I Might be Done....

I don’t know, but in this moment, I may be "done" as a Reds fan. Maybe I have this luxury because although I’ve been a Reds fan since 1970, I’ve never lived anywhere remotely close to Cincinnati, Ohio (though I’ve been easily able to spell it since then.) At age 7 growing up in Riverton, Wyoming I saw Johnny Bench on the cover of my father’s copy of Sports Illustrated. As a family, we liked sports, my dad was an old baseball player and track coach, so the values system was there.

My dad milked cows in the 1930’s listening to St. Louis Cardinals games in a Wyoming barn. The Gashouse Gang was his hook and besides, St. Louis was the most western team in America. But they kinda sucked compared to the Reds in the early 70’s. It’s not as if there was a "local" favorite. The Kansas City Royals were the nearest franchise, over 900 road miles away. That doesn’t exactly get your provincial juices flowing. So Big Red Machine it was. I insisted on playing catcher in my first T-Ball game the next summer so I could be like Johnny, though my baseball future eventually lay in shortstop and pitcher, peaking during a phenomenal 15-year-old Babe Ruth season where I only gave up ONE earned run and really thought I belonged in Sports Illustrated’s "Faces in the Crowd." (if you know it, you know it…) My dad and I flew to Cincinnati to see the Reds and eat Skyline Chili and ride the coasters at King’s Island a few times. It was glorious. On the field for me it all ended after one mediocre season as a mainly relief pitcher at DIII University of Rochester, where I learned to juggle in the bullpen in the spring of 1982, a long way from Wyoming.

But hey, as a Reds fan in the 70’s life was pretty good. It had cachet, and you thought it would last forever. We all know it didn’t. I mean, 1990 was amazing, a kind of rebirth, though brief, in the fun there was in that amazing season. You know the rest, and to be honest, my general disinterest, living "out of the market" and all, settled in for quite awhile until the arrival of Joey Votto. Somehow I instantly connected with him. He just seemed like my kind of ballplayer, and there he was, in the uniform of my favorite team. Throughout his career I paid a lot more attention to the Reds than I had during the years previous. I mean, his approach on the field was so remarkable, and his behaviors (sometimes bad), were really fun. Cleaning cleats on home Sundays. Taunting opposing fans. Learning Spanish so he could communicate with his teammates, playing chess tournaments… such an interesting guy. And a Lakers fan! (Big for me, probably not for most Reds fans) And he grew up in Toronto, in the same city as my grandfather.

But I ramble…. The Reds lost a couple of really stupid games this week that they really shouldn’t have. And Joey officially retired. And Castellini made his "Where you gonna go?" remark last year, and it’s all just piling up. If I lived in the Cincinnati area I might encounter cultural cues to stick with my team (at age 61 after over 50 years of fandom), but that never happens here in Wyoming. So maybe I’ll just let go, continue following the generally pathetic but sometimes surprising Wyoming Cowboys and crawl back into the womb. At this point I feel like a Cubs fan and I hate it. I hate it. I always say, "I understand if you’re a Cubs fan and you’re from the Chicago area. It’s your provincial course and yoke. But why on earth would you be a Cubs fan if you’re not from there? It’s one thing to love an underdog, but why choose a loser?" For me, is being a Reds fan abroad now like that? Maybe.

And yet, I’ll probably check the box score tomorrow. Or at least next week.