Yesterday morning on my commute in to work, this guy gets on the train at Amityville and starts ranting about the New York Yankees pitcher, Joba Chamberlain. He's no stranger to me. I see him everyday and he usually talks sports with his riding buddy from Babylon. But for this ride, he put his vitriol in high gear and opened up loudly over the fact that the Yankees manager, Joe Girardi, pulled Joba from his first major league start after only 2 and a third innings. "How could he do that?" asked our intrepid man from Amityville. "He gave up two runs and only threw 62 pitches."
If you live in New York and follow sports, it's very difficult to avoid the Joba Chamberlain saga. Let me spare you the gory details -- he came to the Yankees in August 2007 with lots of high-praise and promise. He broke in as a reliever and was promoted to a starter. His claim to fame in the pros is being on the mound in Cleveland during Game 2 of last October's American League Division when he was attacked by a swarm if bugs called midges . Big deal, right?
What struck me about the whole scene was not the content of his discussion, but visceral disgust in his voice over what transpired. This guy was livid, blathering on to the guy from Babylon with phrases like:
"I can't believe this."
"This is outrageous."
"How could Girardi do that to him."
This went on for a good 15 minutes, within which he managed to work in a smattering of "In the old days, pitchers would throw doubleheaders..." statements, as if there was some lesson to be drawn from this nostalga.
Okay, dude, we get it.
What I wanted to know then and now is why all the hulabaloo? What vested interest does this guy have in the New York Yankees that compels him to tell everyone and his mother about his disgust with Joba being pulled from the game?
I never asked him these questions, but yet, there I was expecting the answer to reveal itself. From the volume of his voice, the only logical reason I can deduce from his tirade was that he is passionate about his team. I guess that's why we call them fans.
But the question I wanted to ask him, but didn't was, who gives a flying fuck?
He was reading the newspaper you see to the left, which, like the other printed rags in New York and around the country rightfully blared on its front page the news of Obama's historic victory as the Democratic Party's presidential nominee. I wondered why he didn't flip to the front cover of his copy of The News and talk about that. Given what's at stake in this election, you would think that the Obama-McCain match up is much more important than the fate of a rookie pitcher.
Boy was I wrong.
It dawned on me at that this is yet another example of how little politics is discussed in public circles. Yeah. We go at it here in blogosphere, and the discussion generated by our QWERTY keyboards is quite lively. But raise the point on the train or in some other public setting and you are likely to be branded a social pariah, a trouble maker, or a rabble rouser.
Don't get me wrong here. I couldn't tell this guy apart from Adam, if not for his rant on Joba. For all I know, he could be the nicest, kindest and most politically-active Obama supporter in the world. You wouldn't know it from the way he was dressed. He had a green polo shirt with a PGA Tournament emblem, complimented by a pair of tan khakis and soft leather uppers with the Dockers® logo. But given the fact that my wardrobe choice that morning was not that far off from his, it's a fathomable possibility.
Like me, he appears to be a person who is gainfully employed in a corporate job, a homeowner, husband, and father to great kids. He's probably someone who is feeling the pinch of the rising costs of goods and services, including $4.15 we pay for regular unleaded gasoline in Suffolk County.
You would think that he would rather discuss Obama (or McCain) because we're sinking in the same boat; that he would want to turn over his newspaper and smile (or rant) at the man pictured on the front page because finally, a viable candidate has emerged who is committed to taking on and reversing the destructive policies of current sitting administration. Finally, we have someone who speaks for those of us who are not in the top 1% (or even 20%) of income or accumulated wealth. Finally.
In my mind, I'm screaming, "SAY SOMETHING ABOUT OBAMA!"
But not my man from Amityville. Yesterday, it was all about Joba. With his newspaper open, he slapped at the picture of Joe Girardi, lamenting the fact that the Yankees let Joe Torre go. "I'm so disgusted," I heard him say. That's when I checked out.
But just as I was about to bury my head back into the CISSP study guide I was reading, I heard his buddy from Babylon ask him about how Hideki Matsui did that night.
Amityville: He went two-for-four with an RBI.
Babylon: Awesome. I have him on my fantasy team.
And there you have it. These two guys talk about sports non-stop because it's a concept that they can wrap their heads around. I'm not saying that these guys are dumb, but when you contrast the sports of politics and baseball, the differences are quite stark.
Politics is a sport that has real consequences to you and me. The rules are, at best, difficult to understand, and more often than not they engender a sense of hopelessness because for lots of people, like my man from Amityville, don't have the time and or the energy to make the leap between an issue like the Iraqi occupation and their personal lives. It's too much work.
Baseball is different. The rules are well-defined and there is always a definitive outcome with little or no personal ramification. It's easy to get mad or happily giddy about what's happening on the field of play because it's just play. Once the game is over you either head back home or turn off your television, momentarily happy or sad over the outcome. There are no long-term effects once the game is over.
As I was walking off the train at Penn Station, I happened to catch this Non-Sequitur cartoon in the newspaper left behind by the guy from Babylon, which sums up my man from Amityville's political apathy.
David Wiley Miller, you are a genius.
