Bill Simmons on Big Papi

I don't want it to be an epitaph (Really.  No bad baseball news from the past five years would upset me as much as seeing David Ortiz hang up his Red Sox uniform, especially going out like he has thus far), but if it is an epitaph, it's a damn good one, for both Oritz and for us, the fans.  My favorite two paragraphs:

Really, that's a tribute to what he means to his fans and how delightful it was to watch him play. His career might be over (notice I left the door open; I'm such a sap), but Ortiz has reached the highest level an athlete can reach: unequivocal devotion. Sox fans love him the same way you love an ailing family member. In the end, at his bleakest point, he's brought out the best of an entire fan base. He has inspired dignity and emotion and loyalty. The fans could have sped his demise (and saved a few games) by booing until Francona benched him. They didn't. How often does that happen?

We live in a world in which all entertainment is chewed up and spat out. We milk public figures like cows, and when they're out of milk, we tip them over and move on. Quickly. It's not just that we need to see everything "jump the shark" that bothers me. It's also that so many of us are gleeful about pointing out that something or someone we once loved has outlived his usefulness. The demise of Big Papi played out in an old-school way: real devotion, and in the end, people refusing to let go.

If we can keep the faith in one player and avoid even thinking "what have you done for me, lately?" maybe there's hope for us after all.

Psychologist Says Fans are of Two Minds During Sporting Events

According to an article in the Washington Post (helpfully reprinted on the subscription-free Nashuatelegraph.com), a psychologist named Emily Pronin administered a questionnaire during Superbowl XXXIX (aka The Last Time The Patriots Won) to a group of 58 Eagles fans watching the game on a big-screen TV. During the game, the questions centered on how much attention the fans were paying to the game. Afterwards, Pronin had one last question: "How responsible did the person feel for Philadelphia’s defeat?"

According to Pronin, her study found that people have a tendency to believe that things they do can have magical effects over other, entirely separate events - like fans believing that following certain rituals or yelling at the TV will influence the course of events on the field. All of this research is probably true, but I could have told you that in five minutes, with one very simple anecdote.

In 2004, as some of you may remember, the Red Sox won the World Series after a trip through the ALCS so harrowing that it probably cost me several years of my life. At the end of Game 5, which was probably the climax of the madness, Robin, my then roommate Ryan and I all stood, smacking our hands against our thighs like we were banging mystic baseball-season-saving drums, because that was the only thing that would make Big Papi get a hit. And you know what? Everyone in Fenway was doing it, too. And you know what else? Papi got the hit that won the game on the tenth pitch of the at-bat. What does this prove? Sports fans are absolutely, complete and totally 100% crazy because we think that banging an improvised drum made a man hit a ball with a piece of wood. Holy crap am I excited for a new baseball season.

Via Deadspin; Pronin has her own take on the subject here.