Sunday, May 29, 2011

I GO HARD NOW: A Long Distance Relationship

This is my first post for I Go Hard Now. As I was sitting here getting up the nerve to click "publish," it occured to me that we have touched on a similar topic in the past. I am clearly a perfect case study for Kendon's A Parent's Guide to Raising a Sports Fan Amongst Competing Sports Markets. Enjoy.

The other day I was on twitter, as I am constantly, when I saw somebody questioning the validity of another Cleveland fan?s allegiance with the question, ?Do you even live in Cleveland?? While it was not directed toward me, I felt the sting of his accusation as if it was. You see I am not from Cleveland, I have never lived in Cleveland, nor have I spent any extended periods of time in the Greater Cleveland area. I was born in Boston and at raised in a small town outside of Dayton.

However, I have always affiliated (at least from a sports perspective) with Cleveland more than my own metropolitan region for any number of reasons. It could be simply that Dayton has no real sports identity. Oh sure, we have minor league hockey teams that come to town every once in a while before folding due to lack of attendance (but seriously, fuck hockey). The Dayton Dragons are a popular minor league baseball team. who on July 9th will probably break the Portland Trailblazers? record (814) for consecutive sold out games by a professional sports team. If we are to be honest though, it?s a real stretch to call a minor league baseball team a ?professional sport.? The Dragons are more of a sideshow than a sporting event, with more focus being put on the mascots (a boy dragon and a girl dragon!) than the actual game itself.

No, the real reason that I am a Cleveland fan is a familial one. My entire family was born and raised there. I was taught to be proud of my Cleveland heritage, not Dayton. Much like a first generation American would come home from school to hear their parents speaking in their native tongue, I would come home to the sounds of Cleveland. I remember my mom screaming at the TV during the Indians? contending seasons in the 1990s. My Grandfather would always let me know when it looked like the Cavs would win a game, ?It?s not over yet, my boy. This is Cleveland, the fix is in!? He was right more times than any of us would care to admit.

So no, I am not from Cleveland nor do I live there. However, that does not exclude me from feeling pain when we get our hearts stepped on every year. When egotistical shit-heads who think they?re bigger than the game stomp on our testicles, I piss blood just like anyone living in Parma or Strongsville. So in conclusion: Go Cavs, go Browns, go Indians, and go fuck yourself.

I?m out.

Source: http://www.igohardnow.com/2011/05/long-distance-relationship.html

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