If you are a "Die Hard Fan" you are probably a "Huge Douchebag"

For the majority of my day I listen to sports talk radio. Now, while I'm aware that that has the potential to make me a douchebag of the talk radio listening variety, it does give me a window into the psyche of the super fan; more specifically the fan who's very existance is so profoundly intertwined with the success and failure of his favorite team that his life and mood are affected by its ebbs and flows. This is almost always accompanied by the grand delusion that the players and management (specifically management) give two shits about what said fan thinks and that they will acquiesce to demands on play calling, personnel decisions and general organizational philosophy.

A perfect example is one that I am listening to as I write this. This particular caller phoned in to maintain that he thinks he had something to do with the Phillies' acquisition of Raul Ibanez. His reasoning is that after the Phillies won the World Series and Ruben Amaro Jr was named the GM, "I shot him off an email to say congratulations and that I have an idea for a replacement for Pat Burrell. You know, I never heard back from him or anything but I'm sure he got the e-mail." Guh. He goes on to detail the stats that he included in the email and his reasoning (while sound) why Ibanez would be a valuable player with potential to become an important part of the Phillies club. The fact that he was right aside, let's discuss the delusion of this particular fan.

He believes he has the ear of the general manager of a Major League Baseball franchise. More specifically, a World Series Champion Major League Baseball franchise. (If we were talking about Nationals former GM Jim Bowden or current GM Mike Rizzo maybe you could make an argument that they'll let fans make decisions.) I can understand an e-mail sent in congratulations. I get that. It's a nice gesture. But really, who does this tool think he is that his scouting report is something novel or so enlightening that a GM might go "My god! He's right! Someone get Seattle on the phone!" I can just picture the intern who filters this type of shit out of Amaro's inbox making a dismissive wanking motion as he rolled his eyes and hit delete.

It would be humorous if the caller was making this assertion in a sarcastic or obviously joking manner. He. Was. Not. I give the two hosts who fielded the call a considerable amount of credit for being able to stifle what I'm guessing was a painful urge to call him a retard and hang up on him. Of course this is why they are successful media personalities and I make fun of people on the internet.

Finally, this particular fan was not making this assertion after 5 beers at happy hour with his buddies. He called the premiere (at least until 950 ESPN takes them over in the ratings like they did from 3p-7p. Missanelli is the man.) sports talk radio station in Philadelphia to spout this idiocy. Who in their right mind sits in their office and thinks, "You know I should really call WIP. The Cuz and The Prof need to know who to thank about this whole Ibanez situation." You, sir, are a douchebag.

I consider myself a sports fan. I love the Phillies and Eagles, and have for my whole life. I catch as many games as I can and my favorite summer Saturdays are usually the ones I spend at Citizen's Bank Park. I get upset when the teams play poorly. I curse when management and ownership make boneheaded personnel decisions (I'm looking at you Reid and Banner.) But it never ruins my day. I don't get hung up on it for longer than 10 seconds and I surely don't think that if I could just get a sit down with some real decision makers, that I could make them see the light. The light of course being the amateur opinion of a guy who builds computers for a living and has never run a little league team let alone a professional franchise. This wild obsession that grips too many sports fans is not only idiotic, but it's not healthy. Dude, focus on things in your life that are more important and that you can actually have a tangible effect on.

Let's be honest. You are not the sixth, tenth or twelfth man. You are, as Bill Maher astutely pointed out, a "machine for turning beer into piss." Drinking dos Equis will not make you the most interesting man in the world. If you are going to drink 20 beers it doesn't matter than Coors Lite has less calories. Drinking Miller Lite will not make women in bikinis flock to you. You will never be in charge of making decisions for a professional sports franchise. And the professionals dedicated to running these franchises resent your amateur bravado. In related news: the sky is blue and water is wet.