While waiting in a mysteriously long line to enter Dodger
Stadium on Saturday, I had an epiphany. As much as it pains me to
admit, I now understand that Giants fans are the luckiest in all of
Major League Baseball.
Before I go on, let me clarify that I am, always have been, and
always will be a Dodgers fan. My dad grew up going to Ebbets Field,
and one of my first baseball memories is Kirk Gibson’s 1988
World Series home run, even though I was only 4 at the time.
For the entirety of my 17-year baseball consciousness, I thought
I was lucky to grow up a Dodgers fan, and that all those poor,
unfortunate souls who lived in San Francisco were victims of a
geographic tragedy too immense to accurately describe. These
feelings were epitomized in 2002, when the Giants lost a very
winnable World Series to a team that relied heavily on a fictitious
monkey character. I mention this because I know it will irk Giants
fans, many of which still can’t look at less-evolved primates
without bursting into tears.
Through these years, one figure has embodied the Dodgers
fan’s active hatred for all things Giants: Barry Bonds. Until
this season, he was the perfect player that rival fans love to
hate, and after buying tickets to Saturday night’s
Dodgers/Giants game, I looked forward to it, romanticizing 50,000
people endlessly booing one.
In a way, I felt sorry for Giants fans, and I don’t only
mean the ones at the game, forced to fight against the boos. I felt
sorry for all Giants fans, especially this year, for having to
cheer for Bonds in the first place.
With the leaked evidence of steroids use and under a Grand Jury
investigation for perjury, Bonds clearly crossed the fine line from
unlikable player to unlikable human being, and while I can
understand rooting for an unlikable player (see Jeff Kent), I could
only pity those who talked themselves into such a state of delirium
as to support an unlikable human being. We all remember John
Rocker, right?
However, my clear distinction between player and person was
blurred while I was standing in line. Because of the constraints of
the Dodger Stadium parking lot, not my loyalty as a fan, I was
late, and I missed Bonds’ first at-bat. I knew he was up
because anyone in the general downtown area could hear the boos,
but I did not feel the cathartic, group-therapy sense of release I
had anticipated. Instead, I started to worry, afraid of missing
something important.
It suddenly dawned on me that if Bonds were to hit his first
home run of the season, a historic event considering the milestones
he’s attempting to reach, I wanted to see it. Like anyone
else, I want to feel I am a part of history. While he circles the
bases after his hypothetical 448-foot shot to right field, I want
Bonds to include me as a witness.
I would boo that home run, to be sure, but I would be happy to
do so. In fact, I would guess that most Dodgers fans in attendance
would be happier booing a Bonds home run than they were cheering
when he lined out to right on an 0-1 pitch. The Dodgers
intentionally walked Bonds in his next plate appearance, and a
significant number of fans seemed disappointed, suggesting they
would sacrifice game strategy for a chance to either get him out
again, which seems an unlikely trade, or witness that hypothetical
home run.
Unfortunately for myself and other Dodgers fans, such feelings
compose a difficult contradiction. Were we rooting for Bonds or
against him? Did we want him to strike out or hit a ball so far
that it would smash through my car’s windshield, parked
approximately 27 miles away? Before I got to the stadium, I’d
vote for outs, but once I was there, I wasn’t so sure.
Based on other fans’ reactions to Bonds this year, I
assume I’m not alone in my distorted conflict. At least
Giants fans, misguided as they are, can support such a paradox.
They can witness history while rooting for it to happen, making
their psychological makeup much more healthy than any other
baseball fan’s, with the possible exception of anyone who
likes the Yankees.
By the end of Saturday’s game, Bonds had gone 1-3 with a
double. The Dodgers won the game and kept Bonds inside the park.
Why did I feel incomplete?
Tracer doesn’t know what to think anymore. E-mail him
at
jtracer@media.ucla.edu.