Shut the fuck up: My love/hate relationship with Boston sports fans
I’m on a train heading into Boston right now. It’s a raw, Monday morning and I’m pretty sure that it’s starting to rain outside. Nothing too out of the ordinary, except that today just happens to be Opening Day for the MLB and the game just happens to be at Fenway Park and I just happen to be riding the train with a bunch of drunk douchebags.
Oh and it’s also 10 am, probably should mention that too.
Now, I obviously love my Boston sports teams and will be listening to the Opening Day radio broadcast on my iPhone while I slave away at work. I’ll attend a few Sox games this summer and probably watch a majority of them either at home, a bar, or at a buddy’s house. There’s nothing in the world like baseball in the summertime and managing three fantasy baseball leagues at a time. It’s the same routine with the Bruins; some of the best memories I have of sporting events or memorable games have come from the B’s. I fistpump when my teams win, and swear when my teams lose. Come playoffs, I’ll most likely be inconsolable when a Boston team is eliminated or go broke buying championship t-shirts, DVDs and bobbleheads. But holy shit, Boston sports fan are annoying.
Right now, my iPod is turned up to maximum volume and I can still hear every bit of their conversations about getting “fahkin shitty,” “the Sahx,” and “fahkin Manny.” I should make it a point to say that these people are NOT from Boston. They got on the train with me in Providence, clearly one hour removed from any type of Boston accent. I go to check my e-mail and twitter and find out that the game was postponed until tomorrow and that these poor fans who think they got an early start by drinking early and taking the 9:30 train into Boston for a 2pm game actually just got fucked over. Royally.
I think about telling the grim news; the group of 7 guys and 1 girl with a pink Red Sox hat no less. They’re all wearing some bit of Sox clothing with two of the heavier set men wearing Celtics gear. Typical Boston fans and their unspoken Boston fan code for sporting events: if you don’t have a jersey or t-shirt for the team you’re going to see, it’s totally fine to wear another jersey from another Boston sport. You see this a lot at the Bruins games (surprise, surprise).
I decide that I actually feel bad for these people and the fact that two of them “totally fahkin skipped work, bro” and will probably have to do it all over again tomorrow. I mean, as much as I suddenly despised these idiots, I felt for them somewhat. We’re all in this together, right? We’re all rooting for the same team at the end of the day. These are the same people I’ll exchange high-fives with come that game-tying or game-winning home run at Fenway. I might even strike up conversation with them in between innings about pitch counts, possible injuries and just how long before the Sox give up on Varitek (3 months, is my guess).
I kid you not, just as I’m about to break the bad news to them because of the unspoken Boston fan code for brotherhood, some businessman, Blackberry in hand, Metro in the other, does it for me.
“YOU FAHKIN’ KIDDIN ME, BRAH?! WHAT THE FAHK, DUDE?!”
Thank God. Any type of comradely I felt for my fellow fanatics fleeted instantly. No, these people were actually drunken douchebags who probably didn’t even know who was pitching today (Josh Beckett). The poor guy who told them scurried back to his seat and ended up getting off at the next stop. Coincidence or fear of the Boston fan? I’d say a little bit of both.
So, my fair-weathered friends debated on getting off at a random stop and waiting to take a train back (senseless, at best) or going into Boston, finding “some bah near the pahk, if there is one” (holy shit, dudeguys) and “drink till tomorrow.”
Their talk quieted down a bit and they became sullen with the news finally sinking in. One of them looked like someone just stole their ice cream cone and proceeded to spit in their face and step on their toe. “Shit, guys, this really sucks,” he said. Again, I felt bad but that’s only because I’m a nice guy with feelings. The rest of the train ride went on and their talk turned into whatever it is they do for a living. I should also point out that the majority of their Boston accents suddenly disappeared for whatever reason. They got loud again, got off and said they would find a bar to drink away their sorrows.
Ugh, all Boston fans are really in this together. I’m off to work now, with no opening day radio broadcast to listen to. This really sucks.
