What To Do When Your Team Stinks

I've been following the Oakland A's for almost 30 years now, ever since I moved to the Bay Area. I've had partial season tickets for most of that time as well. The tickets are cheap and decent. The Giants' ballpark, on the other side of the Bay, is much nicer, but it's too nice if you ask me. It's a bit like staying at a Sheraton, all this prefab manufactured homeyness. Plus my seats at the A's ballpark average a whopping 8 bucks a ticket. At the Giants ballpark, those same seats would cost me five times as much. So I'm happy being an A's fan. Plus when I first came to the Bay Area, the Giants played at Candlestick, and games there at night were a fair imitation of spring in North Dakota.

For many years, the A's have been slow starters. Why this is so I have no idea. But April is usually, as TS Eliot noted, a cruel month (he said it was the cruelist, but really now, that's just artistic license). May is usually just as bad if not worse. The A's usually don't get started as a team until June. By the All Star break they are in full gear. If things go well, they are in solid position for a playoff spot come August.

For the last two years, though, that scenario hasn't really happened. August has been as depressing as June. Two years ago, injuries derailed them and their general manager unloaded a bunch of veterans to save money and get some new prospects. Last year, their general manager decided to unload more veterans just when the A's were within striking distance.

This year, the A's were supposed to be back on track. The pitching staff was supposedly young and vibrant. Three new veterans were added to the team to provide hitting. But I didn't understand that assessment. I'd seen most the pitchers last year toward the end of the season. They looked to be AAA material, mostly second rate clones of Greg Maddux with one second rate clone of Curt Schilling. The veteran hitters included one guy clearly in decline since he'd gone off steroids and another guy who had no history of hitting well outside of the hitter's paradise of the Colorado Rockies' stadium. I was not optimistic about this team.

We're now at about the 30 game mark. The A's have gotten off to another slow start. But it's even slower than usual. In a word, the A's truly stink. The hitting is dreadful. The starting pitching is awful. And this is the first year I've seen them with the body language that says, "we're going to lose" every time they come to the plate. I'm going to make the prediction that there will be no turnaround this year. They stink now. They'll stink in June. They'll stink in August.

I don't want to cast blame. It's not like I can effect change. But I still have tickets to quite a few more ballgames. I do like baseball. I may have given up on my team, but I'm not giving up on the game. Every team has its good and bad years, even the Cubs. There was a very silly book, a bestseller called Moneyball, a couple of years back that made the claim that Billy Beane, the A's GM, was a genius and that the A's had found the secret formula for success. It was very, very silly. Success in baseball is largely luck. You draft someone in the 17th round who turns out to be an All Star. You trade for a has been who suddenly revives himself and becomes the player of old. Your starting pitching stays healthy year after year. It's luck.

Right now the A's aren't lucky. The one player they anointed to be the cornerstone of the team fell apart physically the instant he signed a long term contract. A player they gave up on after he suffered a horrible injury in a playoff game a few years back has gone on to recover and become a 300/30 All Star on another team. Highly touted draft picks haven't panned out. Lowly touted draft picks haven't either. All the genius of Billy Beane described in detail in Moneyball has somehow disappeared. He did look like a genius a few years back, I guess. Now he looks like an idiot. But neither were/are true. He used to be lucky. Now he isn't. God does play dice with all the universe and that damn well includes baseball.

A few years ago, though, the A's led a charmed life. The A's will be back, maybe next year in fact (I'm thinking about three to five years from now actually). But what do you do in the meantime? Here are some pointers on what to do when your team stinks.

1) Beer. Ballparks always have lots of beer, Mine also has tequila and scotch. Drinking away your sorrows is a time honored strategy. I plan to drink more beer in the games ahead.

2) People watching. Ballparks attract a wide swath of the American public. To pass the time, I like to play the game, "find the intellectual." There's a certain look they have, the take the game too seriously look (I have that look as well). Then there's the dress, a little more formal than most. If you haven't found a dozen intellectuals in the crowd by the third inning, you're not looking hard enough.

3) Watch the other guy. When one team stinks and has a loser attitude every day, the other team usually comes to the ballpark with glee. They are loose. Often, they play even better than they normally would. Confidence does that you know. And it's always nice to watch a confident team even if it isn't your own. Remember, it's about the game. Loyalty shouldn't really matter all that much.

4) StubHub. This is a bit like selling your stocks in a bear market, but you can always try to unload your tickets to unsuspecting buyers. They may not know your team stinks. Or maybe they are sadomasochists.

5) Charity. Big Brothers and Sisters will always take your game tickets. Children are our future. They tend to be on the optimistic side. Plus they are just happy to be out of the house enjoying the sights and sounds of the game. Then again, having them watch such bad play might cause permanent psychological damage. Maybe this isn't a charitable act after all.

I'm sure there are other coping mechanisms I'll create along the way. Yes, my team stinks. But when you're given lemons....I'm gonna make this the most enjoyable agony I can.