Being a Scene Beast as I am, what with obsessions ranging from Coldplay to the Oscars, one might find it hard to believe I am passionate about any sport (outside of Irish football, that is). The truth of the matter, though, is that I am an avid baseball fan. I love it. I love sitting way up in the bleachers and crunching peanut shells under my feet. I love cursing at my computer when the ump makes a bad call while I'm watching MLB.TV. I love watching the outfielders toss the ball on the field between innings. I even love complaining about how ESPN has a gross bias toward the American League. Baseball is, as far as I am concerned, the greatest sport even invented (that isn't Irish football) and I can't live without it. Of course, one cannot just love the sport. One must have their Team. This Team is the entity of divine religion, the bringer of Truth and Light, the end all of devotion. Every baseball fan has a Team. We all love the game, but the communal love ends there. My homegrown Colorado heart belongs to the Rockies. Between the months of April and September I bleed purple, singing the praises of Todd Helton (who is the backbone of the team, even if his back kept him out of most of the season) and have a special place in my heart for Dinger, our triceratops mascot. I believe heartily in the manifest destiny that took place last year in the National League, namely that even if we didn't win the World Series, we've got a load of magic and action worth noticing. I love the Rockies and, in the spirit of competition, allow any other baseball fan their obsession, even if it is for a lesser team. We can't all be Rockies fans. That being said, an interesting point was brought up to me the other day. The Rockies are done for the year, never having even touched the top of the National League West. I was therefore explaining to a Diamondbacks fan how excited I am for the Dodgers to go to the playoffs (and, incidentally, making obvious note of how if this happens, his team will NOT be going to the playoffs, hahaha, etc). He got extremely offended at this remark, not because I was dissing his team, but because I was extolling the virtues of a team other than my own. Can a baseball fan have two loves, a lesser and a greater? My mother is from LA. We moved to Denver when I was six months old. There are baby pictures of my little brother in full-out Dodgers gear. I was raised to root for the Dodgers and despise the Giants with all my soul. Somewhere along the line I realized that we no longer lived in Santa Monica, and I had never actually been to a Dodgers game, but only seen the Rockies host them. I wasn't really a Dodgers fan at all, but I still felt like LA fandom was in my blood. So I have reached the point of debate, namely, can I love the Dodgers and the Rockies, but if they play each other root for the Rockies? I'll take the Dodgers over any other team, just not my beloved Rocks. Must I be a one-team fan to be truly die-hard? Everyone watching the World Series picks the team they'd like to see win, yet no one is blamed for disloyalty. Sure, I'd prefer to see the Rockies on top, but if not them, the Dodgers would be my next pick. Is this disloyalty? I don't think so, but my friend claims it is. Can I have a hierarchy of team love? Am I a poser if I wear the Cubs shirt my roommate bought me? As it stands, The Dodgers are rounding the corner to clinch the NL West, and if they make it to the playoffs, my purple-blooded body will be wearing Dodger blue.
