The front page headline-inducing fight following Sunday’s Jets-Patriots game had a 38-year-old male Jets fan, Kurt Paschke, throw a haymaker straight into the jaw of a female Pats supporter. I cannot decide what is more ironic in this situation, the fact that the Jets won, or how the same Jets fan had an anti-bullying post on his Facebook earlier in the week.
What is sports fandom coming to that a week seven NFL game provokes a man to coldcock a woman? Paschke, the bully, previously spent three years in jail after being convicted for the fatal stabbing of a 17-year-old inside of a pizza parlor. His mother is defending her son in the fight Sunday calling it self-defense, claiming that the 105-pound girl had thrown three punches at her son (probably 6’3”, 235). He drives around a short school bus that he has converted into the “Jets Mobile.” He thinks he’s a Jets fan. I think he’s a thug.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first incident like this. At the end of September, a Dodgers fan was stabbed to death by two Giants fans outside AT&T Park.
Sports bring out the best and worst of people. Lately, however, they’ve been bringing out the worst. We are in desperate need to re-evaluate what it means to be a sports fan.
Earlier this year, Brian Reese, a junior media arts and design major and close friend, attended JMU’s first-round NCAA tournament game nine hours away in Dayton, Ohio engulfed in purple body paint. Inadvertently, Reese used craft paint — which didn’t wash off easily — and was forced to attend class the following day looking like the Kool-Aid man. He dropped everything and spent hundreds to be with the team he loves. That is true fandom.
So is camping outside Cameron Indoor Stadium days before a coveted Duke basketball game.
And don’t you dare make fun of the Redskins’ Hogettes in Landover. They don’t oink around.
You’re not too cool to be a fan. I don’t care if you’re 20 or 65; it’s not uncool to live in the apparel of your favorite team. My entire wardrobe consists of Red Sox and Phish shirts. They’re my two favorite things in life. Live your fandom like no one is watching. Be proud of your fandom. Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters said it best — “I don’t believe in guilty pleasures.”
This week we embark on the greatest event on the sports calendar all year, the Fall Classic. Fans of the bearded Red Sox and clean-cut Cardinals will leave work early, call in sick, wear fake beards and pay absurd amounts of money to cheer on their team whether it is in Fenway or at Busch Stadium. This is what we live for. Whatever team you pull for, live it; eat up every angle that you can because you never know when it may be gone. Success is not always guaranteed. Between 1919 and 2003, the Red Sox won zero World Series titles. You just never know. That’s what makes sports the realest thing in the world.
As you read this I will be in Boston frantically awaiting Fenway staff to open the gates for Game 2 of the World Series. I cashed out every penny I own to attend this game with my sister. I never second-guessed the decision because I have a lifelong, emotional connection to this team. It just feels right. Hundreds of dollars vanished from my checking account with two clicks of a mouse. It’s just a figure; it’ll come back, I’m sure of that. But will the Red Sox ever make it back to the World Series? That I can’t be sure of.
Live in the moment. Step out of the closet and be profound.
Whether it’s Dayton or Boston you’re bound for, as a sports fan you are called to do something crazy like this. There’s no need to punch a girl, stab someone or even get drunk to be a kid in a candy store throughout this series.
Look for me tonight among the many bearded Boston fanatics, section 37, row 20 in dead center. Don’t worry, I’ll stick out. Go Sox!
Stephen Proffitt is a junior media arts and design major. Contact Stephen at proffittjs@gmail.com.
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