rockies nation

what? is there a game going on? is elway playing?



here's my column from today's paper. go to fortcollinsnow.com for other stories i've written.

--kjb

CARPE DIEM 10-20-07

The Rockies are going to the World Series.

Who would have thought that those words could ever come true? With the club’s short, inauspicious history, a history of chewing up great pitchers in the rarified mile-high air before sending them elsewhere to nurse their wounded confidence and multi-million dollar contracts (hello, Mike Hampton) a history of many, many home runs sailing over the wall in Coors Field—not all of them for the right team—this day seemed like a pipe dream to many die-hard fans.

But who would ever have guessed just how many die-hard fans the good ol’ Rocks actually have? As entertaining as it has been to watch these unlikely, nameless heroes of Blake Street shred their way through the Phillies and the Diamondbacks as if their opponents were troops of girl scouts who mistakenly put on baseball uniforms, just as entertaining is watching all of these new fans cheer on their home team.

Er, did I say “new” fans? I meant, all these die-hards who have been way, way into cheering for the Rockies forever, since before they were even born, or at least since 1958 when their grandparents went to see their first Rockies games. The folks I saw cheering on the Rockies at Lucky Joe’s on Sunday night may have been fans since the late 1930s, back when the Black Rocks, as they were formerly known, played at Pike’s Field, that rickety old baseball stadium that was torn down in ’47. They’ve been fans since 1872, the year when Black Rocks organization first started, under the watchful gaze of owner Tiberius Monfort, the venerable old scion of the Monfort family fortune, first built on timber and silver, later moving into newspapers and railroads after the silver crash in 1893.

Okay, none of that happened. But if you watched the game in a bar the other night, you wouldn’t know it. You would have encountered “ancient die-hards,” and perhaps witnessed some proud boasting. Guys in Rockies jerseys that still held the creases of their original packaging and guys wearing Rockies hats so new they still had their “genuine MLB product” stickers on the bill argued about who had been a fan for longer. One screechy girl was so happy—though about what exactly, it was hard to tell—she couldn’t even form words. These folks were clearly die-hard fans, even if they didn’t know a Tulowitski from a garden tool.

But I’m here to help. Just some reminders to all those new—er, really, really old fans—who might not be entirely clear on how the game works. Here’s some helpful pointers to help you retain your die-hard cred:

· it isn’t necessarily going to be a good thing every time the batter makes contact. There are these things called “fly balls” that, when batted into the air, are often caught by the opposing team’s outfielders (those are the guys who stand around way out in the field.) Screaming wildly on a pop-out is a dead giveaway that you’ve never watched baseball before.

· throwing to first base when a runner is there- is a way to prevent him from getting too much of a lead (that’s the distance he stands away from the base). It’s part of the game, as are substitutions. Booing when the opposing team does either of these things makes no sense. In fact, booing a television set really, really makes no sense. I won’t get into how the whole electronics thing works, but suffice it to say they can’t hear you.

· The Rockies’ reputation of the past notwithstanding, high-scoring, multi-home run games are not the norm. Also, some of the greatest games are ones in which the final score is 1-0, or 2-1. Baseball is a battle of wits between managers, as well as a test of individual skills. The game has more in common with chess than with college football, so don’t expect scores like 21-3, and don’t think that home runs are the only exciting thing that ever happens in baseball.

And don’t ever, ever say “But nothing is happening!” or I will beat you with my tattered, forlorn, sweat-stained Braves hat, the one that reeks of shame and broken dreams.

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