Twin Peeks

Dave Paisley

A few weeks ago, I wrote an article on fan etiquette for the nineties. After some particularly bad experiences with boorish fans at spring training I was moved to come up with a top ten list of boorish fan behavior.

Well, it struck a chord with some of you out there, and prompted you to share some of your experiences. One fan in particular had some very definite problems at her home town park.

Karla writes:

Dave- great list!  I'm wondering if the posse is a traveling one; there's a particularly annoying woman plaguing fans at the Metrodome (as if it isn't annoying enough just being in that atrocity of architecture -- and I won't even mention the team.)

Well, I've been to the Metrodome, and it amazes me that such a monstrosity could spawn two World Series Champion teams. On the other hand, that positive airflow helps get you out of the building a little quicker -- that's got to help on those awful "Twins sucked again" days...
 
Karla continues:

I think her take on fan etiquette should get an honorable mention. Here's her method:

Consume seven (7) Miller Lites (not Bud Light; you should have a more discriminating palate!)

Well, I hate to tell you this, Karla, but neither Bud Light nor Miller Lite are technically beer. Nor are any products from those "macro-breweries". When I think of Budweiser, I think of those Clydesdales. And when I think of the Clydesdales, I wonder if all they are used for is pulling the beer carts. Perhaps Anheuser Busch is really into recycling, if you get my drift.

But I digress. Back to Karla:

Then proceed to talk to everyone around you as if there were nothing else to do there.

This is a well known tactic of the boorish nineties fan. Next thing you know, they've started the wave while the opposing team is at bat, and before you know it, your team is down seven runs. Happens every time.

And she continues:

Repeatedly refer to Kenny Lofton as Kenny Loggins.

Another common mistake. It can also take the form of mistaking Ken Griffey Junior for Kevin Costner, Barry Bonds for Barry White and Greg Maddux for a history professor. Oh, wait, scratch that last one. Everybody mistakes Greg Maddux for a history professor.

And then we get to:

Repeatedly put up bunny ears in front of the binoculars of the people behind you.

Now we're getting down to the heart of the matter. I hadn't heard of this tactic -- it must be peculiar to the wilds of Minneapolis-St. Paul, and it seems particularly brutal. There's nothing worse than trying to focus in on Brad Radke's delivery, only to have your view obscured by some mutant Energizer bunny parts.

And here's where we get to the real crux of the matter:

Offer to bare your breasts for said binoculars.

Now Karla, I hate to say this, but from your average male fan's perspective, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. Of course, a lot depends on the quality of the, er, goods in question. If this is Elle McPherson, Claudia Schiffer, the Doritos girl or Tyra Banks then there is no problem whatsoever. If, however, it's Rosie O'Donnell, Roseanne Barr, Judge Judy or Ru Paul, then I'm going to have to call foul on the proceedings. But even then, there's no accounting for taste, so I can't even categorically rule out the last bunch.

And it does give a whole new meaning to the phrase, "So, does anyone want to see the Twins tonight?"

You seem to have some adventurous gals out there in Twin-land. (Does anyone think this might spice up ticket sales at the Metrodome?)

Karla finally nears the end of her tale:

Finally, try to play matchmaker between the drunk Iowa farmboys screaming "Yeeeaaahhhh!" every time a Twins' batter takes a ball and the women in obvious pain sitting next to them.

Well, obviously the farm boys are big fans of On Base Percentage, so I can't really fault them there. And, as I said before, if they've also taken up the whole breasts/binocular deal, I can't blame them either. However, if they've been drinking Miller Lite in large quantities, then we may have, as our law enforcement types might say, a situation developing.

Karla ends with:

If you haven't guessed, I was one of those women. Please send help.

Ouch! You have my sympathies. Please, someone get this woman an ambulance. Or at least a can of Mace. What a sorry tale, indeed.

So there you have it, strikethree fans. This is what happens when bad fans go really bad. I'd also like to point out the harmful effects of drinking Miller Lite. If you must drink, please do so responsibly.

Buy Redhook.

about the author

Dave Paisley's goods in question fall into the latter category, if you know what we're saying, and we think you do. Ask him for pics anyway at drdjp@strikethree.com