The Top 11 Sports Fans We Love To Hate, Pt. 2

As they say in the rap game, it’s the remix!

Back in March we brought you the first edition of the Top 11 Sports Fans We Love To Hate, and it was an instant hit.

That list has since been reproduced on Sports Illustrated’s SI.com, among a number of other websites.

Naturally, we had to follow up with a second Top 11 devoted to all those annoying patrons of sport who didn’t make our first list. On to the show…

11. The Kid Who Requests The Foul Ball From The Adult Who Caught It

Vital Signs: Under the age of 12; seated near an adult with good reflexes and soft hands; has seemingly everyone in the ballpark on his side.

Reason we hate them: These days, if you’re over the age of 18 and you happen to be lucky enough to catch a foul ball at a baseball game, you’re almost obligated to hand it over to a kid who has done nothing to warrant such a gift.

Blessed with a sense of entitlement given to him by parents who can’t say “No,” The Kid Who Requests The Foul Ball From The Adult Who Caught It is the worst kind of bastard there is. A thief that has been given free rein by society to steal as much as he likes.

Attention kids: If you want to catch a ball at a baseball game, then bring your glove and get out to batting practice. No need to hijack the trophy of another fan who just had his most fortuitous moment in history.

And as for the rest of you, you bandwagoners in attendance that support this evil monkey in his quest to rob from the poor and give to himself, shame on you. No need to boo the fan who just made a killing by snagging that foul pop up.

He need not give away that ball to anyone who comes clamoring for it. It’s his and his alone. What if it was you that made the catch? You wouldn’t want 50,000 people booing you. Think about that next time.

10. The Aisle Crawler

Vital Signs: Sitting in the middle of the aisle; has a urinary problem; really likes to eat stadium food.

Reason we hate them: The Aisle Crawler can’t sit still for more than five minutes, and everyone sitting on either end of the row knows it.

The AC finds his seat, then immediately heads to the bathroom for a piss break.

Two minutes later, the AC returns, sits, then decides it’s time to eat.

Ten minutes after that, the AC is back with food, but wouldn’t you know it, not five minutes later he’s gotta drop a deuce.

A short while later the AC returns with toilet paper stuck to his shoe and obscures your view as your favorite player hits a grand slam home run, throws down an instant YouTube sensation dunk, scores a record-breaking goal, or sets the all-time record for touchdown receptions in a career.

Worse yet, the AC apologizes every time he gets up and shimmies his way through the people who didn’t come to the game just to eat, piss, and crap. With each person he oozes around on his way to the concourse, he mutters a brief, “Sorry” under his breath.

Sorry?

Sorry?!

If you were sorry, you wouldn’t keep getting up, bitch, now sit the @%!* down!

9. The Cynic

Vital Signs: Dressed in home team’s attire, but not cheering; has a buddy that laughs at everything he says; looks like a smart ass.

Reason we hate them: Even when things are going well for the hometown nine/five/eleven/six, the Cynic is in doubt.

Determined to one-up every great play with a crack about the inevitable demise of the player involved, the Cynic isn’t really funny so much as he’s a quick-witted pessimist who makes the worst out of every situation.

Sitting near the Cynic can quickly get old. It takes a strong man or woman not to turn around and punch the Cynic in the face by game’s end.

The problem with the Cynic is he’s always right, and therefore can never be thwarted. Should his team win, he’s a proud supporter of a victorious ballclub.

Should his team lose, then he’s the Nostradamus of sports fans, having predicted this defeat from his bittersweet vantage point.

Just as guilty as the Cynic, himself, in contributing to the Cynic’s behavior is the always-present Cynic’s Buddy. Cynic’s Buddy fuels the fire by laughing like the dimwitted lemming he is at every wise-ass remark the Cynic makes.

Cynic’s Buddy might just be at the game for the free ticket that the Cynic provided, but that’s no excuse for his lack of a brain.

8. The PDA Artists

Vital Signs: Travel in pairs; very affectionate with PDA partner; oblivious to the fact that they are amongst 10,000-80,000 other people.

Reason we hate them: We can get our softcore porn from the internet. We don’t need it at sporting venues, too.

And yet when we’re in the presence of the PDA (Public Displays of Affection) Artists, we can almost hear the opening sequence of the theme song from Shaft in the backs of our brains.

Mixed in with bounce passes, halfback draws, and 3-2 curveballs are two ugly people rounding second base and heading for third in a freaky game of inappropriate touching that nobody wants to see.

Lock up your children and avert your eyes with the PDA Artists around. They’re going to do everything they can to gross out all 50,000 people in attendance by manipulating the JumboTron KissCam to showcase the tricks they can do with their tongues.

I think I feel my nachos coming up…

7. The Guy Who Thinks Every Fly Ball Is A Home Run

Vital Signs: Found at baseball games; gullible; overly optimistic; blessed with the eyesight of Mr. Magoo.

Reason we hate them: It’s the second inning and you’re returning to your seat double-fisting a pair of Hefeweizens when you hear the crack of the bat, followed by a scream of unbridled joy behind you.

You look up as the crowd around you leaps to its feet, spurred to action by the cries of, “Go! Go! Get out!” from The Guy Who Thinks Every Fly Ball Is A Home Run.

You spill priceless drops of your $8 beers as you attempt to witness this momentous occasion over the throng of onlookers. Unfortunately, all you see is the center fielder trot in a few steps and camp underneath a lazy popup that he snatches to end the inning.

The fans around you sit down with a sigh, as TGWTEFBIAHR says, “Next time, next time.”

6. The Entitled Elitist

Vital Signs: Middle-aged; often wealthy looking; never smiles; appears to have greater fondness for a root canal than sports.

Reason we hate them: Unless you’re super old or handicapped, there are certain points in every game where the crowd rises to its feet to cheer on the home team. That’s the rule. The Entitled Elitist is the exception to that rule.

The Entitled Elitist purchased his or her seat to sit in it...all game long. Standing is not part of the deal.

On top of that, at no other point during the game does the Entitled Elitist show any emotion whatsoever. He or she just sits and glares, like your bitter high school math teacher after you just made the joke of the century about Pythagoras.

Like a robot of some sort, the Entitled Elitist doesn’t eat, drink, or get up to use the bathroom, as if he or she has been cryogenically frozen to his or her seat, Austin Powers style.

If you’re an Aisle Crawler, don’t try and work your way past the Entitled Elitist, either. The Entitled Elitist isn’t moving for anyone or anything, and will literally sit there motionless as you give him or her a veritable lapdance on the way to the concourse.

5. The Picnic Lunch From Home Family

Vital Signs: Armed with storage coolers and backpacks full of ice; carrying half the contents of their kitchen on their person; usually dressed like ex-hippies.

Reason we hate them: The Picnic Lunch From Home Family is simply too much. It’s one thing to bring a small snack from home, or maybe sneak in cans of Coke or Bud Light, but to somehow manage to fill a cooler full of hummus sandwiches, rice cakes, and organic apple juice and get it past security is beyond most sports fans.

Not so for TPLFHF.

The fact is, not only is stadium food too pricey for them (something most of us can relate to, for sure), but it’s also too unhealthy and frankly, too barbaric.

TPLFHF doesn’t eat at restaurants, either, so squeezing in a meal immediately before or after the game is completely out of the question.

It’s a wonder TPLFHF is even present at a sporting event, seeing as how they would appear to be more interested in stage versions of our favorite classic movies, or the fact that their kids may or may not even be allowed to touch a ball of any sort.

At least we can keep ourselves entertained during the down time by waiting to see what TPLFHF will pull out of their clown car lunch box next. Tofu, anyone?

4. Wrong Sport Jersey Guy

Vital Signs: Male; wearing the jersey of a sports team that does not even play the sport they are in attendance to watch.

Reason we hate them: Imagine you’re at a Chicago Bulls game and a guy shows up wearing a Brian Urlacher jersey.

Sure, we can all appreciate the hometown support, but you really couldn’t find it in your heart to wear the clothing of the team you actually came to watch play?

We get it, Wrong Sport Jersey Guy, you’re a good-intentioned hometown fan who happens to really, really like one, specific jersey, no matter if that team happens to be playing on this particular day or not.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t shake our heads at you, either.

There’s really no excuse for this sort of behavior. If you have the money to spend on a jersey for another local sports team (which is usually upwards of $50, at least), then you should have a few extra bucks to purchase a cheap t-shirt bearing the logo of the team you’ve come to witness in action.

It’s not that difficult. You’re just stubborn.

3. The Guy Whose Friend Called To Tell Him That The TV Video Camera Is Pointed Directly At Him During Certain Points In The Game.

Vital Signs: Constantly on his cell phone; waves at what would appear to be nothing in certain, very specific situations; gets excited about stupid crap.

Reason we hate them: There are few people that irk us more than TGWFCTTHTTTVCIPDAHDCPITG. Probably because we can be plagued by this idiot when at the game, or when we’re sitting at home watching the game on TV. You can’t get away from this fool.

It never ceases to amaze me how many season ticket holders are absolutely giddy over the fact that when a right-handed batter strolls to the plate and the camera from the first base camera well angles towards that batter to get a profile shot, that means I’M ON TV RIGHT NOW!!!!! Cue the insane waving.

Perhaps even worse than this is when a couple of idiots find themselves in the first few rows behind home plate and make it a point to wave to all their at-home friends on every single pitch that gets delivered.

What I wouldn’t give to see a well-placed fastball land right on the fence in front of those goobers.

It’s one thing to casually wave for the cameras once or twice if someone lets you know you’re on TV, but every single time? Really? How old are you?

2. Upper Deck Ump/Ref/Official Jockey

Vital Signs: Sitting in the upper level of the stadium/arena; yells at the umpires/referees/officials on a frequent basis, thinking that they can actually hear him from this vast distance.

Reason we hate them: It’s one thing to pick on the umps/refs/officials if you’re sitting in the lower level. You scream loud enough and one of them might actually be able to make out something you’ve said.

But when you’re in the upper deck, everything changes.

First off, the only people who can hear your raging insults at this altitude are the folks sitting around you. And frankly, nobody cares about what you have to say.

We’ve all heard the, “You’re blind, blue!” or “Glasses, stripes, glasses!” remarks countless times in our sports viewing careers, and hearing it 50 more times today from you is just out of our realm of tolerance.

I mean, what do you really have to gain here? Best-case scenario, the lead ref stops play, looks up at you in the nosebleeds and shouts, “Shut the hell up, jackass!”

But that will never happen, so really you, and everyone around you, are stuck in a lose-lose situation. That’s no fun.

1. Backwards Y.M.C.A. Chick

Vital Signs: Female; likes to dance; possibly dyslexic; doesn’t know a forwards “C” from a backwards “C.”

Reason we hate them: At most baseball and basketball games (football not as much), you can count on one song to be played at nearly every contest: Y.M.C.A.

As is the case with Y.M.C.A., the song inevitably spurs a dance frenzy when it is blasted over the P.A. system.

While most dudes are content to stand up and put their hands in their pockets as the unofficial gay anthem blares around the stadium, the ladies are set into motion like Bernie, from Weekend At Bernie’s Part One, and of course Part Two.

Gyrating with the help of a beer or two during the opening verse of the song, these women patiently await the chorus of their favorite ’70s megahit.

As soon as “It’s fun to stay at the…” gets played, an explosion occurs. Around the arena, women everywhere thrust their hands to the sky spelling out the chorus line, Y-M-C-A.

But soft, what’s this? The “Y” looks good. The “M” is fine. Even the “A” is a-okay. But what’s with that “C”?  That’s no “C.” That “C” is backwards.

Then you notice that roughly half of the amateur dancers in attendance form their “C’s” in the wrong direction. You fool! Don’t you know that you’re supposed to be showing off your “C” to all the people in front of you. It’s supposed to look like a “C” to them, not to you! Damn it!

Irritated by this attitude of neglect towards the alphabet, you sit down and curse The Village People as you wait for the game to resume. Effing “C.”