When that dude stood up from the rarified air of his luxury suite and gave the Buffalo fans the double barreled middle digit salute, I think I fell in love. (Apologies to my husband, Robert Pattison, The Naked Guy in Sex and the City, Mark Sanchez, Rachel Maddow and Urban Cowboy-era John Travolta...all those crushes pale in comparison to Bud Adams these days. Was that a Leisure Suit?!)
Mostly I think of NFL owners as a shifty fraternity of old white guys armed with big checkbooks and bigger egos who tool around training camp in golf carts smoking cigars, building gaudy McMansion style stadiums to further suck you dry of your hard earned cash to pay for their seven story, kick-ass, tricked-out scoreboard and have a hidden copy of Sarah Palin's book in their bathroom.
Mr. Adams may very well be a member of that evil cabal, but damn, that 86 year old can still rock the passion!
An intense spirit of competition and obnoxious behavior fueled by alcohol pretty much sums up the Ideal American Sports Fan. Anyone who's attended a sporting event in the past 20 years can attest to the rude, inebriated, mean-spiritedness bordering on psychopathic "fans" in the stands. And that's just for Little League games.
A cruel kinda' crazy permeates every ballpark. Crass is the new black. How can you know the words to "Yankees Suck" but not the National Anthem?
I'm not sayin' it's a bad thing, but after covering sports for 14 years, it's merely an observation. I heard this gem shouted at me while interviewing players and dignitaries during the Yankees Victory Parade for Inside Edition:
"Hey chick reporter, show us your tits!"
Been there, done that. Nevertheless even I was surprised at the open hostility directed at just about everybody within shouting distance of a Yankee fan. And their team won. God help chick reporters everywhere if they'd have lost.
Admittedly, sports fans have a lot to be angry about:
*Astronomical prices that pretty much guarantee they'll never be able to afford season tickets. (The citizens of Cleveland sighs in relief.)
*Various displays of dumb-assery by the usual subjects- Ocho Cinco, Terrel Owens, girl soccer players.
*Various displays of criminal activity by the usual suspects- University of Tennessee football team, Plaxico Burress, girl soccer players.
*Ashton Kutcher commercials.
*A match up between the Browns and the Ravens that's been the worst thing on Monday Night Football since, well, some would say me. (Beat ya' to the punch there, didn't I?)
Because of all of the above and much, much more, sports fans have every reason to vent.
But the interesting thing is that "Ef You!" is no longer simply the man-howl of the drunk-ass sitting in the bleachers directly behind you anymore.
Now owners can be just as vulgar as they can afford to be. Just as vulgar as, say, a Philly fan or an Arnold Schwatzenager missive.
Happily, it doesn't end there. Now even players wives can bring the potty mouth to the party.
Gone are the days of Glenn Close softly backlit in her white chiffon lending her sweet support from the stands to her man in The Natural.
Sistah, please.
Ever since Cynthia Rodriguez wore that "Fuck You" t-shirt to Yankee Stadium, all bets are off. In retrospect, she may have had reason to be bitter, no? I can picture Madonna giving the finger to the crowd, but Kate Hudson...not so much.
Even I, the wife of a retired ballplayer, have been guilty of unleashing some naughty words in the name of sports-fandom, and recently.
Last Sunday I was in Orlando attending Johnny Damon's fundraiser for the Wounded Warriors Foundation when a group of us gathered around a t.v. to watch the Pats/Colts game.
After cheering loudly and lustily after the incredible comeback by Peyton and Co. and fueled by the lethal combination of Lemon Drops and Cabernet, I was informed that one of the other guests, Mike O'Malley from My Name Is Earl (R.I.P.) is a huge Patriots fan and was annoyed at my vocal support of the Colts.
So I walked over and did what any other self respecting, red-blooded American sports fan could, should and would do.
I gave him shit.
He looked shocked, then pissed, then he stomed away. After I got done laughing, I shouted, "But I love you in Glee!" I don't think he heard me.
Now, sober, I'd really like to publicly apologize for my insensitive, un-ladylike, un-Christian and uncharacteristic behavior. I'm really, really sorry for my lack of sportsmanship.
But hey, ef 'em if he can't take a joke.