), we seek out our differences.

No amount of Minnesota Nice can cover that fact up.

And it should stop. And we can stop it.

Before someone gets hurt.

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