Scottsdale, Ariz. – I was at a loss. This was a moment I had eagerly anticipated, but when it arrived, I faced a unique dilemma, a conflict unlike any other when attending a game for pleasure.
For the first time in memory, I had absolutely no idea which team I was rooting for.
On one side of the diamond, there stood my hometown nine, the San Francisco Giants. This was the team of my childhood, the first team of any sport of which I was a true fan.
On the other side of the lines, there was Team USA. The Dream Team of American baseball, so to speak. The best, or most of the best, that our country has to offer.
And so you see my predicament.
Sitting in the bleachers at Scottsdale Stadium for Sunday’s exhibition, I found myself completely at odds. Should I root on the big league team I have followed the most closely over the years at the expense of my country’s national team? Or would it be better to side with the U.S. squad, foregoing my allegiance to a professional team in lieu of American pride?
From one standpoint, what a wonderful problem to have. Everybody wins. But, from another, what frustration.
In recent weeks, even months, I had been yearning for the opportunity to watch a game on my own time. Purely for pleasure. No cell phone calls from my boss as I’m frantically charting the game. No writing the ‘gamer’ in my head as the action unfolds. And, above all, no looming deadline.
Yes, I would finally be able to lose myself in the game. To soak up the atmosphere without needing to chronicle it. To unabashedly cheer for my team. To be a fan.
But come first pitch, I was hopelessly conflicted. I was a fan, all right. But of both teams! Equally!
I’m sure you’ve seen those caps that are split right down the middle: Half Giants, half A’s. Hate ’em. MAKE UP YOUR MIND, I would think. Or don’t wear a cap. If you attend a game as a fan, root for your team, whichever one it may be. Or just enjoy the experience of the game if you really don’t care either way. But none of this indecisiveness. GET OFF THE FENCE.
I never thought that I would find myself in limbo. I’m always a fan. And I never divide my loyalties. While I can absolutely enjoy watching multiple teams in the same sport, I can only have true passion for one. Or so I thought.
From the moment the inaugural World Baseball Classic was announced, I was a true proponent. An elite-level international tournament of one of the jewels in the sporting world? As has been stated in this space, such an event was long overdue. Matching the game’s best from our nation against the premier Latin and Asian players in a World Cup-style competition? A tantalizing thought.
Adding to the allure of the WBC was my belief that this would not simply be a cakewalk for the Americans. Having witnessed the incredible feats of foreign-born players my entire life–Fernando Valenzuela, Pedro Martinez and Albert Pujols, to name a few–I fully expect a hotly-contested tournament, a fortnight loaded with subplots and intrigue.
Thus, the opportunity to glimpse our national team assembled in a game setting for the first time was simply too good to be true. With the U.S. set to open WBC play against Mexico in a matter of days, I was one of many at Sunday’s exhibition eager to see how the star-studded roster would mesh.
But at the same time, this spring is a critical time for the Giants. Facing perhaps its last chance to win a World Series in the Bonds Era, San Francisco needs every opportunity to forge the chemistry and cohesion on and off the field that is so essential to an October push. Plus, a sneak peak at what the local boys have to offer this year in the picturesque confines of their spring home has been an annual pilgrimage. Spring Training or not, they’re the Giants and they matter.
As the lineups were announced, I could tell I wasn’t the only confused soul in the house. U.S. players and Giants alike, everyone received plenty of applause. The biggest roar went up for Roger Clemens, the Americans’ starting pitcher and surefire Hall of Famer, but it well could have been for Barry Bonds had he been in attendance.
When Team USA’s Johnny Damon leaned in for Giants starter Matt Morris’ first pitch of the afternoon, no one knew quite what to do. Well, cheer of course. But for whom?
And so it went throughout the afternoon. Clemens hardly broke a sweat in his two near-perfect innings of work to the crowd’s delight, but when new Giant Steve Finley jumped all over a Clemens’ offering for a second-inning double to right, the fans roared their approval.
Chipper Jones’ two-run homer in the third got everyone out of their seats, but the patrons were just as thrilled when San Francisco pieced together a seventh-inning rally to knot the game at 7.
There were two constants as far as fan reaction was concerned.
First, the obnoxious Boston fan has now firmly taken the place of the over-the-top Yankee rooter of recent years. The Bosox army was out in full force in Scottsdale, even though its team trains in Florida, and made its presence abundantly known, especially whenever one of the Yankees stepped to the plate.
The rest of us respect how passionate you are about your team, Red Sox fans. We understand that it’s a shot to your egos to see Damon and Derek Jeter atop Team USA’s lineup, with Alex Rodriguez entering the game in the fifth as a part of the Americans’ ridiculously-talented second unit. And we can tell just how much you detest the boys from the Bronx–we could hear it all afternoon. But if A-Rod and his one-time combatant Jason Varitek can put aside their differences to join forces to do battle against the Dominicans and the Cubans, then put a sock in it. At least until the Classic is finished.
And second, Randy Winn could do no wrong. The Bay Area native and San Francisco’s Opening Day center fielder received cheers throughout the afternoon as the Giants lone representative on Team USA. Winn was in the middle of the national team’s six-run third, drawing a walk from Morris and later scoring. His routine defensive plays in right field received far more applause than such plays normally would, a sure indication that the packed grandstand was looking for something, anything to break its awkward silence. Even walking back to the plate following his later strikeout, Winn probably couldn’t have helped but smile at his status as the darling of the afternoon.
Most everyone in attendance never seemed to side convincingly with one team. But, for a change, that seemed quite appropriate because the afternoon was a win-win situation. Yes, the scoreboard at the end of the day read Team USA 12, San Francisco 7, but the real winners on the day were the game of baseball and all of us lucky to enjoy such a rare experience.
The jovial mood of our national team, complete with Giants great Willie Mays posing for pictures with an amusingly star-struck Jeter, showed just how much the current stars appreciate the opportunity to break ground in this grand game.
Walking away from the stadium late that afternoon, I had one last reflection on the unique quandary the game brought. After straddling the fence and cheering for both teams as I thought I never would, I shook my head and laughed.
At least it was an exhibition.
