Welcome back loyal readers! After a fantastic two weeks exploring Peru (hence the Caught Looking hiatus), I'm back in the States and have mentally shifted into "preparing to move back to the West Coast" mode. There's certainly a lot I have to do before I start my drive out to California in the beginning of September - pack all of my stuff into a small two-door coupe, get a cell phone that doesn't look like it was featured in an early episode of Seinfeld, transfer all of my Kid Rock and Anthrax music onto my new laptop, and more. As usual, though, I've been distracted from my moving-related duties by sports.
Moving across the country is always a big adjustment, and while I'll miss the people on the East Coast (some a lot, some just a little . . .), I don't think I'll really miss being a New York sports fan living in New York. I love arguing about sports, and find living away from your favorite teams to be a blessing in disguise. Growing up on Long Island I always pulled for three New York-area teams (Islanders, Knicks and Giants) in addition to my beloved Atlanta Braves, and while the Braves have been the most difficult to follow, they're also the most rewarding. Remaining a Braves fan over the last two decades while living predominantly in Yankees and Mets territory (and, in college, temporarily on the border of Phillies territory) has made me a better fan. It's forced me to know everything about not only the Braves, but also about their enemies, too. It's been kind of nice to have been surrounded by fellow Knicks and Giants fans while living in New York over the past two-plus years (and I've even become a semi-devoted New York Libery fan while living here), but I'm excited to sacrifice that comraderie for the chance to root for and defend my teams from afar.
This won't be the first time I've followed a bunch of East Coast teams while living in California; from 2005 to 2008, I lived in Los Angeles and played the role of contrarian New York sports fan to perfection (the Giants Super Bowl victory was the highlight of my masterful performance, of course). I missed being able to bond with fellow Braves, Giants, Knicks and Isles fans, and definitely felt like an outsider at Clippers, Dodgers and Kings games. It wasn't easy following my teams, either; most of their games started around 4PM Pacific Time, forcing me to constantly check scores online at work. To top it all off, people made fun of the way I sounded when I said "Mario" (rhyming it with "carry-O") while discussing Super Mario Bros., and while this has nothing to do with sports, it was emotionally damaging nontheless. Despite these rough patches, I'm excited to return to my role as annoying East Coast sports guy, this time under the lights of the Bay Area. I finished my run in L.A. as the strongest sports fan I've ever been; I plan on topping that over the next two years (as a student with more free time, I'll really have no excuse) and some day returning to the East Coast as some sort of freakish super-fan.
For the next two-weeks I'll be here on Long Island, taking the easy route by watching my teams from close distance while preparing to move out west. And if I have any free time, I'm always up for for a few rounds of Marry-O Kart.
1 comment:
Good ol' marry-o. I, too, know what it is like to follow your sports teams from afar. It's strange how it cements your status as a fan. It's easy to be a fan in a specific geography. Because you're constantly surrounded by information (e.g., news broadcasts, articles, random people talking about the new game), one gets lazy. However, it takes some real effort to throw on a t-shirt, go to the local bar that has the out-of-market TV coverage and negotiate with the staff to show your game on a random side TV even though nobody else is watching it.
Without sounding like a total a**hole, this reminds of me Ernest Gellner's Nations and Nationalism. It the pre-world war I world, borders were still pretty flexible. So how is a nation defined? Saving you 250 pages of dense reading, Gellner argues that borders are created by two things: culture and national defense. 1) Where people start having meaningfully different customs and traditions, you're in a new nation. 2) You draw borders where the capital would now send support if a city at that location was invaded. In other words, when the sh*t hits the fan, whose side are you on? War creates nations by strengthening nationalism. Increased nationalism equates to increased pride associated with national customs, ultimately leading to greater loyalty. Look as post-9/11 US. You couldn't find a house without a US flag flying out front. We were attacked and next thing you know we're all holding hands and singing the national anthem on the steps of the Capitol.
The same goes for sports. Being the lone fan, or group of fans, in a remote location is essentially being in hostile or enemy territory. We deal with the battles of colleagues telling us our team sucks, something that rarely happens in home regions, or bartenders attempting to change the channel for "a better game." In turn, we download fight songs, read more articles and make an effort to witness every single game, online or off.
The West Coast welcomes you back with open arms, my friend. John Mara, Steve Tisch, Charles Wang, James Dolan and John Malone are even happier to have you as their ambassador in the land of NorCal 49er bros.
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