As a 10-year resident of New York City and recent transplant to Los Angeles, I have had the virtue of being immersed in two of the most storied cities for professional sports on the planet. Between the two are 16 pro teams (10 NYC, 6 LA), not to mention squads based in the surrounding areas such as New Jersey and Anaheim. The two towns boast 77 championships between them and play host to dynasties such as the Lakers and Yankees.
As a sports fan, I”m a pig in the sunshine. But as an Alabama native, I have often found myself on the outside looking in. Alabama has never had a major professional sports league franchise. There have been a few minor league teams that would occasionally land a big-time athlete (anyone remember Michael Jordan”s brief flirtation with baseball as a Birmingham Baron?), but take away that and the few glorious months each fall when Auburn and Alabama football grips the state each Saturday, and Alabama gets as much mention on ESPN as astrophysics get on Jersey Shore.
This has had severe repercussions on my fandom. I don”t dare purchase a team”s apparel for fear of looking like a bandwagon fan. I”ve never, upon meeting someone, had the immediate ice-breaker, “What kind of season you think Nowitzki”s gonna have?” Every Super Bowl is like watching the other kid opening his birthday presents.
And while I lament that the MLB expansion never landed us the Alabama Ringworms, I can still relish in the part of professional sports that can transcend the hometown teams … the players.
Every young sports fan has a “favorite player” and mine was Don Mattingly. At the beginning of each Little League season I would try in vain to convince my coach I was left-handed so I could play first base just like Donnie Baseball. I copied his batting stance. I wore No. 23. I did everything short of growing a thick, 80s-style mustache to be like my hero (when I was 10 I dressed as Mattingly for Halloween only to be told that Magnum PI was a Detroit Tigers fan).
But wearing a Yankee hat in Alabama always elicited the same thing. “Hey man. Take that Yankee hat off. You”re in ”Bama, boy” (insert clich? redneck accent). When I finally moved to New York, the Motherland, it was more of the same. “Yo, not for nothing, you”re from Alabama. Take that Yankee hat off” (insert clich? New York accent). But I could always take comfort in my childhood obsession. I could always brush off the cynics because Don Mattingly was a Yankee and therefore I was a Yankee. And so I began my lonely journey into professional sports.
But perhaps that”s the upside of today”s seemingly over-saturated sports media coverage. I can follow the storylines and decide who to pull for accordingly even without a geographical kinship. When LeBron James and Chris Bosh joined Dwyane Wade in Miami, everyone outside of Florida resented the way they tried to cheat the system. True basketball fans denounced the Heat”s arrogant prediction of multiple championships and the seemingly self-proclaimed “dynasty” tag.
And although I don”t know Kevin Durant of the Oklahoma Thunder personally, I could celebrate his humble approach to the game and pull for him as he took on the Big Three of the Heat. I can cheer for the Broncos now because I really like Peyton Manning and the way he”s carried himself, both on and off the field. For me, the fan without a team to call my own, the organization and the players who play for them are inseparable, even in the age of free-agency and multi-million dollar contracts.
So even if I couldn”t fully throw my support behind the LA Kings as they won their first-ever Stanley Cup, I could certainly watch with delight as the LAPD braced themselves in full riot gear around the Staples Center because I am a fan. Not necessarily of the Kings or of the Devils, but of sports and the people who play them.
Editor”s note: Peyton Clarkson, a native of Mobile, Ala., received his BFA from Auburn University. He has been writing and performing stand-up comedy across the country since 2003. Follow him on Twitter @peytonclarkson or contact him directly at peytonclarkson@yahoo.com or www.peytonclarkson.com
