Miles's blog

A column in the Times yesterday epitomizes for me the problems with modern American sports fans.  This sportswriter took his kids to the Mets game where Johann Santana threw the first no-hitter in Mets history.  Even though his kids are 10 and 7, he said they did not know what a no-hitter was, why it was important, or that one was happening.  I guarantee you my daughter by age 10 knew well what a no-hitter was.  He said he spent three innings standing in line for the Shake Shack which makes me think he really didn’t go there to watch the game.  And most infuriating he was proud to have gone because now he and his kids can say they were there.  He seemed very pleased about what watching a no-hitter did for his ego and image, and he seemed completely unconcerned about Santana’s achievement or the drama of watching it unfold.  He said that without an announcer to tell him what he was seeing, like he would have on tv, he didn’t even realize he was watching a no-hitter until the seventh inning. 

This guy is a sportswriter?  This demonstrates how low sportwriting has sunk.  I doubt Red Smith or Jim Murray or Heywood Hale Broun would ever have written this crap which belongs more in the acrid cesspool which constitutes the blogosphere than the front page of the New York Times sports section.  I am disgusted.  

This guy apparently appreciates nothing about the game of baseball.  Watching a no-hitter is extremely dramatic and this one highlighted by the fact that no New York Met had done so in the 50 years the team had been in existence.  Santana missed all of last season with an arm injury and was not supposed to pitch too deep into a game.  So anyone with even passing knowledge of the Mets should have been fully swept up in the moment, and not wondering how long it would take to supply his children with extremely fattening and unhealthy treats at a time when they probably should have been getting ready for bed.  (The game started at 7, ended around 10.)

But now he gets to crow that he was there for Santana's no hitter.  The joy of this kind of self-promotion is to express how you got to enjoy one of the greatest moments in New York baseball history, how you hung on every pitch while the drama grew and the fans sensed they were witnesses to something special. All he can do is pull out his ticket stub (which he was so proud of himself for not giving away) and pound his chest.  I guess he did watch the ninth inning, which for someone who fails to appreciate the ebb and flow of a ballgame and the wonder of watching a pitcher spin a masterpiece, is enough.  

Meg and I watched Santana's previous outing where he allowed only three hits.  Unlike this joker, I sat in my seat the entire time, and enjoyed watching Santana put on a pitching clinic.  I saw no no-hitter, but I reveled in the experience.  (Meg did miss some time standing in line for Italian Ice, including one for me.  Apparently long lines and slow service are a problem at Citi Field.)  I wonder how much this guy and his kids will remember.  I bet it will be more milk shake than history.