Celebrating 25 Years of Fanaticism

fa·nat·ic  (f-ntk)

n.

A person marked or motivated by an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm, as for a cause.

adj.

Fanatical.

Prologue: The Early Years

Being the first born to young parents (Mom was 22, Dad 25) it was only natural that how I would be raised would be a trial by fire situation.  Looking back it was as if I was a younger sibling to my mother because we interacted as such.  We played board games, video games and card games.  Since it wasn't the land of political correctness that it is now, it wasn't about how to play and having fun.  The lesson I took from playing games with my mother was how do I get better and did I win?  I am perfectly fine with this rational.  This viewpoint in activities gave me an advantage over my peers because I was always looking to get better at everything.  I remind my mother all the time about how she would cheer her victories at Pinball and Kaboom! on the Atari over her 7 year old son.  There were no moral victories for me and she never just let me win to keep me happy.  She realized that I didn't get upset with losing, I worked on correcting mistakes until I was able to win.  Even to this day we play multiple games of Words With Friends against each other and there is definitely smack talking going on when one beats another.

My father also had his share of input into creating the fanatic that lives today.  He taught me about sports.  How to play them, how to watch them, how to talk about them and how much fun being a fan could be.  In the suburbs of D.C. in the early 80's it was all about the Washington Redskins, the Georgetown Hoyas and the Baltimore Orioles.  The Redskins had won the Super Bowl in 1982, lost in 1983 and continued to be strong for years after.  The Hoyas had lost the Championship in 1982 and 1985, but won one in 1984.  The Orioles had recently ended one dynasty but with stars Cal Ripken Jr. and Eddie Murray and a Championship in 1983 a new one looked to be on the horizon.  Everything was peachy. The Washington Capitals and the Washington Bullets also played, but nobody cared, especially my dad and so I didn't care either.  Every Sunday at 1pm during the football season we were in front of the television watching the Skins.  There were no ifs, ands or buts about it.  Most of the time they won and life was good.  The Orioles saw their win totals decrease for 5 consecutive years after winning it all in '83.  The Hoyas were always in the mix for a Championship in the 80's, but never got back to another Championship game.

As for playing sports, I started with T-Ball when I was 7, basketball at 8 and soccer at 9.  Luckily for me, recreational sports then weren't like they are today where everyone plays, score isn't kept and everyone takes home a 'Participation Ribbon!'  We were taught the fundamentals and that winning was important.  Sure we weren't devastated when we lost, but winning felt better and we knew it.  My dad was always a coach, not the head coach, but always involved.  He never pushed me too hard, but just enough to remind me to get better.  I was never the best in the sports I played, but I was always a valuable asset to my teams success.  

In my 3rd year of playing organized baseball my team won the Championship, but I wasn't present for the final game as we went on a family vacation.  It was 1987, I was 9.  Looking back it was the worst decision our family made for my psyche.  I lost a rec basketball Championship to the Blue Devils when I was 10 (foreshadowing!!) and that was the closest I ever came to winning anything of significance in that sport.  I stopped playing when I stopped growing after 9th grade.  I won a rec soccer Championship around that same age and I kept playing that sport until after 10th grade when I focused solely on baseball.  Baseball was always my one true love.  It's the only game where the left handed players like myself are coveted.  The best players (mostly) in baseball's history are left handed.  I knew that was my one chance of playing professionally albeit a longer than long shot.  What kid doesn't dream of that?

By age 10 I was playing year round sports, watching sports year round and when it was too cold or wet to play outdoors I was inside trying to beat my mother at video/card/board games.  Even when not at home I was playing competitive activities at Day Care and during recess.  We played Foursquare (no not that 'Where am I?' phone app.) but a game with 4 players, 1 red rubber ball and lots of mini games trying to determine a King of the playground.  We played kickball (with score), work-ups (kickball, but if you made a putout in the field you got to go kick and keep kicking until you got out), Murder Ball (dodge ball w/ flair), Capture the Flag and Football on the playground asphalt.  If there was a game to play, I played it and probably was on the winning side.  I hated losing and if you were going to play with me, you were going to play to win.  My best friend at the time, Michael Greene and I were in the middle of it all. He was the closest I had ever met to someone who had the same drive to win at everything.  It is probably why we got along so well, until it all went awry during our middle school years.  We were 1 and 1A in day care when it came to forming teams.  We always tried to be on the same team, but usually the counselors would make us captains and pick opposing teams.  We loved it. If we were forced inside due to bad whether we whipped out Monopoly and took on all comers.  We'd crush our opponents until nobody was left that was willing to play.  Everything was a competition for us and between us.

When we got to Day Care earlier than the rest, we turned the place into a fort/war zone, pulled out bean bags and made the school's cafeteria into a Vietnam-esque battlefield.  As kids were dropped off they were split into teams and General Wippich and General Greene commanded the troops.  When we left Elementary School and headed to Middle School, we took our competitive spirit with us.

Chapter 1: Middle School (1988-1991)

In 6th grade there are a few things that stand out for me.  Michael and I created a way to make some extra money.  We would walk to the Giant grocery store before school and buy up the entire stock of Bubble Yum Bubble gum.  Each pack had 5 or 6 pieces in and cost about $0.50/pack.  We would sell individual pieces for $0.25 each and take home about $5.00 a day profit.  This was quickly banned by the administration.  We moved on.  We participated in the Middle School Variety Show and because we were the last act to practice, the 6 guys in our act had free roam of the school from 3:30 until about 6 pm.  That's dangerous.  We played team hide and seek or what we called 'Color War.'  As six individuals we would each get a number and each have to hunt for another number.  Nobody knew who were were looking for and who was looking for us.  If you saw someone you had to risk death by grabbing them or run from them and never eliminate a fellow competitor.  This was quickly banned by the administration.  We were now confined to the auditorium and one of the waiting rooms.  

Our group claimed the waiting room as our own and entry was by invite only.  With our free time we created yet another new game.  Using the schools endless supply of masking tape we created squash ball sized tape balls. We played floor hockey.  While on our knees we would split the room in two with one wall being one goal and the opposite being the other goal.  Two teams of three would use their hands as sticks and play 3 on 3 hockey.  Only rules were you can't get off your knees and couldn't cup the ball and lift it off the floor.  No pads, no penalties, just good old fashion hockey.  This game was never banned by the administration until the school renovated and eliminated that room.

As the weather got better we migrated outside and our core group started playing Butts Up.  It was just another ultra competitive game with a ball that ended in pain if you lost.  Losing was never an option.  Then came the Chinese Throwing Stars fiasco.  We learned how to make Origami throwing stars and as we learned, we taught and more and more people were making their own personal arsenal.  Our class decided to have an after school free for all in the school yard (not our brightest idea to do it on school grounds) but about 20-30 kids showed up with about 10-20 stars each and mass chaos ensued.  I would have loved to been a passing observer on Route 7 in Falls Church watching this.  The making and possessing of Origami throwing stars was quickly banned by the administration.

In seventh grade the athletes in our class had began playing tackle football after school on one of the grassy patches in front of the school building.  Michael had started to separate himself as the best all around athlete in our class and he was now playing JV Football.  During one of our games I was 'lucky' enough to be covering him and in the open field had to try and make a tackle.  Thinking better of my chances I must have tried to get out of the way and save my body, but my lower half stuck around and Michael went down hard, face first because of my horrible tripping infraction.  He sprung back up as angry as I've ever seen a human being.  The ball was fired at me and a small scuffle ensued.  Our 6 year friendship was over, right then and there.  It took a good two years before we ever interacted again.  It's just a moment in time where childhood ended and a new chapter of my life began.  He took the majority of my friends with him and I was left to find a new core group.

I continued to play sports year round and the middle school age range was the first time where people were playing because they were good at playing and not just because they wanted to have fun. I excelled at baseball and skipped a level at age 10.  Two years later at the age of 12 my Little League team, the Oakland Athletics, were far and away the best in the league.  We lost one game that season heading into the Championship Game and another trophy seemed imminent.  I made an error at 2nd base early on that scored a run and there was a lack of communication between the pitcher and I in the bottom of the 7th inning (yes extra innings to decide a winner) that allowed the winning run to score as we fell 2-1.  Both runs were my fault and I remember every detail of that to this day.  Is that a problem? Yes.  Should I have let it go long ago? Yes.  Do you recommend therapy for me? Probably.  However you judge me, the facts are the facts, the competitive side of sports had a hold on me and it would never let go.

I was playing on a Select basketball team against the best from other cities.  I couldn't get off the bench though and I knew the end was near for me in competitive basketball.  I was good, but just not good enough for my liking and without a six inch growth spurt, basketball wasn't going to get much more fun.  I thoroughly enjoyed soccer and my school played soccer in the fall which allowed me to keep playing it.

The biggest changes in my sporting life were in the teams that I was rooting for.  The Redskins had just won their 2nd Super Bowl in 1987 so no change was needed there.  They always won games.  My entire life had them at or near the top and I didn't see that changing anytime soon.  In 1991 they put together another Super Bowl winning team, their 3rd in 10 years.  It was a dominant run with an 11-0 start en route to a 17-2 finish.  They were great and their top rival, the Dallas Cowboys, were awful.  

On the opposite end of the spectrum, the Baltimore Orioles were setting records for futility in 1988.  They started 0-21 and after my grandfather sent me newspaper clippings with my Birthday card in early May of how embarrassing they were I quit them...cold.  The only other team I knew at the time was the Oakland Athletics, because that was the team I was playing with in Little League.  They happened to be real good that year.  We were real good that year.  I imagined our lineup as their lineup when we played.  I was smitten.  The Orioles ended up losing 107 of 162 games that year while the Athletics won 104 games which were their most as a franchise since 1931.  The Athletics were heavy favorites to win the World Series that year and were leading 4-3 in Game 1 against the Los Angeles Dodgers.  Dennis Eckersley was on the mound, he was dominant.  He got two quick outs, then walked a batter.  Up stepped a gimpy, pinch hitting Kirk Gibson and this happened.  I was 10, I cried.  I was used to watching my team win.  The Redskins were winners.  This didn't compute with me, I didn't know how to react.  Neither did the Athletics.  They lost the 1988 World Series in 5 games.  I stuck with them though.  I had to.  My group of friends made a pact that we wouldn't flip flop teams that we cheered for.  You pick and stick.  I was now an Oakland Athletics team for life.  The Orioles would always be my local team, but as a 10 year old they were the worst team in baseball and it had become an easy choice.  

1989 was more of the same for the Athletics.  They won, and won a lot.  Back in the World Series for the second consecutive year, the Athletics squared off against the San Francisco Giants and quickly took a 2-0 game lead in the best of seven series.  Then the earthquake happened.  Sports and life were put on hold in the Bay area.  All the momentum the Athletics had was halted and fans wondered if they could get it back.  Ten days after the quake, the Athletics went back to beating the Giants winning the next two games for a series sweep and I had another Championship team!  This was becoming fun.  

Looking to repeat as champions, the Athletics steamrolled through the 1990 regular season and playoffs into their 3rd consecutive World Series.  Heavy favorites again, this years opponents were the Cincinnati Reds.  Anything that could go wrong, went wrong over the next 4 games.  The Athletics were outscored 22-8 in the four games as they were swept away.  It was ugly, but I expected them to be back.  My teams were always good, always in contention.  

1991 did not live up to expectations, the Athletics finished barely above .500 and missed the playoffs.  At least the bottom didn't fall out like the Orioles of '88.

I have nothing against Georgetown save for this.  But more on that later.  This part of the chapter is all about a girl.  In 6th grade a new girl move to Falls Church from North Carolina.  We were a small class (under 100 people) so when new people came along it was big news.  When it was a girl who was easy on the eyes, boys going through the 1st stages of puberty took notice.  I got the first shot of befriending the new girl and we hit it off the only way middle schoolers knew how.  Hand holding, note passing, phone calls and even the occasional awkward kiss.  She was a from a U. of North Carolina family.  Her parents went there and eventually both her and her older sister went there.  Neither of my parents went to college so it was because I lived near D.C. that were rooted for Georgetown.  I liked her, she liked UNC so now I liked UNC.  My family laughed at me.  They cheered against me and pointed out each loss UNC had.  Outside of beginning to wear a ton of UNC hats and sweatshirts (adding to my collection of my other favorite teams) I didn't watch too much of UNC sports.  I did learn that they were good at basketball and usually bad at football.  My fandom was minimal in the early years, but that soon changed thanks to my fellow classmates and even my teachers in high school.

The Washington Bullets had always been a joke of a team growing up.  They were always awful.  I had no recollection of their lone Championship in 1978.  They didn't win a playoff series after the 1981-82 season until 2005.  When it came to rooting for a NBA team I watched the 1988 NBA Finals between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Detroit Pistons.  One of my friends was a big Pistons fan and even though I owned and wore the purple and gold Magic Johnson Converse shoes while playing rec basketball, I sided with Detroit.  I knew nothing about them, but I got a hat and a sweatshirt and went all in.  The Lakers beat the Pistons that year in 7 games, but Detroit came back hungry and won the next two NBA Championships.  I got really into it, but there were no real NBA fans in my school so the season usually came and went without much discussion.  In 1991 their reign of the Eastern Conference came to an end.  Some guy named Michael Jordan (who I had recently discovered went to UNC) helped dismantle the Bad Boys of Detroit.  He went on to moderate success in the 90's.

I discovered a new sport with help from my Detroit Pistons friend.  He played ice hockey and cheered for the Washington Capitals.  My dad would never let me watch the Capitals, so I was relegated to listening to them on the radio.  It sounded great even though I didn't understand much about it.  When I got to watch a game I paid close attention to the rules, because I wanted to be educated about the sport.  There's nothing I hate more than listening to an uneducated, so called fan of a sport yapping about things that don't make sense.  Hockey was new to me and in 1990 the Capitals were really good.  They made it to the semifinals of the Stanley Cup playoffs and even though they were swept in that round it was furthest they had ever gone and that was exciting.  Looking back, I should have enjoyed that season and never watched another game.  Little did I know how cursed that team is and how heartbreaking it was going to be to be a fan of theirs.  The following year the Capitals won their first round playoff series, but ran into the future Stanley Cup Champions, the Pittsburgh Penguins in the second round.  This match-up was going to become a sign of very bad things to come.  I should have ran.  I should have hid.  I couldn't quit them, no matter how much easier my life as a sports fan would be.

My middle school years were exciting as a sports fan.  This was still new to me and I was learning so much about the current state of sports, but more importantly I was learning the history of the sports as I watched.  I had a knack for remembering minute details about sports.  Statistics, plays, players whether important or not to the average watcher soaked into my brain.  If there was an argument about sports in school, I stepped in to settle it.  I was the go to sports guru.  I still remember a game that my 7th grade history teacher would have our class play on Fridays: Current Events.  The class would be split into two teams and he would ask Trivial Pursuit type questions in various categories about what was going on in the world.  The winning team won lollipops.  I was clueless on most current events, but when the sports category came around the entire class would just stare at me.  It was a lot of pressure.  I felt useless if I didn't know the answer.  I had become a one trick pony, the sports know-it-all.  I'm sure this hurt my overall study habits and quality of schoolwork, but I had a niche and it felt good to be depended upon by my peers.

From 1988-1991 my favorite teams (Athletics, Redskins, Pistons, Capitals and Tar Heels) won 4 Championships and lost 3 Championships.  It was a good batch of teams and I was excited to see how many more trophies they would take home during my High School years when being a fan became much more serious.

Coming in the next Chapter: It all comes crashing down, a new group of friends, the evolution of ESPN in my life, fantasy sports, I learn to hate rivals, I learn to pitch, Pinochle becomes a family sport and I realize that hockey doesn't need to be played on ice.