Characterizing the Fanbases #9: San Francisco Giants

Welcome to the latest installment of Characterizing the Fanbases! In this series I’m attempting to present the psychology of every MLB fanbase. This series, as you would expect, comes with a disclaimer: These characterizations are based on my own perceptions and opinions, and no offense is intended by them. I freely admit that I’m only one man, and my view is therefore limited. I’m fully aware that many fans will not fit the profile I depict, and that’s to be expected, because it’s impossible to make blanket statements about large groups of people. If you want to contest anything I write here, feel free to leave a thoughtful, civil comment. Otherwise, sit back and have fun reading. Perhaps I might even say something insightful!

I’ve found Giant fans interesting for some time. I remember coming across the website EEEEEE! years ago, and the writing there really struck a chord with me, because the level of good-natured devotion the guys there had to their team always made for a fascinating read. They had all kinds of random memories about games they saw and players most people had long since forgotten, and it was one of the first things that made me ponder life through the eyes of another team’s fans. Who knows? Perhaps without Gregg Pearlman and his cohorts I wouldn’t be writing this blog post now.

So what are Giant fans like? For starters, I haven’t seen much in the way of negative traits, so forgive me if I seem to be inflating their reputation. They’ve always come across as fiercely loyal, yet friendly and intelligent. After waiting 52 years for a title they might be a bit pessimistic sometimes, but perhaps “cautiously optimistic” would be a better description. Before they won it I saw neither defeatist talk of curses nor an overflowing sense of destiny. They were always hopeful without going overboard.

The internet reactions to the 2010 World Series title reminded me of what was good about baseball. Unlike the entitled bully Cardinal fans from 2011, the Giant fans genuinely seemed to be grateful for what they were witnessing, and enjoyed every minute of the ride. If ever there were a group you could feel happy for in the end, it was them. It’s a shame such fanbases aren’t more frequently rewarded.

The only real hate they have is for the Dodgers. They still take games against L.A. more seriously than other games, but they don’t lower themselves to childish bashing as frequently as other teams’ fans do with their rivals. In fact, they seem to have a begrudging respect for the Dodgers, as the Giants have clearly been on the poorer side of the rivalry since both teams set up in California. For a long time the Dodgers seemed to have it all: a beautiful stadium, bigger stars, more national exposure, an iconic announcer, World Series titles, you name it. Now that the Giants have ditched windy, gelid Candlestick Park for charming, comfortable AT&T Park and have two World Series titles to their name, they have fewer reasons to be envious.

Their sense of humor is worth noting as well, as Giant fans strike me as a witty bunch. Whenever I read the comment section of a McCovey Chronicles post, I usually find myself laughing out loud at some point. They also come up with some gems for their sponsorship messages on Baseball-Reference, which make my statistical browsing a richer experience.

Based on what I’ve seen, I think the Giants have the type of fanbase I most wish I could be a part of. Their demeanor and camaraderie seem like a lot of fun. I’ve heard some talk in recent years about Giant fans becoming more obnoxious and self-important (a la Red Sox fans), but perhaps I’ve just been fortunate in that I haven’t seen it myself. Knowing what I do about human nature and the tendency to lose perspective, it’s possible that further titles will eventually destroy the archetypal Giant fan I found myself with an affinity for. However, the lover of humanity in me hopes that it’ll never change.

Characterizing the Fanbases #8: New York Yankees

Welcome to the latest installment of Characterizing the Fanbases! In this series I’m attempting to present the psychology of every MLB fanbase. This series, as you would expect, comes with a disclaimer: These characterizations are based on my own perceptions and opinions, and no offense is intended by them. I freely admit that I’m only one man, and my view is therefore limited. I’m fully aware that many fans will not fit the profile I depict, and that’s to be expected, because it’s impossible to make blanket statements about large groups of people. If you want to contest anything I write here, feel free to leave a thoughtful, civil comment. Otherwise, sit back and have fun reading. Perhaps I might even say something insightful!


Are they the most famous (or infamous) fans in sports? Ask any baseball fan what Yankee fans are like and they’ll tell you: arrogant, loud-mouthed, entitled bullies. And really, why wouldn’t they be? After all, their team is the richest in the game, and they have the resources to buy any elite player they want. They have more than twice as many World Series titles as the next team on the list, and they haven’t been out of contention in the last 20 years. If you’re a bigger-is-better bandwagoner type who wants to follow the rings or a cocky New Yorker, the Yankees are the perfect team for you. 

To say these fans lack perspective is an understatement. They literally believe the World Series should be theirs to lose every year, and they don’t seem to understand what a luxury it is for such expectations to be within the realm of possibility. When they don’t win the Series they feel cheated, as though a rightful victory were stolen from them. 

“Yankee fan behavior” has become a widely-understood description of boorish, classless antics coupled with a sense of superiority. They can throw bottles, harass opposing fans, talk smack and boo as much as they want, but that doesn’t stop them from believing they belong on a higher plane than the rest of baseball fandom. They feel justified in criticizing all-time greats who join their team for not being “true Yankees” if they fail to live up to expectations, all the while elevating lesser players merely for being Yankee lifers. They’ll openly declare that it’s in the best interests of baseball for the Yankees always to be good, because the media enjoys covering their team and constantly perpetuates that idea. Hey, if the writers say it and it validates their wishes, who are they to argue? There’s no doubt in their minds that the Yankees represent everything good and right about baseball, and screw you if you don’t like it, you jealous hater.

While I’ve witnessed enough Yankee fan arrogance in my lifetime to make my blood boil, there’s a part of me that wonders if the Yankee fan isn’t somehow a pitiable creature. Sure, the average Yankee fan has witnessed more World Series titles than some franchises have in their century-plus history, but they still manage to find reasons to be unhappy. The fact is, human nature is never satisfied. If we didn’t constantly have the desire for more, the human race would stagnate. This trait can be the key to a man’s success, or it can be his downfall. Other fanbases realize they’ll never catch up to the Yankees and can therefore be appreciative of what they have, but Yankee fans have experienced higher heights than those other fans, so anything less seems a letdown. Undoubtedly it indicates that they’re spoiled, but once you’ve lived the life of a rich man you never want to walk in the shoes of a pauper.

While the Yankee trophy case is the envy of every other ballclub, it also carries with it the pressure to maintain a stratospheric standard. Because winning the World Series every year would be impossible, the Yankees and their fans are doomed to feel like underachievers in spite of their unmatched success. If the price of having an annually-contending team is the ability to enjoy the ride, perhaps those of us who aren’t Yankee fans should be thankful.

Characterizing the Fanbases #7: New York Mets

Welcome to the latest installment of Characterizing the Fanbases! Perhaps some of my long-time readers remember this series from last summer that kind of fell by the wayside! I was attempting to do each team in alphabetical order, but right now I'm a bit stumped on what to say about the Reds, which should've been the next team. Since there were a few teams for whom I already had my writeups done in advance, I figured I'd go ahead and post them now. Forget alphabetical order!

In this series I’m attempting to present the psychology of every MLB fanbase. This series, as you would expect, comes with a disclaimer: These characterizations are based on my own perceptions and opinions, and no offense is intended by them. I freely admit that I’m only one man, and my view is therefore limited. I’m fully aware that many fans will not fit the profile I depict, and that’s to be expected, because it’s impossible to make blanket statements about large groups of people. If you want to contest anything I write here, feel free to leave a thoughtful, civil comment. Otherwise, sit back and have fun reading. Perhaps I might even say something insightful!




I think to understand Met fans you have to examine their connection to the Brooklyn Dodgers. The Brooklyn Dodger Narrative (TM) has become part of baseball lore, despite some disputable elements. While entire books have been written on the subject, here's the simplified version:

Brooklyn was once an independent city before it was annexed by New York City in the late 19th Century. In opposition to the regal, wealthy, self-important image we associate with NYC, Brooklyn was quirky, working-class and diverse. For many years the Dodgers were a laughingstock, but they exemplified the grit and character of this now-borough connected to a larger metropolis it didn't necessarily feel a part of. Yes, Brooklyn was a true underdog, and when the Dodgers finally started winning in the late 1930's, it was nothing less than the Brooklynites deserved. When Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier for the Dodgers in 1947, it only confirmed the moral superiority of this franchise, essentially making them America's Team.

Of course, the Dodgers had a problem: they always came up short in the World Series. The big, bad, rich Yankees were usually the team to deny them, which was especially gut-wrenching, as it only underscored the cosmic unfairness of life that no good liberal should stand for. Unfortunately, such things were the cross every underdog must bear.

All that changed in 1955. Once again, the Dodgers met the Yankees in the Fall Classic and finally, after seven games and seven previous World Series losses, the Brooklyn Dodgers were at long last World Champions! How grand! How fitting! What a great moment not only for baseball, but all humanity! Since that oppressive unfairness inherent in life still existed though, it couldn't allow those loyal fans who lived and died with the team to enjoy it for long. Led by Walter O'Malley, the team's avaricious villain of an owner, the Dodgers moved west for the greener pastures of Los Angeles after the 1957 season, devastating a community and taking America's innocence with it.

Now, this narrative has some holes in it (too many to discuss, really), but it's more or less the story you get fed. Understandably, Dodger fans were heartbroken when their team moved, and even felt a sense of betrayal. After more than half a century they've never really let it go, despite getting a new team. Why? I can't say for sure. It's possibly due to their own obstinacy, but more likely it's because there's a big market for Brooklyn Dodger nostalgia. The Brooklyn Dodger Narrative (TM) is a poignant story that'll sell well, and due to the New York connection, it'll never hurt for media interest. Perhaps the fans have never let it go because writers, journalists and filmmakers constantly play up the importance of their team's place in baseball history, thereby leaving them with the impression that they were grievously wronged and owe it to the Dodgers' memory to hold a lifelong grudge.

All that said, how does it relate to the Mets? Well, after the Dodgers moved west with the Giants in '57, the National League had no team in New York for the next four seasons. It wasn't until the Mets were added as an expansion team in 1962 that the Senior Circuit returned to the Big Apple. The Mets attempted to create a fanbase from the old Giant and Dodger fans who didn't want to switch their allegiances to the Yankees, and for the most part, it seems that's what they did.

Since we can see that old Dodger fans are given to self-pity, and that many of them and their children (who probably grew up listening to their parents’ stories) make up the Mets' fanbase, what you have is a group that constantly feels unparalleled in its suffering. The Yankees are still the Yankees, and the Mets are stuck playing in their shadow, which only reinforces feelings that their team is underachieving.

If one looks at the evidence objectively, the Mets are probably MLB's most successful expansion franchise. They haven't won the World Series since 1986, but in baseball time, 27 years isn't very long. I mean, consider the fact that there are 30 MLB teams, and only half of them have won titles in the period since the Mets last won it, and you realize their championship drought is really nothing remarkable. Listening to them though, you'd think their plight was on par with the Cubs'.

Most teams go through lean periods, which aren’t fun once you’ve tasted the honey of success, as Met fans have at various times in the past. Having Brooklyn Dodger fans as their forebears, however, has instilled in them the mentality of an oppressed underdog, and they always feel as though their team is somehow screwing them over.

Characterizing the Fanbases #6: Chicago White Sox

Welcome to the latest installment of Characterizing the Fanbases! In this series I’m attempting to present the psychology of every MLB fanbase. This series, as you would expect, comes with a disclaimer: These characterizations are based on my own perceptions and opinions, and no offense is intended by them. I freely admit that I’m only one man, and my view is therefore limited. I’m fully aware that many fans will not fit the profile I depict, and that’s to be expected, because it’s impossible to make blanket statements about large groups of people. If you want to contest anything I write here, feel free to leave a thoughtful, civil comment. Otherwise, sit back and have fun reading. Perhaps I might even say something insightful!


I’m a White Sox fan as well as a Cub fan, so right up front I don’t fit the stereotype. Most diehard Sox fans flat-out loathe the Cubs, and I’m not always completely accepted among them when I reveal my dual fandom. Having an insider’s perspective though, I think I’m qualified to give the assessment that follows.

Frankly speaking, a large number of White Sox fans have an inferiority complex. On a national scale they’ve been overshadowed in their own city by the Cubs, despite the fact that they’ve had more success over the years. They frequently feel like victims of media bias (not altogether unjustifiably), and many of them react with an “us-against-the-world” attitude. While they outwardly resent the lack of respect, they also sort of like it, because it gives them something to rally around. Remember when the Sox had the AL’s best record in 2005 and still got ignored by the national media going into the playoffs? You’d better believe that being doubted made winning the World Series that much sweeter for Sox fans.

The South Side of Chicago is known for being the blue collar section of town, and as such, many Sox fans love players they see as scrappy, gritty, gutsy, and all those other terms that became so popularly maligned during the heyday of Fire Joe Morgan. In the era of pitcher-friendly Old Comiskey the Sox were often built on smallball and defense, so fittingly, Sox fans were used to watching guys who seemed less like supermen and more like everymen.

Even though the Sox have become better known for their home run power since New Comiskey opened, the old mentality maintains some presence among the fanbase. To reference the 2005 team again, the fact that the Sox won it with a balanced roster whose primary strengths were pitching and speed (as opposed to a lineup anchored by superstar sluggers) couldn’t have played into the traditional Sox fan ideal any better.

White Sox fans don’t quite have a national reputation, because the media has never really paid much attention to them. 1918 was a part of baseball lore for many years as a symbol of aching futility in the face of eternal devotion, while 1917 was a year no one had any particular reason to know anything about. When the Sox finally ended their drought, there was no league-wide fanfare like the Red Sox got the year before, just a simple congratulation before everyone moved on with their lives. Unfair? Perhaps a bit, but Sox fans wouldn’t have it any other way. They thrive on their spot in the shadows, and they’d go through an identity crisis if their team were suddenly one of the cool kids.

Characterizing the Fanbases #5: Chicago Cubs

Welcome to the latest installment of Characterizing the Fanbases! In this series I’m attempting to present the psychology of every MLB fanbase. This series, as you would expect, comes with a disclaimer: These characterizations are based on my own perceptions and opinions, and no offense is intended by them. I freely admit that I’m only one man, and my view is therefore limited. I’m fully aware that many fans will not fit the profile I depict, and that’s to be expected, because it’s impossible to make blanket statements about large groups of people. If you want to contest anything I write here, feel free to leave a thoughtful, civil comment. Otherwise, sit back and have fun reading. Perhaps I might even say something insightful!


Fasten your seatbelts, folks. I’ve got a lot to say on this one. I’m a Cub fan myself, and I think it’s time to set the record straight on several things.

First, let’s look at the media image of Cub fans, quite popular with many haters: Cubs fans are one of the most uninformed fanbases in baseball. They know nothing about advanced statistics, the finer points of the game or the business side of MLB. Wrigley Field is consistently sold out, but that’s only because the stadium is a popular hangout for party-animal 20-somethings with lots of money at their disposal. They don’t really care if the Cubs win or lose; they’re just there to eat up whatever entertainment the organization feeds them.

Cub fans are also a superstitious bunch that thinks the reason their team hasn’t won is because a bar owner with a pet billy goat cursed them back in 1945. Really, they’ll blame anyone or anything but the team itself for the Cubs’ failure to win the World Series. 1969? It was that black cat that ran on the field! 2003? It was all Steve Bartman’s fault! And so on. Throw in the fact that they play in a large city, and you essentially have a fanbase full of spoiled rich kids who think they’re better than everyone else, and annoy true fans with their constant whining and lack of perspective. They’re a contemptible bunch, they are.

Whew! It was painful to write that. Now it’s time for some reality.

First of all, I want to acknowledge that most stereotypes have some degree of truth in them, or they wouldn’t exist in the first place. The one about Wrigley Field being a hangout for kids who aren’t particularly passionate about baseball definitely has some legitimacy. The last time I went was 2010, and I remember getting that vibe while sitting in the bleachers. Of course, the bleachers are the cheap seats, which are more likely to attract kids looking for something to do than the ones closer to home plate. It’s unfair to define an entire fanbase by its frontrunners, because every team has them.

The stereotypes that really rankle me are the ones in the third paragraph. While you can surely find some fans somewhere who fit them, I’ve never known a Cub fan who does. The billy goat curse is a total media creation, and no one actually takes it seriously. Truthfully, we’re all pretty sick of hearing about it. I even remember my father yelling at an ESPN broadcast of a Cubs game when they put up a graphic giving stats about the Cubs’ championship drought accompanied by a picture of a goat. The media like to portray the Cubs as some cute, cuddly team that embraces its status as a perennial also-ran, but ask most any fan and you’ll get a different story.

What about Steve Bartman? If I may be permitted to get long-winded here (oh wait, I am, it’s my blog), everything you think you know about Steve Bartman is wrong. Let me say up front that I have never blamed Bartman for the Cubs’ collapse in 2003. Some of you probably think I’m lying, but I’m not. Too many things went wrong to place it all on the shoulders of a fan who interfered with a ball that may or may not have been caught. You know what else? Most Cub fans have moved on as well. With the passage of time, cooler heads have prevailed, and they now realize that Bartman wasn’t the one to blame. The issue is pretty much dead except…there are two groups of people who constantly bring it up: the media and Cub haters (sometimes one entity serving in both capacities).

It’s hard to believe it was less than nine years ago, because the Bartman incident has become the go-to argument anytime someone wants to feel justified in hating Cub fans. “Just look at what they did to Bartman!” The implication, of course, is that the situation proves an evil unique to Cub fandom, and that the accuser’s team’s fans would never have done such a horrific thing.

Yes, the stuff Bartman went through in the aftermath of the incident was pretty bad, but go back and try to put yourself in the shoes of Cub fans at that time. Seriously, imagine it. There you are, a fan of a team that hasn’t won a World Series in your grandparents’ lifetime. You love that team of yours, but that drought constantly hangs over you like a black cloud, and you want nothing more than to see it eradicated. You’re five outs away from seeing the Cubs go to the World Series, something they haven’t done since just after World War II ended. You’re on the doorstep of history. It’s so close you can almost taste it. Emotions are running high. Insert any other appropriate cliché here.

An opposing batter hits a foul ball into the first row stands, the left fielder tries to catch it, and a fan gets in the way. It might’ve been no big deal, but the left fielder, in a fit of frustration, throws his glove down. The TV cameras show the fan’s face up close, making him a marked man. Those listening to the radio broadcast hear the announcers angrily complaining about the interference that cost their team a big out. When the Cubs completely unravel during the inning, the dam bursts and this poor spectator starts getting blamed for destroying the team’s composure. The fans heap abuse on him and he has to be escorted out of the building. Once he gets home, he finds he needs police protection from all the harassment.

It was pretty ugly the way it went down, and it’s heartbreaking that it ever happened. Now, is it fair that Bartman had to go through all that? Of course not. He was just doing what any fan would’ve done, and he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So obviously, the whole situation proves that Cub fans are despicable human beings, right? Ummm, no. Cub fans were only exhibiting an unfortunate element of human nature.

The fact is, when people are in an intense emotional state they’re more prone to engage in less-than-civil behavior. When a large group of people feels the same strong emotions at the same time, they tend to have a mob mentality. It’s not uncommon for mobs to do regrettable things, especially when spurred on by someone in a higher position (like an announcer or player).

Do I think what happened to Steve Bartman was right? No way. The people who harassed him were idiots, and I want it to be clear that I’m not trying to excuse their actions. Do I understand what caused them to act that way though? Yes, I do, and while it was a shameful chapter in the history of Cub fandom, it’s in no way proof that Cub fans are especially malevolent. I’d wager that most, if not all, fanbases can count among them folks who would’ve done the same thing if the team had come so close to ending nearly a century of misery and ultimately failed. If you think your own team’s fans in that precise situation would never in a million years have done that, I can only tell you to get off your high horse.

(On a side note, I find it ironic that Cardinal fans frequently play the Bartman card, yet continue to hold a grudge against Don Denkinger. Cub fans blame their losses on scapegoats and make pariahs out of them? What do you call Denkinger? I mean, sure, the guy had his address and phone number given out on the air by St. Louis disc jockeys, received death threats for the next few years and eventually had to contact the FBI, but yeah, that’s really in no way comparable to what those vile Cub fans did to Bartman, is it? For some reason the Denkinger incident has never dimmed the media’s portrayal of Cardinal fans as the classiest in the game. I guess when they do stuff like that it only shows how passionate they are, or something.)

Right now you might be wondering why I put so much effort into shooting down stereotypes against my own team’s fans when I’ve stereotyped a bunch of other teams’ fans in this very series. All I can say is that I’m attempting to characterize each team’s fanbase as accurately as possible (with the obvious concessions to the millions who don’t fit the mold), and if I’m in a position to bring the truth (like now), I’ll do so.

To sum up, I’ll admit that the Cubs have their share of buffoons for fans, enough perhaps to drown out the ones who really know their baseball, sad to say. It’s an unfortunate side effect of having a team with a nationwide following. On the whole though, they aren’t as superstitious or whiny as you probably think they are. There are millions of them who’ll lovingly suffer with their team till the end, and when the Cubs finally do win the World Series, they’ll experience a genuine, heartfelt joy that few have ever known. In the meantime, trying to be optimistic is all they can do.

Characterizing the Fanbases #4: Boston Red Sox

Welcome to the latest installment of Characterizing the Fanbases! In this series I’m attempting to present the psychology of every MLB fanbase. This series, as you would expect, comes with a disclaimer: These characterizations are based on my own perceptions and opinions, and no offense is intended by them. I freely admit that I’m only one man, and my view is therefore limited. I’m fully aware that many fans will not fit the profile I depict, and that’s to be expected, because it’s impossible to make blanket statements about large groups of people. If you want to contest anything I write here, feel free to leave a thoughtful, civil comment. Otherwise, sit back and have fun reading. Perhaps I might even say something insightful!


Ah, these guys. Their reputation has grown in prominence in the last decade, and I think it’s gone through some transformations as well. It might be good to take this thing step-by-step.

Let’s get one thing out of the way first: As a “traditional” baseball market, Boston is home to some extremely loyal, knowledgeable fans. You can see that tons of them know the history of their team and the game inside and out, so never let it be said that I don’t respect that element of the fanbase. Are we good? OK, then. Let’s move on to some less-flattering things that unfortunately must be noted.

I can’t say I witnessed the evolution of the Red Sox fan firsthand, as I’m only in my early 30’s. From what I’ve read though, Boston wasn’t as baseball-crazy as it is now once upon a time. Indeed, a look at their attendance history shows that back in the day they had trouble drawing when they weren’t winning, just like anybody else. It wasn’t until the “Impossible Dream” season of 1967 and the subsequent years of sustained success that baseball became an all-consuming obsession for the average New Englander.

The Red Sox in those days hadn’t won the World Series since 1918, but their fans had many reasons to be optimistic, as their team was usually a contender, and would surely find its way to a title sooner or later. After losing the 1975 World Series, a huge collapse that cost them a division title in 1978, and mid-season fades in the early ‘80s, their disposition became less cheery. It all crystallized during the 1986 season, the year of the World Series meltdown and Bill Buckner’s error. At that point, it seemed like something greater was working against them, and the media happened upon the idea that maybe they were being punished for selling the great Babe Ruth to their hated rivals, the Yankees, back in 1919. Thus, the “Curse of the Bambino” was born.

Like Cub fans, I don’t know that many Red Sox fans literally believed in the curse, but the idea that it was their destiny to lose still weighed on them mentally. The fact that the Yankees were almost always good only served to remind them that they were stuck in Goliath’s shadow. As most people do when they feel helpless against a greater force, Red Sox fans turned to self-pity and desperate lashing out. They might have been saddled with a long drought, but at least they could rejoice in small successes and Yankee failures.

For a long time it seemed as though they defined themselves in opposition to the Yankees. Their rallying cry became “Yankees suck!” which they’d use even when the Yankees weren’t their opponent. They began to believe that despite the Yankees’ greater success, the Red Sox possessed a special moral superiority that the Yankees could never have. After all, unlike Yankee fans, they’d had their loyalty tested with years of struggle. It didn’t hurt either, that the media romanticized them and their sufferings, despite the fact that there was a team in the very same league that had been waiting a year longer for a championship.

When Theo Epstein took over the GM position before the 2003 season, the fan culture began a gradual change. Epstein was a young man who grew up a Red Sox fan, so he attempted to reach out to the people in the stands more than his predecessors did. While the marketing raised the team’s profile significantly, it also led to the rise of what Red Sox diehards derisively call “pink hats,” or more specifically, fans who go to Fenway and root for the Red Sox because it’s trendy and hip. These new fans brought in more money, but many felt they diluted the fanbase’s integrity in the process.

If you’re reading this, you probably know what happened in 2004: The Red Sox met the Yankees in the ALCS and after being down 3-0 in the series, won four straight to take the pennant and eventually their first World Series title in 86 years. It was a storybook season if ever there was one. All talk about the “Curse of the Bambino” was put to rest, and Red Sox fans rejoiced as few fanbases ever had.

Even though the monkey was off their back, cultural values don’t change overnight. They still carried around an underdog complex and whined about the Yankees’ spending despite their own sky-high payroll. They still tried to convince themselves of their own moral superiority and importance despite the fact that they had nothing keeping them down anymore. No longer was it a defense mechanism, but a media-fueled self-hype buying. They began to act as though the entire sport of baseball revolved around not just the Red Sox, but themselves as well. When they lost, everyone was expected to feel their pain, because they were still nursing many previous years of heartbreak.

(Annoying-but-related anecdote: Back in the days when Facebook was a college-only phenomenon, I was part of a group called “I Hate the New York Yankees.” When Johnny Damon signed with the Yankees, some girl started posting a bunch of comments in the discussion section whining about it and asking how he could betray “us,” as though a collection of Yankee-haters were by default a gathering of Red Sox Nation members. I think a lot of “fans” actually believe the entire sport is some big Yankees-Red Sox dichotomy.)

The World Series title of 2007 seemed to put to bed the old way among Red Sox fans. It pretty much forced them to recognize that a championship could now happen to them more than once every several generations, and with their resources, they had every reason to expect a contender every year. Suddenly, there was nothing to distinguish them from Yankee fans except a belief in their own uniqueness. If I recall correctly, the sponsorship message on Baseball-Reference’s page for the 2007 Red Sox used to say something like “2004 was for all the previous generations of Red Sox fans, but 2007 was for us!” Such a statement only suggests that the current generation of the Boston faithful is a special bunch that deserves a title to call its own, and the one they’d witnessed three years earlier didn’t fully count because they had to share it with a bunch of old and dead people. Sigh... I blame ESPN.

While my instinctual feeling about Red Sox fans is a negative one, I’ll admit that I truly do feel some sympathy for the diehard, non-arrogant Red Sox fans that are out there. Their undoubted frustration with the “pink hats” is something I would probably share, as I know what it’s like to root for a team with trendy followers. With declining fortunes the last few years and no more drought to romanticize, the Red Sox seem to be losing some of the hipness they once possessed, and have become just another team in many ways. I hope it continues, because some humility might allow Red Sox fans to become better-known for their good qualities than their bad ones.

Characterizing the Fanbases #3: Baltimore Orioles

Welcome to the latest installment of Characterizing the Fanbases! In this series I’m attempting to present the psychology of every MLB fanbase. This series, as you would expect, comes with a disclaimer: These characterizations are based on my own perceptions and opinions, and no offense is intended by them. I freely admit that I’m only one man, and my view is therefore limited. I’m fully aware that many fans will not fit the profile I depict, and that’s to be expected, because it’s impossible to make blanket statements about large groups of people. If you want to contest anything I write here, feel free to leave a thoughtful, civil comment. Otherwise, sit back and have fun reading. Perhaps I might even say something insightful!

 
The phrase “East Coast” conjures up images of big cities with sizable media presences. Baltimore, however, is the east coast city with a small-town feel. Back in the day Memorial Stadium was located in the middle of a residential area, with nothing but treetops and houses visible past the top of the upper deck. This setting had the effect of making the Orioles into the fans’ neighbors. Instead of local hired athletes, they were members of the community.

When a new venue was needed, it was inevitable that they’d have to move into the heart of the city, but they couldn’t afford to sacrifice their bond with the people in the seats. Memorial Stadium’s successor, therefore, was beautiful Oriole Park at Camden Yards, built to be a fan’s paradise. It was designed for maximum comfort and aesthetic value, and it served as a living monument to the city’s history and ties to the game. It’s now known as the first “retro” ballpark, and it perfectly suited a team that had such a proud tradition of respectability. The Orioles were too good to play in some dime-a-dozen cookie cutter stadium that reeked of cold corporatism; they deserved something classic, and they got it. It became the standard by which all future ballparks would be measured, and it’s arguable that none of its followers has duplicated its charm.

What makes the Orioles so special? Well, in the days before Peter Angelos they were known for doing things The Oriole Way, a top-to-bottom organizational philosophy that emphasized loyalty, intelligence, fundamentals and class. In the big cities they could crassly throw money around on whatever talent was available, but in Baltimore they cared about maintaining a family atmosphere. They weren’t just out to get good players, coaches and executives, they wanted them to be Orioles at heart.

With the organization running itself like a family, the fans embraced the Orioles as such. Brooks Robinson, for instance, became a Baltimore icon for being a great player on the field and a gentleman off it, and to this day he’s so revered that Oriole fans name their children after him. You’d think he was a relative who made good with the personal connection they feel. The Orioles even allowed Robinson to remain on the active roster for about two years after he was no longer effective simply because he was the kind of guy who’d earned the right to leave on his own terms. The thing is though, Brooks Robinson wasn’t a player who put up huge numbers or gave off a charismatic glow. The only thing that qualifies him as a Hall of Famer is the fact that he was perhaps the greatest fielding third baseman of all time, and he was a good enough hitter that the whole package added up to an elite one. He wasn’t even the greatest player to spend his entire career with the Orioles, but to many he symbolizes everything that the franchise represents. St. Louis has Musial, New York has Gehrig, and Baltimore has Brooksie. He’s clearly not the same caliber of player as those two, but beyond a doubt he’s theirs.

In the 1970’s the team began a tradition (which continues to this day) of playing John Denver’s “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” during the Seventh Inning Stretch. Baltimore wouldn’t be considered rural by any means, but the song itself obliquely manages to embody the fans. It’s not lyrically deep (is any John Denver song?), but if there’s a general message that goes beyond the surface, it’s to take pride in what one has. The singer tells us he’s just a humble farmer, but he wouldn’t trade his lot in life if given the choice. He knows how to find joy in the simple things, and as far as he’s concerned, he’s got everything he could ever dream of between his farm, family and fiddle. It’s quite the parallel to Oriole fans’ pride in their city and love for their local heroes. That’s not to say that Oriole fans don’t wish for things to be better, only that their franchise has traditionally aspired to a higher ideal than racking up the trophies at all costs. Even though The Oriole Way is considered a relic from the past nowadays, the fans would still prefer a team that adhered to its principles.

Characterizing the Fanbases #2: Atlanta Braves

Welcome to the latest installment of Characterizing the Fanbases! In this series I’m attempting to present the psychology of every MLB fanbase. This series, as you would expect, comes with a disclaimer: These characterizations are based on my own perceptions and opinions, and no offense is intended by them. I freely admit that I’m only one man, and my view is therefore limited. I’m fully aware that many fans will not fit the profile I depict, and that’s to be expected, because it’s impossible to make blanket statements about large groups of people. If you want to contest anything I write here, feel free to leave a thoughtful, civil comment. Otherwise, sit back and have fun reading. Perhaps I might even say something insightful!


Atlanta isn't known as a great sports city. The Braves got a big attendance boost in the early '90s with their newfound success, then again in 1997 with the opening of Turner Field. After all the winning though, fans became jaded; it got to where they couldn't even sell out playoff games. I recall empty postseason seats even at the Braves’ high-attendance peak in the '90s, so it wasn't just something that happened after they became an annual first-round exit in the early 2000's.

When I was a teenager and hated the Braves with a passion, I used to justify my hatred by pointing to the playoff games that didn't sell out. It proved that these fans didn't deserve the great team they had, I reasoned. Now that I'm older, I'm a little more sympathetic. For one thing, I realize that the Wild Card round has diluted the excitement of the postseason a bit. I've never been a frequent ballpark attendee, since it's expensive and I haven't always had the desire to make the trip, so I can also understand how every postseason game isn't a must-see once it becomes an annual occurrence. Also, as the American South's team of choice, the disappointing attendance likely fails to account for the wide-ranging group of diehards outside the city of Atlanta.

I think most Brave fans are just average people who enjoy the game but don’t obsess over it. Baseball isn’t an integral part of southern culture, so it’s probably not realistic to expect the degree of rabidity that we see in some of the more “traditional” baseball markets. Thanks to the legendary 1991-2005 run though, they probably have more true blue fans than ever. We may have accused 'em of being a bunch of bandwagon jumpers back in the day, but there are now generations that grew up with the Braves being a perennial power, and they see the team as more than just an occasional diversion.

Characterizing the Fanbases #1: Arizona Diamondbacks

Welcome to the first installment of Characterizing the Fanbases! In this series I’m attempting to present the psychology of every MLB fanbase. This series, as you would expect, comes with a disclaimer: These characterizations are based on my own perceptions and opinions, and no offense is intended by them. I freely admit that I’m only one man, and my view is therefore limited. I’m fully aware that many fans will not fit the profile I depict, and that’s to be expected, because it’s impossible to make blanket statements about large groups of people. If you want to contest anything I write here, feel free to leave a thoughtful, civil comment. Otherwise, sit back and have fun reading. Perhaps I might even say something insightful!


It’s easy to imagine that Diamondback fans are a bunch of somewhat-spoiled diehards. Their team was the quickest expansion franchise to reach the postseason (two years) and win the World Series (four). That World Series they won was an instant classic, an assessment that’s stood the test of time. They’re in their fifteenth season and they’ve already won five division titles. With such great success early on, Arizonans must have caught the baseball bug quickly and even started taking things for granted, right?

Well actually, no. Chase Field's consistently low attendance figures show that they don’t turn out in large numbers. While their attendance was strong early on, after the disastrous 2004 season where they went 51-111 it’s been among the more meager ranks of the National League.

So we know Phoenix isn’t the most baseball-crazy city, but what about individual traits? Off the top of my head I remember "1908" signs being held up during the 2007 NLDS against the Cubs, as well as some controversy about a Phoenix DJ making tasteless prank phone calls to Darryl Kile's widow during the 2002 NLDS, so perhaps there are a few bullyish elements. To be fair though, some shock jock and a few random bozos in the stands probably aren't the best representatives of the fanbase. If that was the best I could do from my own memory, I figured it was time to search the internet and find out what others said.

The general consensus seems to be that many fans in Arizona are either transplants or relatively new to baseball. The transplants remain loyal to their teams in other cities and the newcomers are still in the development stage, as they don’t have several generations’ worth of loyalty to uphold. The way they’re most often described is peaceful and laid-back, perhaps partially owing to the desert heat.

I get the sense that the D-Backs’ fanbase is solidifying. If they can keep winning division titles with regularity they should become a force to be reckoned with. Now that they’ve been around long enough to have homegrown players, the sense that they’re watching their own guys play gives them more of a connection to the men on the field than they had in the early years, when baseball’s main appeal was as a novelty. I’ll be interested to see how their reputation develops in the next decade or so.

Characterizing the Fanbases

Ladies and gentlemen, I have yet another series to announce!

One of the many great things about the internet is that it gives us an insight into the worlds of others. Thanks to blogs, message boards, comment sections and whatnot, we're now exposed to the viewpoints of many people we otherwise never would've encountered, and the careful observer can gain an understanding of what the world looks like through these alternative eyes.

As a baseball fan, I personally find it interesting to get a glimpse of other fans' perspectives. The memories they have, the values they hold dear and the moments that stand out to them all provide insight. I root for two teams from the same city, for no other reason than geographical proximity. The question enters my mind: what kind of fan would I be had I been born in a different city and/or time? How would my style of rooting, or my attitude toward the game itself be different? Would there be much difference at all?

I thought it'd be a good exercise to put down my thoughts on paper (or more precisely, a sheet of internet space). What characteristics do I associate with other fanbases? Certainly, many fanbases have reputations, both good and bad.

As with any attempt to filter understanding of a larger group through a portion of its members, this exercise could lead to broad stereotypes or gross mischaracterizations. Reducing a multitude of rooters to one person exhibiting distinct traits, however, is a form of mental shorthand that most of us probably employ at some time or another, particularly those of us who have frequent contact with fans of other teams. Since some people could get offended, I'll give this series the obligatory disclaimer: "I know that all fanbases have their share of cool people as well as jerks, and that many, if not most, fans who read this post won't resemble the picture I paint here. These aren’t meant to be definitive treatises on each fanbase, so don't take it too seriously."

Many teams have fans with no distinct personality, so in those cases I'll attempt to construct a profile based on what little I have to go by. I'll also, where applicable, attempt to contrast stereotypes with what I've seen myself.

Once this series begins, I’ll use this post as a home base for each individual post.

#1: Arizona Diamondbacks
#2: Atlanta Braves
#3: Baltimore Orioles
#4: Boston Red Sox
#5: Chicago Cubs
#6: Chicago White Sox
#7: New York Mets
#8: New York Yankees
#9: San Francisco Giants
#10: Cincinnati Reds
#11: Cleveland Indians
#12: Colorado Rockies
#13: Detroit Tigers
#14: Houston Astros
#15: Kansas City Royals
#16: Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim
#17: Los Angeles Dodgers
#18: Miami Marlins
#19: Milwaukee Brewers
#20: Minnesota Twins
#21: Oakland Athletics
#22: Philadelphia Phillies
#23: Pittsburgh Pirates
#24: St. Louis Cardinals
#25: San Diego Padres
#26: Seattle Mariners
#27: Tampa Bay Rays
#28: Texas Rangers
#29: Toronto Blue Jays
#30: Washington Nationals