Papicock

I am a baseball fan. A rabid baseball fan. I love the strategy, the nuance and the history. LOVE the game. So, when I had a chance to buy season tickets to our AA team here in Portland, I jumped at the opportunity. Beautiful seats, right on the third base side.

Oh, did I mention we're affiliated with the Boston Red Sox? Yeah. What a joy. David Ortiz is rehabbing here, tonight, Tuesday and Wednesday, isn't that neat? Won't it be exciting?

Look, I'll say right now I'm a Yankees fan, have been all my life. However, the fact that we're an affiliate of the Red Sox does nothing to sway my loyalty for my home team, THE PORTLAND SEA DOGS. We used to be connected with the Marlins and I was a Sea Dogs' fan then, and when we're with the Pirates, Brewers or Rays, or whoever, I'll still be a SEA DOGS fan. That said, I do think it's great we get to see Sox prospects play so close to Boston. I also think having a team connected to the Sox is geographically logical, good for ticket sales, the local economy and the life of the team.

HOWEVER...

A lot of you are reinforcing my instinctive dislike for Boston and it's fans, by acting like the Lord Almighty is coming here to rehab. David Ortiz is a guy – A guy who happens to have a sweet swing that can dismantle even the hardest of flame throwers – but a guy, nonetheless. You'd think Bono was coming to everyone's house to cook dinner and immaculately impregnate their wives, with the way this story has been played in the news. I mean, holy crap, people... Really?

And I'll be the first to say, the Yankees' fans who crawl out of the woodwork when their affiliate, the Trenton Thunder, is in town, aren't any better. A few years ago, Hideki Matsui rehabbed a couple games here and I watched a 40 year old man in a fake New York uniform knock over two elderly fans, just to get an autograph.

I guess I don't understand the pattern of thinking, here. Sure, there are celebrities I wouldn't mind meeting. Sheryl Crow is about the only woman I'd think twice about leaving my wife for, but do I really want to meet her? What would I say that every other crazed 37 year-old she's never met hasn't already said? What's the point really? Bragging rights? Why is it that so many find it necessary to become an autograph/photograph hungry mob over someone who can swing a bat or sing a song? What does everyone think is going to happen after you crawl your way up for a forced photo and handshake? Do you think your cancer will be cured? Your debt forgiven? Your lame uncle given back his sight and the ability to walk again?

How about taking the high road, folks? How about not spending upwards of $200 for a $7 ticket on Craig's List? How about teaching kids we're all equally flawed and that handing over cash to be some one's five minute-forgotten-buddy is a bad thing.

Actually, you know what? Go. Have a good time and meet Big Papi. Lose your last ounces of dignity by pushing others to the ground for a photo... Just know this: Any one of you nut jobs, looking for a glimpse/photo/handshake, knock over me, my wife or especially my beer, I will elbow you square in the teeth. Without hesitation.

Consider yourselves warned.

Cheers!

Fakey Rocketh Star