I’m a Washingtonian. This is, all in all, a wonderful thing, except that for many years it denied me the pleasure of a home baseball team. As a child, this meant adopting the nearby Baltimore Orioles. And for a time, this relationship served me well. But then, when puberty and political awareness hit, I began to feel less than comfortable with the team. In part, my alienation was cultural. Baltimore plays “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” during the 7th inning stretch. At that moment, I wasn’t clear on my belief in God, but I was certain about the fact that I’m no country boy. Then, team owner Peter Angelos began to sacrifice the soul of the club. Namely, he bought a goon named Albert Belle to the team. This purchase caused my entire world view to explode. How could I argue the Orioles’ moral superiority when they had Belle? I couldn’t. That year marked the beginning of my long divorce from Baltimore. The pace of our separation has accelerated rapidly with the arrival of the entirely loveable Washington Nationals. To establish our identity as Nats fans, we have had to agressively distance ourselves from our neighboring fans. More to the point, we need to despise them and foment a rivalry with them. Angelos has stirred this pot by conspiring to keep the Nationals off television. (A long story that I won’t get into here.)
In other words, I take some pleasure in watching the Rafael Palmero crisis unfold. I hope that it redounds against the Orioles, and I hope that the Nats sweep the Birds next year in interleague play. Amen.
posted by Frank.
The Dish 