11 Characteristics of a Losing Fan Base
It was Easter Sunday. Since the rest of my family was out of town, my dad and I decided to go watch a Mariners game at Safeco Field. Unfortunately, we were treated to an ugly and excruciating experience, however, it was rewarding in the end. I’ll elaborate. But, there were a few things I noticed about the fans and the atmosphere that indicate losing baseball. Eleven exactly.
The first negative aspect of a losing franchise was made apparent as my Dad and I walked up to the park ticketless looking to find cheap and decent seats. The fact that we could walk up to a stadium with no tickets and fully expect that we could find tickets at a fair price is the first characteristic of losing fan base.
Before crossing Dave Niehaus Way, we encountered a scalper and instead of brushing him off like my dad usually does, he changed his mind and talked to the him. The scalper offered us $40 tickets in section 124 right behind the Mariners’ dugout. After negotiating, his “final offer” was $35 a ticket. My dad then used his ultimate bargaining ploy: “Can’t we just walk down and sit in these seats anyway?” he asked. The scalper responded, “Man, everybody asks me that, but you can’t do that with these seats.” The second characteristic of a losing fan base is that fans assume that because their team sucks and everyone says no one is going to the games, that they can sneak into expensive seats by paying for cheap ones. And they try it.
Before entering the stadium, I bought a program outside the gates, “The Grand Salami." The Grand Salami is not the official Mariner program, and that became evident as I read about the team in the program. Miguel Olivo was called one of the worst Mariners of all-time and Jack Wilson was called Hackin’ Jack for his impatience at the plate. The program was critical of the organization and took a shot at team president Howard Lincoln for the Olivo signing. Before I even sat in my seat, the third characteristic of a losing fan base became apparent: Even the biggest fans: those who write about the team -- are harshly critical of the team and their front office decisions.
After walking less than halfway across the stadium to our seats, I sat down in an empty row. I checked the time on my phone, it was 12:45 p.m, only 15 minutes before first pitch. There was not a full row in the entire park. Why do I feel awkwardly early by getting to my seat only 15 minutes before the game was supposed to start? Characteristic number four of losing fan base is that no one shows up early to the games. No one watches batting practice, because the players aren’t good enough to make it exciting, and there are not any stars not named Ichiro to attract an audience. It took until the end of the first inning for my section to feel full. And even then, the gaps in other sections were noticeable.
During the first inning, Doug Fister struggled, but got out of the inning by striking out Mark Ellis. The scoreboard flashed a backwards K. After, the woman next to me asked her husband what the backwards K meant. The man sitting in the season ticket holder section had no idea. His wife resorted to asking me what it meant. As I was answering her, I picked up on the fifth characteristic of a losing fan base: the fans are not diehards, they are merely there to enjoy a ballpark experience. How much baseball does the guy at the end of the row have to watch to know what a backwards K means?
As the game continued, I noticed a few more things about Mariners fans. First, 33 year-old Milton Bradley from Harbor City, California received a softer ovation than 7 year-old Ryker from Selah, Washington. After Bradley was in a big spot in the fifth inning and worked the count before grounding out, Ryker ran in from center field in between innings and stole second base. Clearly, the second situation is more important. Characteristic number six: the fans care less about the game than the overall experience. Of course, a cute little kid running on the field is more interesting than a situation with runners in scoring position and two outs.
In the sixth inning, every fan's favorite part of the Safeco experience occurred: the hydro race. As always, I rooted hard for the green boat, while my dad pulled for the Oh Boy! Oberto red boat. As the red boat surged to the front of the pack for its eighth win of the season, my dad let out an excited cheer with an accompanying fist pump. This was the most excited I saw him all day. My dad is a pure baseball fan, but the Mariners gave him nothing to cheer for all day. Characteristic number seven is that the fans are justified in not getting as excited about the game as opposed to the in-game entertainment.
Unfortunately, in the seventh inning the Mariners lack of run support caught up to the and their poor defense caused Aaron Laffey to give up two runs. At the end of the inning, the guy at the end of row 15 said: “Well, we should’ve kept Fister in.” No, idiot! Fister had thrown 109 pitches! Aaron Laffey on the other hand, had an ERA under 1.00 coming in, and had been reliable in middle to long relief. No way does Eric Wedge leave Fister hanging out to dry like that. Characteristic number eight: fans of a losing franchise say idiotic things to try and explain their suffering.
As the game wound down, and the Mariners got one run out of a second and third, nobody out situation, the stadium was dead. When Jamey Wright and Brandon League tried their hardest to shut down the A’s in the ninth, the fans gave them no support. The “Noise” prompts being put on the centerfield scoreboard were failing. The fans would roar for ten seconds, and then by the time the pitch came across the plate, it was silent again. Characteristic nine of a fan base of a crappy team: no hope, and therefore no noise.
Characteristic number ten is one all losing fan bases grapple with: the mass exodus. After the A’s got runs four and five in the ninth as a groundball skipped past the glove of Chone Figgins at third, Mariners fans knew it was over. How many times have the Mariners scored three runs in an inning this year? As such, fans flowed towards the exits. I hate leaving early. If you paid money for tickets, you deserve nine innings.
Heading into the ninth, hope was about as high as Chone Figgins' batting average. Characteristic eleven became apparent when Jack Wilson came up to bat in the bottom of the ninth. A guy sitting one section over began yelling at the Mariners hitters. “Hey Jack, we need three, hit a field goal!” After Wilson whiffed, Ryan Langerhans stepped in. The man became more cynical and yelled, “Hey Ryan, we need seven, hit a touchdown!” My dad and I laughed about the absurdity of the guy’s comments, but I realized something important about our fan base. To take our minds off our terrible baseball team, we try and remind ourselves of another part of our sports realm that actually holds some cautious optimism. This guy was so down about the Mariners, he was making Seahawks jokes to lighten the mood.
Despite these losing characteristics, I have come to a brighter conclusion. During this grim economic and political time, our baseball team, if nothing else, gives us something else to complain about. Moreover, the Mariners give hope to every person who walks through Safeco Field's gates. At the Mariners game on Sunday, the Mariners didn’t give me much to cheer about. But when Ichiro motored over to second base, and the M’s manufactured a first inning run, I believed in the Mariners, and thought for one moment that my team could beat anybody. This feeling does not characterize a losing fan base. However, we are a winning fan base with a losing team to cheer for.
So why are all these negative things present during a home game? Because we hate losing. Give Mariners fans a pennant race, and there won’t be an empty seat in the ballpark. Anytime there is any glimmer of victory, any chance to return to the success of the ’95 slide or the 116 in 2001, we pounce on it, and celebrate like crazy. So even though all of these bad things characterize us as fans, we aren’t bad fans, we just love winning.
