What Do I Know? I’m Just A Girl

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I am a woman.

I am a woman and I happen to be a sports fan.  A “Gal For All Seasons,” as you can see.  I spend most of my year following sports, and living and dying by what my teams do.

Yes, Virginia, women CAN be sports fans.  Sports nuts, if you will.  Yet, it’s clear that sports networks, agencies and leagues haven’t the first clue about how to market, treat or respect female fans.

I don’t begrudge women who don’t like sports.  As a post-feminist era, erm, feminist, I would be a hypocrite if I thought women who didn’t like sports were some sort of aberration.  But I hate when women act the “shrew” if their husbands like sports.  Like Stacey Tavor Merwin, who famously wrote for Huffington Post on how she voted that her first wedding anniversary took precedence over the Super Bowl.  When her husband works in sports photography for his livelihood.  After he brought up that there may be conflicts with the date in the future with the day SHE chose they get married.

As Metschick mentioned on Twitter, this is the same type of person who would purposely get pregnant in three months from now exactly and schedule a C-section for Super Bowl weekend JUST so her husband would not be able to watch it.  It’s fine if they agreed they wanted to make their anniversary special.  Yet, when you blast it on Huffington Post and talk about sacrifices you make over the year, like walking the dog (something you’re supposed to do) and giving your husband a massage (really? I bet that only happened once), sorry if I find this a little insincere and emasculating for your husband.

Look, women (or men) have every right to either vote their anniversary a higher precedence…if perhaps BOTH parties don’t care about football (especially if you’ve married Frasier Crane).  But it’s women like her that make every single woman who chooses not to like or watch sports look bad.   You don’t like the Super Bowl?  Fine.  But don’t be a shrew who makes her husband, who enjoys the contest, miss it simply because you’re threatened by a FOOTBALL GAME.

Yet, just when I think feminism can’t be set back any further, it gets worse.  Much worse.

CBS Sports, in their infinite wisdom, announces their big launch of a new app called…

Baseball Boyfriend?

Womp, womp, womp.

Just to make sure that women ONLY watch sports because the players are hot or hoping that some day they too can become a Baseball Wife (or Baseball Ex-Wife), CBS Sports puts up this insulting website for women to create female-friendly “Fantasy teams.”  Items of note include: hottest player, and then you can “dump” him.  I mean, how cool is that?? /sarcasm

One of the fringe benefits of being a female sports fan, I can attest to, is being able to watch the games and WATCH THE GAMES, if you know what I mean.  My friend @hildachester and I talk about Chris Capuano now that he’ll be on the Dodgers next year.  I drool over Henrik Lundqvist.  The women I know who also do that are second to none in their hockey knowledge.  I have dubbed catcher Brian Schneider as “Two Scoops,” in deference to his two scoops of butter pecan butt.  But ask people like me and Hilda about baseball and we’ll keep up with the best of them.   Women like us could teach some men a thing or two about baseball.

But sites like these clearly miss the mark in essentially thinking that ALL women are ONLY into these sports because men are hot.  I mean, I guess Baseball Boyfriend is way catchier than say, “Baseball Guys I Want To Boink.”

The irony is that women like myself and Hilda, as examples, is that we LOVE the game.  We may joke about “fantasy teams,” but the reality is, women like us keep up with the best of them by actually having real fantasy teams that we agonize over starting certain players or pitchers over one another.

Please don’t insult our intelligence AND tastes.

I get that it’s supposed to be a fantasy baseball primer for women…but this is seriously offensive to any woman who has ever rooted for a team.  Especially for someone like me, since I’ve been a baseball fan since I was seven and know nothing else.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse…I find out something else.  Just when I think that women’s standing in sports are growing by leaps and bounds (after all, we do represent 45% of the fan population)…ESPN launches a place to complain about female commentators.  Yes, you read that right.  JUST FEMALE COMMENTATORS.

My response?  I take it they’ve never listened to Tim McCarver.  Perhaps they were unfamiliar with the old site FireJoeMorgan too.  And maybe they haven’t heard Jon Miller say “Bel-TRAN” or “Bel-TRAY” one too many times on a Sunday.  **SMH** in the parlance of our times.

Here I thought that maybe things were getting better for female fans or women who work in sports media just slightly.  With the advent of sites like Aerys Sports and espnW (yes I see the irony in ESPN starting a female commentator blasting forum), I thought that maybe showcasing women in a positive sports light would essentially go mainstream.  Guess not.

I can’t even say that I am angry.  I am sad.  Sad that women still get delegated to the cleanup work and still get the most abuse on sports forums when they’re knowledgeable and fascinating and are just as passionate, if not more, than most male fans.  What’s worse?  The major sports media owners (CBS Sports is, well, CBS and ESPN is Disney, for crying out loud) actually AGREES and PROMOTES this behavior!  Sickening.

As Julie DiCaro from Aerys Sports and League of Her Own said succinctly, “Not a good day for women in sports today.”  No, my dear.  Not good at all.

They may not know how to promote to us, but I’ll tell you what: you’re going about it all wrong.  Try treating women sports fans like SPORTS FANS, and not people who need a “female-friendly” option or dumbing down.  It’s not becoming nor is it necessary.

I’m sure at the root of it all is a hope that women just don’t want to be fans anymore.  You’re not getting off that easy, bucko.  I’m not going anywhere.  You can still hear me bitch about this on my podcast tomorrow night and probably in future times.

Little Miss Sunshine: Super Bowl 46

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So there you have it, folks.  Another football season is complete, with the Super Bowl ending just around 10 pm EST yesterday.

As a Jets fan, I was joking around for the past two weeks that I was rooting for a meteor or an epicenter to form in Indianapolis.  The reality is, though, while watching the game, my hatred for the New England Patriots kind of surpassed anything that I’d ever felt.  I can’t say I was rooting for them to lose, but I felt I snickered more at their misery and mistakes more than anything else.   When the game was official, I knew that the Schadenfreude delight was now complete.

I had a Stan Marsh moment too at one point: I learned something on Super Bowl Sunday.

I learned that I was a football fan.  I watched the game, and I enjoyed it.  I’ve always said that football is the sport I care the least about, but I found the Super Bowl fun and entertaining, and I was able to eat bad carbs and get away with it.

This is the first Super Bowl that I’ve covered here at Gal For All Seasons, since I’ve only been writing since basically the beginning of football season in 2011.  So maybe I’ll incorporate this every year into the Super Bowl recap.

In the movie Little Miss Sunshine, Olive’s father, played by Greg Kinnear, is a pseudo-motivational speaker.  His philosophy is coined on taking the steps of being a “Winner.”  He starts off the movie by saying, “There are two people in this world: winners and losers.”  The same could be said about sports, obviously, and the Super Bowl is a one-and-done game.  So I’m channeling my inner Little Miss Sunshine today.  Some of the winners and losers may be obvious, but I’m going to have fun with it, as only Coop can do.

WINNER:  Tom Coughlin.

At the beginning of the game, I mentioned to the group I was watching with, that he looked like he aged about 30 years this season.  Talk about a year of ups and downs.  Now he’ll be enshrined in Giants history as one of the best there ever was.

WINNER:  Eli Manning.

This was a no-brainer.  I’ve said all along that I’ve felt that Manning is overrated.  I’ll probably get killed for this, but I still do (you can thank the chemistry of his offensive line for the win last night…not to discount his performance, as he came through when the team needed him most which is more than we can say for the other team).  That said, he’s finally gotten out of the shadow of Peyton…literally.  During this first matchup in 2008, all that was shown was Peyton watching his little brother.  They were in his HOME FIELD…and everyone mentioned that Peyton wasn’t shown once on the broadcast.

Manning may be overrated.  But he’s an overrated QB with two rings.  And will get the respect he deserves, singularly.

WINNER:  Victor Cruz.

I love this guy!  How can one not have fun watching him play?

LOSER:  Bill Belichick.

Cheaters NEVER win, Bill.  I also reacted to Belichick’s vision on screen the way Bluto did to seeing Kent Dorfman’s face on the screen in Animal House.  “AGGGHHHHHHH!”

WINNER: Wes Welker.

Welker has gotten a lot of heat for dropping a crucial pass that could have sealed the fate of the Pats.  He took the criticism, and the blame for it.  He took the high road.  He didn’t need to.  The reality is, it was a poor throw from Brady.  Skip Bayless argued that Brady is one of the most accurate passers of his generation…but it was Brady who made a poor throw to Welker.

At the end of the day, I go back to my original argument.  That this game was the Patriots to lose.  The Giants had absolutely no pressure on them.  And look what happened: they made a somewhat blah game exciting at the end, and they won.

LOSER:  Tom Brady.

BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!

Okay.  I’m done.

BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!

No seriously.  I’m done now.

LOSER:  Gisele Bündchen.

BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!

I’m not a religious person.  But I really dislike when people use their power of prayer for trivialities in life, when there is legitimate suffering in the world.  Especially rich people who have everything.  And don’t get me started on Tim Tebow.  But Gisele’s email heard ’round the world: “Please pray for my Tommy.”  Could you get any more insincere than that?  Here are two people, each independently wealthy in their own right, “praying” for a Super Bowl win?  Get bent.

But it gets better.  Apparently, Gisele had some choice words for her Tommy’s teammates after the loss.  “My husband cannot [expletive deleted] throw the ball and catch the [expletive deleted] ball at the same time.”  I know Brady is one of the best there is, but come on…like he hasn’t choked the same exact fucking game away twice?

Gisele, you seem like an intelligent business woman.  But please keep your mouth shut about your husband’s profession.  It makes all women look bad.

LOSER:  This broad.

Speaking of making all women look bad, Stacey Tavor Merwin has set the feminist movement back at least 45 years by emasculating her husband to the extent that when they got married last year, her husband (who makes a livelihood of sports photography) mentioned that there will be a chance that the Super Bowl might fall on their anniversary.  So what does she do?  Create a hubbub reminiscent of Bridezillas.  And insist they go out on one of the biggest sports nights of the year…and writes about the wifely sacrifices SHE needs to make.  Like walking the dog.  Big fucking whoop.  It’s like the old Chris Rock bit that used to say, “I take care of my kids.”  Yeah, you want a cookie?  YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR KIDS.  And you’re supposed to take the dog out on walks. And if your husband wants to watch the Super Bowl, you could compromise and go out to dinner the night before…or have some kind of special weekend away. I know from being married, it’s about the other 364 days a year, not just that one day of the year.

Women like her need to get over themselves.

Read Kristine Reese’s post on that in The Green Room from Sunday.  Her take on it is better than anything I could ever say.

WINNER:  Womankind.

I was in a house watching the game with a ratio of 3 women: 1 man.  Take that, Ms. Merwin. (And her husband could have totally joined us)

WINNER:  Kelly Clarkson.

Clarkson nailed the Star Spangled Banner.  Some singers make the National Anthem more about “them” and their vocal styles, as opposed to making Francis Scott Key proud, with the way it’s supposed to be sung.

LOSER:  The vicious media.

Kelly Clarkson is a healthy role model for women everywhere.  Because she doesn’t weight 75 lbs is cause for vicious attacks on her body.  She’s healthy.  She looks phenomenal.  Leave it alone, the criticism gets old.

LOSER:  The Half-time Show.

I am a child of the ’80s.  I like dating myself to the extent that I can tell people, “I remember music BEFORE Madonna.”  Like her or not, Madonna helped change the face of music, she changed fashion, she changed the face of pop culture and she changed the face of women and sexual notions.  I was cautiously optimistic about her half-time show, as I’ve heard her shows are very detailed.

She started out strong, got bored in the middle and it ended okay.  But I felt like that episode of The Simpsons, where Homer was watching Bachman Turner Overdrive play and he kept yelling, “TAKIN’ CARE OF BUSINESS!! TAKIN’ CARE OF BUSINESS!!”  To which they said, well, that’s all the crowd wants to hear anyway…so they break into TCB, to which Homer yells out, “GET TO THE GOOD PART!!”

Yeah.  That was how I felt watching that.  While I know Madonna has evolved over the course of her career, let’s be fair: people want to hear the ’80s shit.  If she had stuck to that, I think it would have been a lot better.

LOSERS: Sore winners.

I am a Jets fan.  I probably weighed the pros and cons of this Super Bowl a few times.  I wasn’t going to root for anything, but the Patriots losing did make me smile a little.  The Jets had nothing to do with the games.  They haven’t even friggin played since New Year’s Day.  But sore winners still make it a point to bring up the Jets’ faults.  Again, what the fuck does that have to do with anything?  And most Jets fans were happy about how it turned out last night.  Those who feel the need to bring that up don’t deserve to be happy about their team’s win.  Fuck them and the white horse they rode in on.

WINNER: New York

My mom once pointed out to me that I have an unnatural hate towards all things Boston.  That’s not true.  I don’t dislike the Red Sox.  You know, that whole “enemy of my enemy is my friend” BS.  In 2004, I was pleased as punch when Boston knocked out the Yankees and then went on to win the World Series (mostly as a baseball historian).  But I never liked the town of Boston.  It aggravates me to the point that I just trash it when I’m there.  My mom tells me I have a New York City complex.  While that may be true, the reality is, Boston doesn’t make it any better by contributing to the whole “inferiority complex” thing.  Like Philly. I also have an unnatural hate towards all things New England.  Not lobster.  Or New England clam chowda.  But Connecticut: HATE.  Massachusetts:  Hate hate hate.  I’m sure if I visited Vermont or New Hampshire, I’d find a reason to hate them too.

So New England – Fuck you!  Take a cue from what it’s like to be from a REAL metropolis.

Married to the Mets: The Beginnings

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My dad took me to my first ever game in 1984.  Technically, he tried to take me in June of 1980, the day after Steve Henderson hit his infamous walk-off home run (The “Hendu Cando” game).  As legend has it, Mom and Dad got lost in Chinatown, got into an argument, and we ended up back at home…not before a compensatory trip to McDonald’s.  I was four.  I didn’t know the difference.  Mets, McDonald’s.  Either way, I was going to eat junk food.

I guess I started to get the baseball itch when I was seven, also the same year I discovered Duran Duran and Brit New Wave pop.  Both things helped shape a lot of my personality, and you see a lot of those qualities in me today.  I remember writing a paper (if one can even call it that, at seven years old) on what my dad and my mom liked to do.  My mom liked to bake and shop, while my dad like baseball, and is a New York Mets fan.  I remember my teacher gave me an A, and said that her dad, too, was a Mets fan.  I started watching more games and asking my dad about guys like Tom Seaver (whom he went to see his first Opening Day back with the team since 1977 that year) and Keith Hernandez (who was some guy that was traded midseason, but I had no idea what that meant).

In 1984, I saw Dwight Gooden lose a few times live at Shea Stadium.  But I still bought the hype, drank the Kool-Aid, and was a full-fledged Mets nut.  And I wished that I had known about Strawberry Sundae night in 1984.  I would have been ALL over that game.

By 1985, my dad had invested in a Sunday game pack with his best friend and his wife, my beloved Uncle Gene and Aunt Melissa.  When Melissa couldn’t go, I’d often go in her place.  This became more prominent in 1986, as she had given birth to their first child in the year after, my “cousin” Paul Gene.  I saw something interesting.  My dad became friendly with these guys who sat next to us in Loge Section 22.  I’ll never forget their names: Dominic, Rob and Mike.  Dominic was a typical Brooklynite, who had an accent that I loved.  Rob was a quiet and subdued guy, but treated me like an adult when I talked to him.  I don’t remember much about Mike except that my child’s memory has drawn him into a big oaf.

We have places like McFadden’s at CitiField these days, and the Caesar’s Club and what not to go to if you’re lucky enough to have access to on some level.  Back then, there was Casey’s on the Loge level.  I remember taking many walks with my dad to Casey’s as he went to get his rounds of beers for the guys.  That was something else I remember.  That everyone bought everyone rounds of beer.  The big foamy cups dedicated to Bacchus, and so I wouldn’t feel left out, I got many RC Cola cups in return, still my favorite soda.  Sometimes, we’d take walks down to Field Level for the old Frusen Gladje stand, where I swear still was the best cookies n’ cream ice cream I’d ever had in my life.  I was also partial to the pizza roll (which was this deep fried egg roll loveliness of pizza sauce and cheese and dough) and the old French fries (screw Nathan’s and Box Frites), all served to us by the ever present Harry M. Stevens attendant.

I am a Capricorn and rumor has it we’re an observant astrological sign.  When I wasn’t paying attention to the game at hand (in 1985, there wasn’t a whole lot of reasons to pay attention, since the Mets were winning a lot more that year so it was a lot of standing up for home runs, especially from my favorite Met ever, Gary Carter), I was paying attention to the relationships unfolding next to me.  I was too young to understand, but I did see my dad and my uncle forming relationships with these guys next to him in Section 22.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but it seemed to me that when you had the common bond of a sports team, you had a friend for life.

This may come as a surprise to some people who know me in real life, but I was a pretty shy kid.  I didn’t have many friends, and it was hard for me to relate to kids my own age.  I blamed a lot of it by being socialized with adults growing up, being an only child and all.   As I grew up, when people found out I was a baseball fan (and most importantly, a sports fan and liked many different teams), it was a common thread, a bond which we could all agree upon and talk about.

I always went back to those relationships that my dad formed in the stands with those guys he’d met, simply by accident since they all had Sunday plans and sat in the same row of Loge 22.  It was present in my mind when I met Frank, Tommy and Kim — the “Woodside Crew” — in 2002 sitting in Mezzanine 22.  There was Richie and Roger and the Bensonhurst crew.  There was Julie and Ben and Mark and Eddie in Section 10 of the Mezzanine for Saturday games.  There was Drew and the Bayside crew in Mezzanine Section 14.

Being a Mets fan has shaped a lot of my personality as an adult; but the memories I made by sitting with these folks, simply by chance, really had an impact on my life.  I guess I’m writing this as a way to let them know, if there’s any way they can know about it.

The last we heard of Dominic, Rob and Mike was in 1994.  Opening Day that year, I went with the usual suspects — Dad, Uncle Gene, Aunt Melissa and their two kids Paul and little Kyle (who isn’t so little anymore) — and we had seats in Upper Deck.  I believe this was the year we sat in the second to last row in those sky boxes, to which Uncle Gene said his famous, “I specifically asked for the last row!”  Walking up the ramp, Dad spotted Dominic and Rob.  There was a lot of hugs, hand shakes and “How are the kids?”  Et cetera, et cetera.  I was about to graduate high school that year, and it made them feel old I’m sure.  Dominic was living in Connecticut and had two kids of his own.  Mike was up to the same BS.   We never saw them after that day.  I doubt I would even recognize them now.

Times change, people change.  One of the fringe benefits of being a fan is sharing a moment that’s bigger than you with tens of thousands of other people.  Sometimes, you’re lucky enough to find those special someones who become important to you outside of the baseball game.  Mets fans may be the geekiest fans out there, but we also share more of a common thread than I think any fan base.  This fan base was born of Brooklyn Dodger and New York Giant fans, and both of those teams skipped town over 50 years ago.  There was pain, and baseball died in a lot of people’s hearts when that happened.  But as James Earl Jones said in Field of Dreams, the one constant throughout the years has been baseball.  Baseball has marked the time of America as it’s been rebuilt, erased and rebuilt again.

The one constant in my life has been being a Mets fan.  I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.  I also wouldn’t trade meeting those three goons in Loge 22.  I doubt they remember me, but they left an indelible mark on my heart inadvertently.  Those friendships formed led me to open my heart to many Mets fans, and caused me to write about them and expand my network of friends.

A lot has changed since I was nine years old.  But the constant in my life has been the Mets.  I’m married to them, in a way.  And whoever is my friend or acquaintance has to understand that.  Everyone has their quirks.  My quirk is being a Mets fan.

Podcast Predictions

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Last night was a monumental evening.  Well, for me anyway.  Two things happened.  One was I launched my official Gal For All Seasons podcast.  I didn’t know how I would feel about just talking to myself for a half hour, but I think it could have gone a lot worse.  Many thanks to NDB Media for producing the show.  Looking forward to working with you guys over there.

The other thing was that I actually made some Super Bowl predictions.  I don’t really care about the outcome — I won’t cry if the Patriots lose, but I usually root for AFC in the Bowl.  I didn’t last year (mostly because I hated the Steelers and really have a fangirl crush on Aaron Rodgers).  This year, for obvious reasons, I won’t be either.  But I’m not exactly rooting for the Giants either.  Getting all that out of the way, I have some predictions that I mentioned on the show.

One is that I think this will be a high scoring game.  I also think it’s Tom Brady’s game to lose.  If you think about it, the Giants are going into this game with absolutely no pressure.  They won in 2008, and they could very well win again, against a “superior” quarterback in Brady (blech).  If the Giants win, they’ve toppled over Goliath.  If the Patriots win, well, they beat a team that got by on luck.  It could go either way.  But I’m predicting a BIG time Brady choke.

Also predicted a big game from Victor Cruz.  Probably one of the few Giants whom I sincerely like.  How can I hate on a guy who relishes his Jerseyness?

I also predict that I’ll be eating a lot of carbs.  I’ll be fat and happy on the couch.  That’s something I know I’ll be getting right.

Most of all, enjoy yourselves and drink responsibly.  And that’s a view from The Coop!

All-Star Follies

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I haven’t been a fan of the MLB All-Star Game for a few years.  I think my tipping point was in 2006.  I remember reading some quotes from some players on the Houston Astros who were like, “I won’t be losing any sleep if the NL loses, ha ha.”  Yeah.  My ass.  That’s what happens when you make something that is a glorified exhibition game between players whose team more than likely won’t be making the playoffs to determine home field advantage for a game that the All-Star game has no bearing on.  If you can follow that circular reasoning.

Anyway, I’d had enough of the game when I saw Miguel Cabrera Dorn an easily playable ball in the 9th inning when the NL was leading, and Trevor Hoffman successfully blew the save and the NL went on to lose.  Hoffman’s team had made the playoffs later that season; Cabrera’s team had no shot.  It didn’t matter.  There is a disconnect between what the game actually means in the long run to what the players are actually playing for.

Well, fuck that noise.   I’d had enough of the All-Star Shit Show.  And it’s not much different in the other sports I follow.

My dad once told me of an NHL All-Star Game that one of the teams won by a margin of like 2-1.  It sounded like a great game.  There was a level of competitiveness that the players had and maybe a sense of pride.  You don’t really see that anymore.  It’s now more of a “I can score more goals that you can.”  It’s a combination of “I don’t want to deface this property” or Roger Dorn-ism that these players are voted in.  It’s supposed to be an “honor,” but at the end of it, all it becomes is a shit show.

Like the NHL All-Star Game.  I didn’t know if I should have been happy that Marian Gaborik was the MVP…or upset that he owned our Henrik Lundqvist, among others.  I have to say, I was talking about that whole players choosing their own teammates thing, it’s basically Fantasy Hockey.  On one hand, it’s a novelty, and at the end of the day, it’s just an exhibition game.  On the other, I guess I did like the whole Eastern Conference vs Western Conference.  It’s got kind of a Old Timers’ Feel to it (especially when they encouraged Gabby to mimic Artem Anisimov’s “shoot the duck” pose after scoring and a “mini-brawl” broke out, sort of).

It doesn’t count, unlike the MLB game, so that’s cool.  Yet, I have a hard time saying, hey, Gabby was MVP.  Gabby was MVP of what…crap?

And don’t get me started on the Pro Bowl.  Nobody gives a crap about it!  It’s literally just filler for the week between the Conference Championships and Super Bowl.  And that’s it.  Judging from the amount of people who actually watched it, seems like others could give a crap either.

I kind of like the week off of NHL games though.  As a fan, the break is a little welcome, so I can reflect.  But I was ready to jump because there were no sports on Sunday.  No sports!  I’d rather watch nothing than the All-Star Games or Pro Bowl or whatever shit show there is.  But that’s just me talkin’.

How Swede It Is

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How did the Rangers get so many delicious Swedes on their team?

Besides our King Henrik, one of the unsung heroes of this year’s team has been the young Carl Hagelin from Sveeden, ya?  Hagelin has been getting his due, being named to the NHL All-Star Rookie Roster, and narrowly edging out Colin Greening on the Ottawa Senators (in his hometown for the All-Star Game!) in the fastest skater competition last night. He won’t let this go to his head, these titles are more for the bragging rights of fans anyway (which is why I’m writing about it).

Described as a “precocious rookie” by the Daily News, Hagelin joins his countryman Lundqvist along with Marian Gaborik and Dan Girardi in Ottawa to represent the Rangers in the All-Star Game.  In the short-time I’ve seen him though, I’ve walked away very impressed with Hagelin’s skills on his skates and how he can surprise the competition by coming out of nowhere.

Hagelin seemed to click right away with the Rangers’ senior offensive players, like Gaborik (who, in all fairness, has been clicking with everyone this year).  The New York Times provided some good insight into how Hagelin has come into his own in the NHL, given his background and gritty work ethic from his days at University of Michigan.  I’d say 16 points in 29 games, that’s pretty impressive for a young dude.   The law of averages will give us a better idea of what he can do later on.  You can look at it from both sides of the equation, though.  Does he have great support around him?  Yes, of course.  He also seems to be a victim of being young, but in a good way.  It seems like whenever I watch him, I don’t doubt he’s going to do something daring, and when he does it usually benefits the team.

I’m really liking this team right now that the New York Rangers got going on for them.  I love the tough “I-Don’t-Give-A-Shit” attitude from John Tortorella.  I love the hard-work, blue-collar ethic that these guys show by example, like Captain Cally, Gabby, Henrik, Del Zotto and Girardi.  Just this nose-to-the-grindstone stuff that fans can really get behind.  Hagelin fits right into that ethic.  His teammates at Michigan and coaches all agree that he’s a tough player and went above and beyond.

I’m excited to see how Hagelin pans out.  I love watching rookies as they want to pay their dues, and do so by good old fashioned hard work.  Go Hagelin.  And Go Sweden.  Perhaps we can share in some Swedish meatballs and lingonberries some day soon.

Fuckin’ Franco

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I was never a John Franco fan.  Don’t get me wrong: great guy, local boy gone good, a St. John’s guy (my husband’s alma mater), fun dude.  When the Mets went to the NLCS in 1999, I’ll never forget Franco’s reaction as he ran towards Todd Pratt.  Franco was, in a sense, one of us.  But I still was never a huge fan.

Besides the rumors of his meddling in the clubhouse (which he staunchly denies, but I believe there is an element of truth to it), his part of Jeff Wilpon’s inner circle in his later years, I kind of felt like he overstayed his welcome.  Even in the beginning of his Mets career, he was just okay.  I felt like he was overrated.  But I was outnumbered (see: local boy gone good).  Plus, how can we forget that he was part of the reliever combo that my Aunt Melissa referred to not-so-affectionately as “The Heart Attack Twins” (along with Armando Benitez).

Like most Mets fans though, when he returns, I give him his due.  Nobody likes a party pooper, after all.  Yet, it’s a respect thing.  He spent 15 seasons with the organization.  He’s like the later generation’s version of Eddie Kranepool.  Today, we found out that Franco will be memorialized in the Mets Hall of Fame this summer.

But I mostly cheer him because I have a funny memory surrounding Franco.  It had to do with a game I attended with my dad in 1996.  It was a Sunday doubleheader in I think July of 1996.  NO ONE went to games back then.  Meanwhile, we had tickets in Row X in the Upper Deck.  The usher did take pity on us though, he told us we could move down to wherever we liked since no one else bothered to show up.

The first game was a real snooze fest, but the Mets had the lead going into the 9th inning.  As legend has it, John Franco comes in to “close” and lo and behold, blows the lead, leaving the game tied in the 9th, for the Mets to not come back at the bottom of the inning.

This had to have been one of the most boring games I’d have ever attended.   Meanwhile, Franco blows a perfectly good 9th inning lead.  We didn’t even stay for the end of the game, or the second game of the doubleheader for that matter.  The Mets ended up giving up a few runs in extra innings.  But the greatest gift of the day was from someone sitting in Row X in the Upper Deck.

“FUCKIN’ FRANCO!!!!!” is all we heard after the Mets gave up the runs.  Franco wasn’t in the game at the time, but he gave up a perfectly good lead that led to this.  And led to us not staying for game two.  It was just too exhausting.

Even though Franco is a good dude, I usually say, “Fuckin’ Franco!” whenever I see him or talk about him.  John “Fuckin'” Franco.  Congratulations on making the Mets Hall of Fame.  Despite my personal opinion of you, this is well-deserved and you do a lot for the organization.  I will be at the ceremony, since I celebrate all Mets, and I still like Franco as that “good guy.”  But to me, I’ll always add an “F” as his middle initial, unlike my Aunt Melissa’s term of Franco and Benitez, it is in a loving manner.

Hitting Close To Home

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I have friends who are Mets and Reds fans.  I know someone who is a Flyers AND Isles fan.  I have a good friend from the West Coast who is an Oakland A’s fan and a Mets fan (Hi Jess!).

I don’t get it.  I have enough trouble following my one baseball team around the country, and some people are following two, maybe three for each sport!  And it’s not like these people I know who root for these teams have had marginal success over the years.

Something in common for those teams though: They’re geographically insignificant to each fanbase.  Rooting for geographically close teams in the same sport, though, is beyond my method of comprehension.  Mets AND Yankees.  Jets AND Giants.  I feel like there is too much of a conflict of interest, even if, as the saying goes, these teams don’t impact one another directly.

I’ve been fortunate.  Two of my teams won championships in a very short amount of time in my fandom.  Whether they will again in my lifetime remains to be seen.  The Jets constantly tease me and it pisses me off.  Part of my 11-year old mind in 1987 told me to become a Giants fan.  I guess being naive and not understanding the futility of being both a Mets and Jets fan (and Rangers, who at the time, hadn’t won a championship since 1940), I thought they’d just win some other time.

By 2008, I had some choice words for my dad.  “It’s bad enough you’ve made me a Mets and a Rangers fan…but a JETS fan?  What were you thinking?”  Like most of 1969, I’m sure my dad rooted for them in a drug-induced haze and just stayed because he knew nothing else.  But the Giants on my watch have won three Super Bowls, and the Jets none.  But I don’t root for the Giants.  They’re not my team.

Throughout my football fandom, though, I never hated the Giants.  They had more success than us.  Hell, my friend Sully over at Sully Baseball says that New York gets this aura of “championship town,” but it’s hard when you’re a Mets, Jets or Rangers fan (though the Mets and Rangers did have ONE parade in my lifetime) because it’s mostly Yankees and Giants.  So naturally, like many Yankee “fans” I know (because I know fans without the quotes), it’s easy, in my opinion, to root for the Giants because they’ve won many championships.  Especially in my lifetime.  I get angry with my dad and I get upset with myself.  Because goddammit, I couldn’t even make a sport I’m the least invested in easy for myself.

People who root for the Mets and Yankees…okay.  TOTALLY don’t get it.  The rivalry doesn’t make as much sense as it did when it was clearly the NL town versus the AL town, but it’s deeply rooted in history.

Now, most Mets fans had the nine layers of hell series in 2009, when the hated Phillies faced the hated Yankees.  I didn’t watch.  Scenarios occurred that I was happy with, like Cole Hamels being exposed to be the bitch he was, Jimmy Rollins shutting the hell up and Chase Utley owning the Yankees (I’m one of the few Mets fans who actually likes Utley).  But there were some fans who felt the need to root for the one or the other.  Why?  WE HATE BOTH OF THOSE TEAMS.  WHY WOULD WE ROOT FOR ANY SIDE OF IT?  I was rooting for an epicenter to form at Yankee Stadium and suck both teams in and they never got to play.

But there were still some fans who momentarily forgot that they should never ever say the “Lets Go Yankees” chant, because they feel the need to root for someone.  What’s worse, some of these folks became the dreaded “homers” that these fanbases consider their own.  I call those people “frontrunners.”  Just to have something to cheer for.  But it’s more than just cheering.  It’s being happy AND reveling in the victory like it’s your own.  Is it a water cooler topic?  Is it a bragging rights thing?  If these teams are hated so much, why bother cheering at all?  Either way, as fans of a rival, whether manufactured or not, it doesn’t make sense to me.

Now this gets me to the Super Bowl.  Once again, we are faced with a dilemma, if you will, as Jets fans.  The hated Patriots face the Giants.  Notice I didn’t say “hated” Giants.  Because I don’t hate them.  For whatever reason, Giants fans have taken a HUGE dislike to the Jets fan population, at least those who are vocal on Twitter.

So most recently, it’s Giants fans who have made a Jets/Giants rivalry a “real” one, when it never was one.  Or maybe it was bubbling underneath and needed to come up.  Why would I actively root for a team that dislikes my fan base so much?  There are exceptions to every rule, but you get my drift.  It’s a Super Bowl where I could care less really about the teams.

It goes to the whole rooting for two teams.  I don’t get it.  Especially teams so geographically close.  My husband is a Seattle Seahawks fan.  If they went to a Super Bowl, and they weren’t playing my team, I’d be thrilled and excited.  The Seahawks don’t matter to me.  The Giants do and it’s geography, not to mention the success they’ve had in playoffs that the Jets do not have.  It’s easy to root for them and don’t deny it.

I do not buy the “Jets/Giants rivalry isn’t anything like Mets/Yankees.”  If one is a Jets AND Giants fan, one is taking the easy way out because chances are, you will have a local team to support when the going gets going.

This is not a Miss Manners post on who to root for.  Just don’t be a homer.  I don’t like the Patriots, but I respect them.  I don’t dislike the Giants, but I respect them.  It’s an easy situation for me.  I’ll watch the game.  I’ll eat carbs.  And that’s it.

A fan is someone who sticks with their team through the good, bad and ugly, and doesn’t cherry pick a team to root for during the playoffs.   I would say that besides being a Mets/Yankees “fan,” a Jets/Giants “fan” is more of the same, since the Giants have had more success than the Jets ever had or look to have.  It’s an insurance policy, plain and simple.  If it was easy, we’d all be Yankees fans, and we’d all be Giants fans (in New York of course…and Boston fans need to stop complaining!).

And I still don’t get it.  I don’t know.  Must not be in my DNA.

Son of Beech. Sheet. Shoot Out.

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I hate shootouts.

If there’s one thing you need to know about me is that I really really dislike shootouts.  I say it every time on Twitter when I have to watch one on TV.  I attended one live a few weeks ago, and I’m just getting to it now, here.  BlondiesJake said that I may not like it, but if you’re a fan in the stands, you aren’t leaving till it’s over.

I guess he has a point.  I didn’t leave till it was over.  But I still hated every second of watching it.  But luckily, I was in good company, so it was worthwhile.

Back in December, at my annual joint birthday party with Dee, our friend AM came to celebrate with us.  I have to say, that I didn’t know AM very well prior to this night. In fact, I had only met her twice prior to this night, evidenced by these photos below.

 

But we had so much fun at the party, we wondered why we hadn’t hung out till then.  So it was settled: a few days later, we decided to go to the January 11th game against the Phoenix Coyotes at the Garden.

It was a pretty boring game.  It was scoreless most of the game, and went into overtime anyway.  The most exciting parts were when AM and I walked around, as she hadn’t yet been to the “new” Madison Square Garden yet.

 

Though we passed sausage stands and a kosher Mexican stand, AM wanted a pretzel, and we were having trouble finding them.  One of the beer guys was selling popcorn.  We asked if he knew where to get pretzels.  He shrugged, said, “They’re hard to come by on this level.”  They were right behind him.

SMH.

We took a trip to the sky bar in the 400s, and we saw our boy Dancin’ Larry.  We got a dance from him later on too!  The biggest find of the night thought was AM finding the “Yoo-ling” beer.  (It’s an inside joke, let it go).

 

Up to the point of the shootout, the most exciting part of the night was seeing Mark Messier introduce the Pee Wee Rangers in between periods.

 

(And a shameless photo of us two girls)

But to get to the point of the shoot out.  My friend Rob and I have this saying when it comes to them.  “Son of beech.  Sheet.”  It’s from the movie “Stripes.”  Not one of my favorites, but a good quote from it.  But I kept saying it every time there was a shot on goal.  “Son of beech.  Sheet.”

To Jake’s point earlier, I know it keeps fans in seats, it’s not a “tie,” which is sort of boring.  But honestly, I guess I’m just old school.  Give me “Sudden Death,” or give me liberty.  Or something like that.  I guess I just feel like a season or a game should be decided on luck.  Then again, I guess one could argue that the game is predicated on that.  So there’s that.

I just don’t care for it.  Till the Rangers won one live.

There were tons of things that could have gone differently in the game.  But I guess that going with a new friend, and rooting for the Rangers, and seeing a Ranger win…there are worse things in life I suppose.  Like being a Jets fan.  Or a Mets fan.

Yeah.  Son of beech.  Sheet.

Go Rain-juhz.

IDK

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I am a Jets fan.  I’ve made that clear on several occasions.  Hell, I even have a blog dedicated to my fandom of three teams, one of which is the Jets.  But football is a curious sport.  I came around late on football, although I always followed the Jets, it took me a long time to get into the rivalries and playoffs implications and having to pay attention to what other teams do.  Football is really for the ADD addled masses of our society.  It’s a one day thing (potentially spilling over to Mondays), and it gives you an excuse to drink beer, eat wings and go to bars on Sunday.  Not that a nice girl like me does things like that.

Okay.  You can stop laughing now.

Anyway, my point is, I never got Jets and Giants hating on each other.  I mean, whatever, I don’t dislike the Giants, I don’t exactly go out and buy their logo-emblazoned stuff, but I know many Giants fans and always am happy to see them happy.  This year, while watching Jets/Giants, I was at my mom’s.  Her boyfriend is a Giants fan (though if you ask me, he’s just a big NFC guy, he’ll make a special exception to the Baltimore Ravens because he likes their stadium.  Go figure).  She asked me what it was like watching a game with a Giants fan.  I shrugged.  He isn’t an idiot on Twitter, talking shit like they won the fucking Super Bowl.  But I was fine with it.  Besides, I knew the Jets season was over, win or lose.  It could have been, I dunno, the Packers for all I cared and I still would have felt “whatever” about it.

So now, I am walking around New York City, and EVERYWHERE I look, there is some kind of Giants thing around.  Whether it’s a booster, or someone posting a photo of Times Square, the Empire State Building…it’s everywhere.  This isn’t sour grapes or jealousy, it’s just something I thought of.  I was either ignorant to it or just maybe I was thinking of not jinxing anything (Yeah, remember what I said about the whole neuroses of sports fans earlier? I didn’t eat ANYTHING that was remotely Boston related when they played New England last year, and I also wouldn’t eat Heinz ketchup during the conference championship against Pittsburgh…yeah, I know)…but I don’t remember all this hullabaloo last year.

Yes, I know that the Jets practically “guaranteed” a Super Bowl entry.  I also like to point out that Mark Messier “guaranteed” a Rangers win almost 18 years ago, and ever since then, EVERYONE has “guaranteed” a win of fill-in-the-blank.  So whatever haterade coming towards the Jets is deserved.  But I seriously don’t remember such a big deal being made over the Jets last year.  I’d have barely known about it, except, I was a fan and the bar around the corner had beer specials.

I was talking to my Jets blogging touchstone, Jon Presser, earlier on Twitter, and we started off talking about the Mets, then I asked if there was this much attention being paid to the Jets last year.

I got a kick out of that.  After all, I’ve seen it myself.  I really don’t get it.  Football fans can hate whomever they want, but I’m sure there are teams that Jets fans should hate, and they’re not in the NFC.  I also don’t mind when Jets fans root for “New York,” though I don’t particularly do that myself.  Depending on the matchups, I decide who I am rooting for.  But that’s besides the point.  My issue is that Rex Ryan has said he doesn’t want the Jets to be “little brother” in this town.  They fell short, but I see what he means.  It wouldn’t have friggin mattered if the Jets went to the Super Bowl or won last year.  Because they didn’t make it this year, and the Giants are one game away from it, well, that is everything.  I know, woe is us, but I can’t catch a goddamn break with my teams. UGH!

When I said I didn’t dislike the Giants or their fans, yet it seems there’s an incredible amount of hatred towards the team in green, this was the response I got.

Well, look, here it is.  I wish my friends who root for the Giants the best of luck.  All I know is I will be a happy camper-ette if the Patriots lose.  Like Jon said, would the hypocrites come to roost, or because the team wasn’t expected to “do anything” this year, and they’re in the championship game, does it mean it was a success?

IDK.  But according to those same folks, the Jets not making it past the AFC conference game two years in a row meant nothing.  Well, I have to agree.  I would have liked it to go further and they didn’t do shit this year.  But if NYG’s don’t make it to the big show after Sunday, I don’t want to hear it.  Goddammit, anyway.