I'm an Atlanta Braves fan and I'm not angry. Really, I'm not. Yes, they were just knocked out of the playoffs in the Division Series for the third straight year, now making it thirteen division titles in a row with only one World Series ring to show for it. And yes, Braves pitching coach Leo Mazzone just recorded his No. 889,622,455,761 consecutive rock in a tense situation. But I'm not angry. I'm not even upset at how much outfielder J.D. Drew sucks.
Wanna know why? Because I gave up a long, long time ago. I know, I know. It sounds like an awful thing to say and you probably think it makes me a bad fan. But trust me; this is the only way to be a Braves fan anymore. It's hard to actively root for the Braves to win in the playoffs, because I know they're going to lose. It's been proven in 12 of the last 13 seasons. No doubt about it.
There's a reason the Braves have awful postseason attendance: If you had the choice between seeing a definite Braves loss or a potential Mike Vick 80-yard run in an Atlanta Falcons game, which would you choose? You can't blame the fans for not showing up anymore to execute a tired and futile Tomahawk.
I don't expect anyone in Red Sox Nation to feel badly for me given the amount of regular season success the Braves have enjoyed and the amount of frustration Sox fans have felt. But I do argue that, in a way, my pain is worse than the pain of Sox fans.
See, all the hope has been sucked from me. I go into every year knowing that we're going to make the postseason but also knowing we're going to lose once we get there - where's the excitement in that? You Sox fans still have hope that you're finally going to win this year. As Sports Illustrated's John Donovan wrote, the Sox "know they can beat the Yanks." And that's the difference between you and me. I know my team can't win. And that's an awful feeling to have.
No offense to Boston, but not too many collegiate members of Sox Nation probably remember Bill Buckner. Granted, the Sox experience is an intense suffering passed down through generations. And I know you think your suffering is worse. But I've experienced postseason anguish first hand, year after year.
I wrote a paper for Sol Gittleman's Writing About Baseball class freshman year analyzing why the Braves suck in the postseason. I could explain it in depth, but basically it says that between bad luck, the Braves sucking, and other teams being better, the Braves suck in the postseason. It was a depressing paper to write, but at least I got an A (thanks, Sol).
So, despite all this, why am I a Braves fan? Well as Sox fans know, we generally don't have a choice in these types of things. But that might not be the case here. I live in Pennsylvania and my two favorite teams are the Philadelphia Eagles and 76ers. I can't explain exactly why I started liking the Braves. But I've learned how to respond to bandwagon accusations and raised eyebrows: "It beats being a Phillies fan." If you're under the age of 25, that really could be the response to almost any insult or putdown.
Now I'm not telling the Nation to give up hope; we all know it won't. And I don't want Sox fans to think I'm attacking them or that I'm downplaying their suffering and pouring salt in the Game One wound - that kind of thing was Elliott Wiley's job. I'm not here to play the outsider attacking the Nation, but at the same time I can't pose as the New Englander who knows Trot Nixon's OPS, and I certainly can't be proud of the fact that Kevin Millar is
growing Alien 5 on his chin. This is really indefensible. Hopefully he's just growing it throughout the playoffs due to superstition and he, Manny, Pedro, JC Damon, and Arroyo aren't having a team contest to see who can sport the weirdest hair.
But I digress: the bottom line is that as someone who is still traumatized by the strange and still-unsolved turn of events in the 1996 World Series (when the Shakira-hot Braves lost despite being up 2-0 going home), we're both on the same side here. And that's the side the Yankees aren't on. I'm rooting for ya.
Back to superstition. I've realized that it's okay not to care about the Braves anymore, at least consciously. I'm actually doing the best possible thing for my team in not caring. Because one year, when I'm not caring, not expecting anything, you know what? They'll win.
As you may be able to tell, I believe in jinxes (not curses, which you'll notice I mention nowhere in this column). There's nothing more devastating than jinxing your team by being overconfident, because you know it's your fault (obviously, I'm insane).
For instance, when the Eagles traded for WR Terrell Owens in the off-season, I disliked the trade and told everyone I knew how it wouldn't work out and how I had a bad feeling about it. Of course, the Eagles are cruising along at 4-0 (and now thanks to me, they'll lose this weekend).
So the question is why did Yankees fan Tim McCarver mention Mike Mussina's "perfect game" about 65 times on Tuesday night? Everyone knows you don't talk about it; it was no surprise that the Sox went off for seven runs. And then, Sox fans, you hoped, didn't you? Admit it, you did. Of course, Millar promptly crushed that hope by popping up with the tying run on third, and the Yanks tacked on two runs in the bottom of the eighth. And of course, when the Red Sox put two runners on in the ninth, you fell for it again, didn't you? You thought, maybe, just maybe ... nope.
See, I wouldn't have hoped in that scenario. I would have known the Braves would lose. And deep inside, yeah, maybe I'm a little jealous. As Elektra King says in "The World is Not Enough", "there's no point living if you can't feel alive." On Tuesday night I saw the passion and the excitement and the exuberance my friends have, and I just can't muster that up anymore. I can't even muster up the disappointment that they had afterwards, and I think that's the worst thing. Any bandwagon Sox fan who doesn't follow the team all year and then has "Go Sox!!!" in red and blue in their AIM profile for two weeks in October can be happy when the Sox win. But only the true fans are crushed by the losses.
Consider that Pearl S. Buck said, "Life without idealism is empty indeed. We just hope or starve to death." But Nietzsche said, "Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torments of man." Not that hope has prolonged the Nation's suffering, of course.
