Free Agent Fan

I guess you could say I am a born again baseball fan. Having spent 25 of the last 30 years in Alaska it was hard to get invested in a baseball season that was reduced to a dozen or so televised games in October and the occasional triple-A radio broadcast from Anchorage.

Then, after moving back to the lower 48, firmly in my middle age, I attended the first major league baseball game of my life at the brand new Safeco Field in Seattle. I’d never seen anything like it on those seemingly motionless television broadcasts. I’d never sensed it through the radio: The yawning grass bottomed canyon of people. 40,000 of them, and every single one in a good mood. The music and the booming introduction to the next home team hitter. The coiled tension of a pitcher’s stretch and the violent release. The crack of the bat reaching the bleacher seats about the time the runner reaches first base. The tear jerking joyful noise of a stadium full of fans leaping to their feet. The moose mascot on the motorbike. The German sausages and jalapeno pepper poppers. I returned home that night mildly sick to my stomach and fundamentally changed.

It took many more trips to Safeco Field that season of 2000 to get the rhythm of the game and cement my understanding of the play. A hard loss to the Yankees in the Championship Series revealed to me the subtle undertones of that joyful noise of baseball. How three wins in a row produce anxiety, and three losses breed more hope than they do despair. I felt genuine happiness when my team won, and brave resolve when they didn’t. I have never been more thoroughly entertained in my life, so I set out to know the game. I studied the Baseball Prospectus that winter, and followed the player trades. I tuned in early to Spring Training, bought a couple hats and an Edgar Martinez jersey, and declared myself a proud Mariners baseball fan.

But this is not so much about what baseball has done for me and my previously barren life. This is about what I have done and can do for baseball.

Witness, if you will, the fact that my first year as an official Seattle fan The Mariners matched baseball’s all-time winning record of 116 games set by the 1906 Chicago Cubs.

Then, a mere two years later I moved to Vermont, deep in the heart of Red Sox nation. Need I remind you what happened next? The Red Sox on my watch reversed their curse winning the American League Championship series against the Yankees and then their first World Series in 86 years in such spectacular fashion that the 2004 season will be a part of baseball legend for as long as the game is played.

The 2001 Mariners and the 2004 Red Sox. Two teams. Two miraculous seasons. And me.

Now, while I admit that the pitching, hitting, and fielding on both of these historic teams had something to do with their achievements, my presence in the fan base of each team is undeniable proof of the power of my allegiances. Coincidence you say? Heretic. Superstition is to baseball what oil is to leather and it is clear that I am the grease in the glove of success.

So, following in the footsteps of A-rod, Pedro, and Schilling I am putting my free-agent fan loyalty up for bid this season. But, rather than shop it around, I think we can safely streamline the process. Since we all know it will come down to a bidding war between Boston and New York, and we also know George Steinbrenner will never again let Boston have any edge of any kind for as long as he lives – I just want to know how much George is going to pay me to go out and buy a Yankees cap.

Conveniently, my agent is already in New York waiting for your call, Mr. Steinbrenner.

As heard on The Bob Edwards Show on XM/Sirius Radio April 4, 2005