…. there are two exceptions to my newfound fair-weather fanniness:
~ I will never root for the Patriots.
~ I will never, ever root for the Oakland Raiders. You can’t be a native San Diegan — as I am — and ever root for the evil blackhearted Raiders. Too much history. Too much bad blood. And I’ve seen firsthand how incredibly rude and aggressive their fans are whenever they come to town. That doesn’t fly in SD. We’re just not like that here. If I know the Raiders are coming to town, I hunker down. Literally. Don’t go outside. Oakland Raider fans are acting like wankers and pillaging our city. They’re rude and menacing and large groups of them always end up causing hubbubs, getting arrested, being featured prominently on the local evening news. Every single time. Not my kind of team. Not my kind of people. It’s a game. Let’s not assault people, ‘mkay?
It drives me nuts when people go overboard in their fandom. It is just a game, people.
My version of fair-weather fanniness: I root for the offense. Yay! Go! Get that touchdown/basket/home run/goal! It drives real sports fans nuts. My mom was a huge baseball fan, and I think she would have preferred I rooted against her beloved Cubbies than to root for them at the bottom of each inning and against them at the top.
Philly fans have a bit of a reputation, too–and that’s while being *in* their hometown.
I refuse to root for the Cowboys and I really dread having to pick them for the football pool sometimes.
Everyone has their limits. I think cheering for the Raiders is definitely one of those limits. There is only so much a person can expect from themself, and that is just asking way too much.
I can never, ever root for the New York Rangers, EVER. Despicable creatures of infamy, every last one of them.
Consider this – let’s say that Dr. Who popped in one day in April and told me, “‘Fly, there are two possible timelines, and you get to choose.
“Timeline 1 – the Islanders win the Stanley Cup this year. It’s guaranteed, as long as they make the playoffs.
“Timeline 2 – they miss the playoffs entirely.
“And here’s the catch, old boy… today is the last day of the season, and the Rangers have to WIN in order for the Islanders to make the playoffs, sending us all merrily down Timeline 1, helter-skelter, pell-mell, eh wot!”
And there he is, with his charming half-grin and his sonic screwdriver, ready to twitch the Islanders off to a Stanley Cup, provided that I can stomach them needing a favor at the last second from the [redacted] Rangers.
Honestly? I don’t know if I could handle knowing that the Rangers got us in, even if I knew that we would be champions of the league. (Maybe if Timeline 1 also guaranteed that we’d beat them in the playoffs… I dunno.) It’s just that they’re the ruddy [unfit for publication] Rangers. The pain!…
(When I was younger this dilemma usually was “By some miracle you will make the NHL, but only as a New York Ranger. What say you?” The thought of pulling that sweater over my head still revolts me.)
NF — Hahahahaha! Your imaginary angst is killing me!