Furthermore, because the projection systems made by all the stat nerds have tended to not like the Royals so much, especially this year, it’s already placing a massive chip on everyone's shoulder even though they should just be basking in that sweet championship afterglow. Thanks to the stadium being horrible, you can always get tickets to a game (it seats 35k, and averages about 21k a game). They're also stuck in the oft-difficult position of trying to reconcile Dave Stewart's front-office moves, like mortgaging the entire future of the team to acquire world-beater and lockdown ace... , who'll spend at least half of the game trying to convince you that living in any town named "Laguna" is actually fancier than LA proper. Deep down they all know "Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim" is the dumbest shit ever, but none of them will actually admit it."They don't appreciate our defense and bullpen" they'll scream while directing your eyes at the latest Joe Posnanski column with a BBQ sauce-stained chubby finger, burnt-end remnants still stuck between their teeth. In conclusion, the fans are downright tolerable as long as no one brings up D-Backs, more like D-Bags, amirite? On some level it isn't the Nats' fault -- DC is the most transient of towns and the team is still in its relative infancy, so it isn't fair to expect the generations-deep fandom some cities enjoy.Now there’s Target Field, which is generally pretty nice but ultimately uninteresting -- hey, another good metaphor for Twins fans! He loves the Tampa Bay Lightning, has gross orange Bucs gear, weirdly tan arms, and that generally unpredictable disposition of a true Floridian.
The only time anyone in Miami even realized you had a baseball team was around mid-September of 19, but even then by the next summer attendance had returned to its rightful spot at the bottom of baseball.
We get it; Miami's an event town and until one of the Kardashians is sitting behind home plate the Marlins will still be about as relevant as middle-school softball.
The fans are there to kind of watch a game, I guess, but mostly to get some sun (stop being so infuriatingly sunny, Denver), drink some beers, smoke grass, and talk about Dante Bichette. Whether or not he thinks the Broncos will make the playoffs this year with no proven quarterback. And the smart bet, for him, and the average person sitting in the Rockpile, is hell no.
Going to a game at Coors Field is like going to a game at a very large minor-league ballpark. That 1995 season when he almost had the Triple Crown.
Twins fans are a model of the on-the-surface Midwestern affability mixed with deeply buried resentments that permeates so much of the local culture, except in this case, instead of a once-beautiful marriage now gone cold and loveless between two Swedish Lutherans, it's a cold and distant union with Joe Mauer and the $1.5 billion (estimated) left on his contract.
At least with the Metrodome it felt like the fanbase had a little something to pin its collective identity to -- granted that "something" involved a cold and unfeeling dome replete with cheering for bad turf bounces and balls lost in the lights, but it was something!
Though the glory days of Jonny Wilkinson are long gone, it still took a stunning performance from Saracens last October – maybe their best of an awesome season – to derail an unbeaten home record in Europe's top tier.
Until the NFL took over one concussion at a time, baseball reigned as America's national pastime. If you take a look at the state of American culture, one might argue that the REAL pastime is pissing each other off, and MAN are baseball fans good at that! An entire stadium filled with parents who grew up outside of Philadelphia but moved to El Cajon for work, looking to keep their elementary-aged sons occupied for three to four hours until they’re legally allowed to make them sleep, plus 20-ish guys who've remained lifelong Padres fans because they personally met Tony Gwynn, and retirees who literally have nothing better to do.
Camden Yards is a great place to watch a game, the Orioles are kind of good, but not really so good that it sparks any sort of spike in confidence, and everyone is so focused on making sure their containers of Old Bay are still safely tucked away in their cargo short pockets filled with crabs that you can have a downright pleasant time at an O's game as a visiting fan. Things were so dark for so long for Pirates fans, when conversations around a half-empty PNC Park included such riveting subjects as "at least we have Jason Bay, so that's... " and "this Aramis Ramirez trade won't come back to hurt us will it? It definitely will." But back-to-back (unfortunately heartbreaking) wild-card appearances and a legitimately fun, well-run team have brought things back to life, even if fans still have their guard up to the point where key regular-season series will still have tickets remaining (even with one of baseball’s sneaky-great stadium experiences).