Flip Flop Flyballing: Brian Wilson

For Eric and me, we do what we do in the medium of words. Other people, like friend of the blog, friend of the podcast, and friend of humanity Craig Robinson, have a way with images (well, and words, really). If you aren't already tracking his Flip Flop Fly Ball Tumblr blog, go ahead and do so.

One of Craig's latest illustrations (with a few words appended) says more than many millions of words across the web can:

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="150" caption="CR: "Brian Wilson. Whenever I see his face, I can’t help but imagine him as a Cyclops.""][/caption]

Rooting Interests

[caption id="attachment_2031" align="aligncenter" width="444" caption="via Flickr user keko1984"][/caption]

We spend a good amount of time parsing out which team we're rooting for in the playoffs. Eric and I go back and forth about these concerns, mostly because it's a fun way to talk about the players and personalities of the teams and the players. You root for a team because of the vibe that it throws off, then you break down that vibe and, voila!, a baseball conversation.

Which brings us to the impending World Series match-up. I can't decide which team to root for between the Rangers and the Giants.

Both teams are riding the momentum train, the hard-work train, and the eccentric Jesus Christ Superstar train. They each have their running jokes, their pleasing mix of old veterans and young burners. They both feature some fantastic hairdos, and they both have players who play the game with aggressive joy. Neither has spent much time in the spotlight or the postseason in the last few years. Each is a kind of transplant from traditional East Coast bastions of culture.

Michael Moore is trying, it seems, to make this into some kind of culture war in his tweet: "The wk b4 election, the World Series matchup couldn't be a better symbol of the war at home: San Francisco v Texas, w/ W. in the front row."

That's bullcrap. This series is not a war between, but a celebration of cultures. Of the cultural reps for each team, Brian Wilson is a New Englander who went to LSU playing in San Francisco who touts S&M paraphernalia in interviews, and Josh Hamilton is a tatted addict from North Carolina playing in Texas who instigated the use of an antlers gesture to commemorate running fast, which his Latin teammates have wildly embraced. Each of these players is their team rep because they appear to have the support and admiration of their teammates.

Both of these teams are filled with the reclamation projects and the kids and the kooks that make the playoffs great for the distillation of participants that draw the individuals closer. Making it tough to choose which to root for, though in the end these matters of affinity work themselves out on the reptile brain level, and tend towards the involuntary.

For example, I like the Giants and their band of starting pitchers right this moment, but when I see Elvis Andrus throwing a claw the dugout, I involuntarily grin.

Here's a pretty good explanation of The Claw & Antlers, which is a fine name for a men's fraternal organization or a pub.

Letting it Go

When I was a kid, I wore a lot of sports apparel. A photographic retrospective of the caps and tee shirts, dugout jackets and hoodies I wore from the ages of five to seventeen would probably border on modern art. But things changed for me. There came a point I no longer wanted to give my appearance over to my sports allegiances. There would  still be a few caps and shirts,  and there would still be fandom. But I no longer wanted the teams I cheered for to define my identity, or at least the way people perceived that identity.

There are, however, people who do want that. For a million reasons, there are people who go out there every day dressed as if in surrender to the higher cause of the Boston Red Sox or Oakland Raiders. There are people who dress up in Willie Stargell jerseys because they want express their old-time love of the game and there are people who do it because they think Willie Stargell jerseys look cool. That's all well and good.

My interest is in the complete surrender -- the folks who show up to the game rocking team merchandise down to the official licensed league socks; the folks who wear a jeans, a pinstriped Jeter jersey, and a Yankee cap out on Friday night; the folks who wear the gaudiest, proudest, multi-colored tee shirts of their favorite player. The folks who would wear one of these:

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="322" caption="shirt h/t to Robert Baly at Vin Scully is my Homeboy"][/caption]

You are out there. You who would wear this shirt, or a Pujols or a Mauer version outside of the ballpark or the bar.  And I want to know why that's so (other than its ridiculous, overwhelming brilliance that leaves me undecided as to whether I'm in love or entirely disgusted).I want to know if I'm wrong in saying that surrendering to a shirt like this one -- or to other varieties of full team regalia -- is giving up a bit of yourself.

And if I'm not wrong,if it really is a form of surrender, then why do you do it? Why does anybody? Is it the basic appeal of being a part of something larger than yourself? Is it regional pride? Cultural identification? Sheer oblivious? Fervent, patriotic, extremely blind team love?

There are socioeconomic factors at play here, obviously. Age, class, and race have something to do with the way people dress and the way people express their fandom. Also worth considering is the fact that international sports fans have different approaches. You don't see a lot of Italians running around on Saturday evening in Andrea Pirlo jerseys...

(Please discuss, if you'd like...)

Flashback: A New Hope

From  Episode IV of the PnP Podcast ("A New Hope") published April 2, 2010:

Eric: I think the Texas Rangers will win the AL West.

Ted: I think that’s a bold pick, I think that’s a fun pick, I think that’s an American pick.

I am as of yet unsure of Ted's rooting allegiance in this World Series. He is obviously quite smitten by Pat Burrell. But for the record, I'm Rangers all the way. Antlers.

Style Guide

Jesse Thorn is a style maven, podcaster, radio host and all-around fun person who creates a lot of great entertainment content of all kinds on the web. When he talks about baseball on his podcast, Jordan, Jesse, Go!, however, his co-host Jordan Morris makes fun of him doggedly. When he does get to talk baseball, it's under a cloud of barely veiled boredom and tenuous tolerance. It's nice to see him cut loose.

Dressing for the Occasion, Put This On