east village idiot

Major League Baseball has made the asinine decision to carry the MLB Extra Innings package exclusively on DirectTV this season. In previous seasons, I could purchase the package on cable and watch my Red Sox at home all season long. But since I live in a north-facing apartment in a walkup building in New York City, where a satellite dish is not only an impractical investment but literally impossible to install, I will have to go elsewhere to watch the games: a bar with DirectTV.

I know I’m not the only one in this situation. So, I suggest that we baseball fans all bill Bud Selig for the massive bar tabs that we will run up over the course of the 162-game season.

Since we’re on the topic of mental imbalance today, I figure today would be an appropriate day to share my favorite team name and logo in all of sports: 

The QMJHL’s Lewiston Maineiacs

I’ve been waiting for some video evidence of this to show up on YouTube, but unfortunately, I’m going to have to relay it to you in the form of a transcript, and you’ll just have to picture it in your head (which, honestly, shouldn’t be that hard to do). This is what transpired early in the second quarter of Sunday’s Bears-Seahawks game on Fox, in a discussion about the length of Shawn Alexander’s cleats:

Joe Buck: I wish I knew which was longer 3/8, 1/2, 5/8… you played in the NFL, Troy: what’s longer, 5/8 or 1/2?

Troy Aikman: [stunned silence] I believe 5/8 is longer.

Joe Buck is one-upped on a third-grade math problem by TROY AIKMAN, a guy who sustained ten concussions over the course of his career.

Sure, they’re easy targets, but as a Red Sox fan, it is my duty to make sweeping generalizations about Yankees fans based on the placement of this decal on a car parked on East 12th Street yesterday evening:

Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting at a table in the window of the Chickpea on 3rd Avenue, enjoying my hummus and falafel plate (hangover cure of champions). As I reached for a pita, the door opened, and five teenage boys walked in and stood just inside the door, about ten feet from me. They started to look right at me, which seemed a little intimidating, but I focused my attention back to my lunch and my reading of the Daily News (what, you think I’m going to pay three bucks for a paper on Sunday? Screw that).

After another bite, one of the boys walked over towards me. “Excuse me sir,” he said. How respectful of him. He called me sir. I’m 24. Ouch. “Can I get a picture with you?”

At this point, I was a little creeped out, and quickly took a defensive tone. “Um, why?” I had no idea what to expect as an answer. Did he think I was a celebrity? Did I know him from somewhere? Was he an ignorant tourist who found it amusing that a white guy was eating falafel and hummus?

“Because you’re a Sabres fan.”

I had completely forgotten that I was wearing my new Sabres cap. I gladly obliged. We talked about Saturday night’s 7-4 disaster to the Caps, one of his friends took the picture, and then he went on his way.

The guy at the table next to me was dumbfounded by this whole scene. He just shook his head after the kids left the restaurant. I wondered if he even knew who the Sabres were.

Later this week, a photo shop in Buffalo will develop a picture of a complete stranger standing behind me, pointing to my Sabres hat.

Previously: Rangers Fans: Delinquents-in-Training [EVI]

You know Disney company synergy has gone too far when a reference to a Disney Channel sitcom appears on ESPN.com:

In case you live under a rock, the Red Sox shoveled out $51.1 million to win the bid this week to negotiate with Daisuke Matsuzaka from the Seibu Lions of Japan’s Pacific League.

Being a Sox fan, I figured I’d head over to the Seibu Lions web site and get to know him better. Unfortunately, the entire site is in Japanese, so I was forced to turn to my sister to translate his profile for me.

Most of the details make sense: years pro, birthdate, hometown, school, height,  weight, and throwing arm. But the detail highlighted in red? His blood type.

So, Red Sox fans, now you know: Daisuke Matsuzaka’s blood type is type O. This will come in handy in the case that you ever need a blood transfusion from your team’s overpaid star pitcher.

(And not to ruin it for you, but for the sake of showing that I’m not completely ignorant, go ahead and read about the Japanese Blood Type Theory of Personality.)

The biggest football game of the season is this weekend.

Fuck that game. As much as other people may disagree.

The big game isn’t one you’ll be hearing about on ESPN, WFAN, or Deadspin. This big game is between two teams with players who play for love of the game, and definitely not for fame, fortune, respect, a home in a warm climate, or a lot of rushing yards.

What the hell are those helmets? They’re Canadian Football League helmets, you silly American! And my team, the Montreal Alouettes, happens to wear the helmet on the left. And this is the matchup for this Sunday’s game of all games: The Grey Cup - the Super Bowl of Canadian Football.

I know, I know. You’re holding your sides with laughter. But I’ll be the one laughing when you’re stuck on your couch Sunday afternoon, dozing off to an oh-so-thrilling “battle” between the Arizona Cardinals and the Detroit Lions, while I’m treated to a real football game.

I had heard that Rangers fans were just as batshit crazy as Yankees fans, but I had no idea how young they started. Last night, I watched my Buffalo Sabres come back from a 3-1 deficit to beat the Rangers at MSG, 4-3 in overtime. In the suite next to us, separated from us by just a sheet of glass, was a group of 10 rowdy children, all probably 8 or 9 years old. They were all Rangers fans, and they had no shame.

As the Rangers came out on the ice, the kids went nuts. They jumped around and screamed like they had missed their daily dose of Ritalin. Hell, they probably did, as their fathers just sat back, downed some beers, and watched in amusement.

Early in the game, the kids spotted a Sabres fan in the crowd beneath the balcony, and dropped their popcorn onto them from above. This did not bode well for our suite full of Sabres fans on the other side of the glass.

After Buffalo scored their first goal, our suite erupted in cheering. The children took notice, and turned their taunting away from the crowd below. For the rest of the first period, they schemed to come up with ways to taunt us. And once the Rangers scored their first goal, the barrage began. First, in a mind-boggling show of the masculinity of themselves and their team, they lifted their shirts:

They jumped up and down, pointed at us, laughed, and chanted, “Let’s Go Rangers!” The most confusing comment from one of the kids was, “we own this place… literally!” Was his father the CEO of Cablevision? I doubt it.

For most of the game, we all struggled to come up with a kid-friendly comeback as we watched the Rangers take a 3-1 lead. We sat in our box in silence, and we stewed as our neighbors continued to taunt us. Finally, my friend Brendan chose to break the silence with the most brilliant comeback ever:

Obnoxious 8-Year-Old Rangers Fan: BUFFALO SUCKS!
Brendan: You’re fat.

That pretty much shut them up for the rest of the game. So did Buffalo’s two goals in the third period, and our eventual victory in overtime. As we cheered for the game-winning goal, the kids glared back at us. One of them gave us the death stare.

This solved one mystery. I now know where Yankees fans who taunt old men with canes and throw beer on girls wearing Red Sox hats at Yankee Stadium get their start: taunting innocent Sabres fans. They’re delinquents-in-training, and in fifteen years, they’ll be in top shape for getting arrested for drunken disorderly in the Bronx.

A complete list of MLB teams, judging from the selection of caps at Lids on 42nd Street:
A complete list of NBA teams, judging from the selection of caps at Lids on 42nd Street:
A complete list of NFL teams, judging from the selection of caps at Lids on 42nd Street:
A complete list of NHL teams, judging from the selection of caps at Lids on 42nd Street: