The Home Team

Most of us are born to our allegiances. Especiallywalked the length of the field picking and chucking
for the home team. Our fathers taking us to ourrocks that clanged off the empty aluminum
first baseball game, the perfectly manicured greenbleachers. Then stood toe to toe and knocked
grass and white on white of the baselines sothe crap outta each other for hours or until it got
precisely laid out before us as giants warmed uptoo dark to play or we ran out of players. I have
under the brilliant summer sun. From then toplayed baseball on fields glistening with broken
eternity that team was mine. It binds us to aglass and basketball on courts littered with
town a city, an era, it becomes who we are, ithypodermic needles in the slums of Philadelphia
defines us in ways beyond rational explanation.and New York and San Juan. Ive kicked around
We wear our loyalty in game jerseys with oursoccer balls in the hot sands of the Middle East
heros name emblazoned on the back, we paintwith guys that played in the World Cup from
our faces our teams colors, we name our childrenHolland. I sat, in a freezing car, with four friends in
after our favorite players. Were crazy, crazy forMinneapolis listening to the U.S.A. beat Russia in the
our team.80 Olympics, on the radio because we forgot to
Win or lose, celebrate or mourn we love ourpay the electric bill. Ive stood in race control at
team. Monday aint blue if your team won onthe 2000 Daytona 500 flashing hand signals to the
Sunday. But we soon get over it if they dont,broadcast crews who couldnt understand why the
because there is always next week, next year orrace director had yellow flagged the race toward
if you are a Cub fan, the next millennia. The bestthe end of the race as 200,000 fans screamed in
part of sport is that there always is next year, aanger or joy as their favorite got robbed or
do over of sorts. One that life doesnt provide uscaught a break. Ive watched Superbowls, World
with, but does for our team. Thats what keepsSeries games and World Cup matches in bars
us coming back for more. One more chance atfrom Bangkok to Bangor. I have partied with the
redemption . One more chance to be the best. Togreat and not so great, the famous and the
be champions. Everyone loves a winner, but theinfamous. I have been fortunate to have traveled
true fan, one born of the loyalty of personalthe world and it is the passion of sport that has
connection, loves his team no matter what. Therebroken down language and cultural barriers along
is no band wagon to jump on or off of. They arethe way.
your team through thick and thin, win or lose.If there is one thing men are more passionate
I come from a time and place were loyalty wasabout than religion or politics or women for that
everything. At work and at play. The team wasmatter, it is sport, especially the home team. Life
everything. Whether it was your sandlot buddieslong friendships born of the love of sport are
or the guys on the line at the assembly plant orformed out of those passions. The internet and
steel mill, it was your world, it was who youforums like The Sports Outlaw have given us a
were, it was your identity. I have lived, workedplace to show our loyalty and passion to the
and played all over the world and there is onewhole world and to form more life long
constant that bonds males and it is sport. I havefriendships.
played sandlot football in the shadow of hulkingGive me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,
rusted steel mills belching smoke and ash thatbecause Im going toroot root root for the home
coated the snow black. Stood shoulder toteam.
shoulder with players from the other team as we