OK, so we found at least two legitimate baseball fans in St. Paul. And they’re the ones who commented on the “Misadventures in Minnesota” post from a few days ago. I called them out, they called me out and then they expected me not to take them up on their offer to meet them in the parking lot before Saturday’s game.
Is there a better way to word that — meet them in the parking lot? It sounds like we were about to fight. I don’t know, maybe we were. But when I rolled up in my new Indians hat and the Max Headroom glasses I purchased earlier in the day at Mall of America, I think any edge I had was removed and any hostility between me and the Minnesotans was gone. So that’s good.
Aabfan — I don’t think I ever caught his real name — knows pretty much everything about independent baseball. I’m not sure how I feel about that, really. Actually, I do. I can never knock passion, so the guy earns props from me. If I managed to hold onto a few of the several thousand tidbits he dished out when I sat with him during Saturday’s game, I supposed I can call that a success.
The major annoyance of Saturday, though, was SuperFan, a guy who the Saints organization pays to dress up in red, white and blue wristbands and a headband with a t-shirt and cutoff baseball pants. Just a really, really irritating dude. He had Friday night’s game off — if he’s such a SuperFan, shouldn’t he come to the game anyway? — so Saturday was thankfully my only experience with him.
He stood up on the dugout during the game — like, as pitches were being thrown and everything, and led the crowd in various chants and cheers. During the game! So I’m supposed to look at him instead of watching this 3-2, 2-out pitch with the tying runner at the plate? Really? I’m spoiled, I know, but I just couldn’t handle that.
I realize I probably complain way too much. I’m sorry for that. But I can say that the two-day excursion to Minnesota (and back) was a highly positive experience. My boys Jeremy and Asa, who I didn’t know very well previously, and I definitely bonded through two 10-hour car rides, trying to find an open restaurant at midnight on Friday, two baseball games and a trip to the world’s largest mall, where I managed to not waste money on some very enticing-looking items. So props to me.
One Comment
Nah, I was never looking for a fight. I just had doubts as to whether you’d stop by and visit. We just wanted you and your crew to know that there are hardcore fans in St. Paul who come early, stay late, like to celebrate the meager amount of warm days we have here by enjoying some tailgating and baseball. You’re welcome to join us anytime you make it up here. Usually we don’t have such a big group tailgating with us, so next time maybe it’ll be easier to have a hardcore baseball conversation.
Superfan is more of an entertainer than a fan. Being Superfan is his gimmick, much like how guys in WWE have gimmicks that don’t relate to real life (been reading that you’re a WWE fan).
As Bill pointed out, there are a pocket of serious fans that sit behind the plate and in other locales, other parts of the stadium need to be subject to Short Attention Span Theatre.
Good job on resisting massive Mall Of America purchases. I know that can be a daunting task. Try living only 40 minutes away from temptation.