5 Opinions About Sports That Offend Large Numbers of People

One of the reasons guys love sports is that you can talk about them and argue about them endlessly, but they aren't really important enough for anybody to get genuinely offended or mad about your opinions.

Sure, if you wear a Giants jersey into the wrong South Philly bar on the wrong night, you might be putting yourself in some sort of danger. But for the most part, civilized people can clearly listen to opposing opinions on sports topics without becoming angry like they might over politics or religion.

But fans are emotional beings, often fiercely attached to their players, teams and sports. They at times riot and destroy entire city neighborhoods. And some opinions have more potential to offend than others.

What follows are my five sports opinions most likely to offend the largest numbers of people. In some cases, at least, I've tried to express them in a somewhat tactful manner.

But I feel confident that the majority of sports fans reading this list will find something to make them grit their teeth, shake their heads and/or ask, "Who the heck does this idiot even think he is?"

Pink Red Sox Hats Are an Abomination

An abomination is an object that is abominable, i.e. vile, detestable, loathsome. That is the absolutely perfect word to describe my feelings for the pink Boston Red Sox cap, a dismal fashion trend that has emerged in New England since the turn of the century.

The pink Red Sox cap represents the worst in bandwagon, hipster-come-lately, trendy Red Sox pseudo fandom. It was invented so that a certain type of stylish young New England woman could feel like she "fit in" when she watched the game with her boyfriend and his buddies, while still feeling like she was cute. 

It is a fashion accessory first, a symbol of team allegiance only in a casual way.

I've floated variations of this opinion before on list serves and while I've received ardent support for it, I've also met with scathing hostility. Invariably one or more women will post their legitimate Red Sox credentials, protesting that they have been serious, informed fans since childhood but still love their pink hats.

To these ladies I would respond, I'm not questioning your sincerity, just your judgement. If you're a real fans in your own right and not just tagging along with your older brothers and their friends, you should really know better.

For me, the primary pleasure of being a fan of a sports team is participating in the continuity of the tradition. And the Red Sox team tradition is one of the richest in all of North American sports. The uniform is the symbol of that season to season, generation to generation constant.

Red Sox hats come in two colors: red or dark blue. Anything else is a cheap marketing gimmick.

Red Sox-Yankees Is the Only MLB Rivalry That Really Matters

I realize that up until the 1950s, the Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Giants probably had a greater claim to biggest rivalry.

They played in the same city, and in the post-Word War Two golden age of baseball, their rosters were filled with many of the National Leagues greatest stars. Bobby Thompson's shot to end the 1951 regular season is the biggest home run in the history of the game and will never be eclipsed.

But Californians have no legitimate claim on that tradition. Their Dodger-Giants rivalry is a far more casual, New Age generation of baseball tradition. I mean, how seriously are we supposed to take a rivalry when one team's fanbase is notorious for skipping out in the seventh inning, so they can beat traffic?

I'm aware there is supposed to be some sort of thing between the Cardinals and Cubs. I'm only vaguely aware of it, though, and that's probably because I can't think of one single Cubs-Cardinal moment that approaches any of the countless Red Sox-Yankees dramatic high points that even the most casual baseball fans are likely to remember.

Stuff like Carlton Fisk socking Lou Pinella in the jaw or Bucky F-ing Dent lifting that loaded-bat fly ball over the Green Monster or Pedro tossing Zimmer or Aaron Boone ending the '03 ALCS in the early a.m. or the delicious sight of the Yankees fans stunned by the historic collapse of '04 or...I could go on and on.

What do the Cubs-Cardinals have to compare to anything like that? I'm sure Bob Gibson got some big strike out on Ron Santo some time back in the late '60s or something. 

The electricity of the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry is only approached in all of North American sports by certain college football and professional hockey rivalries.

When the New England sports fans gathered to celebrate the 2002 Super Bowl championship, a victory in a different sport, moments into the rally, a spontaneous "Yankees Suck!" chant broke out.

Nascar? Not a Sport

Look, I'm not going to make the usual NASCAR dig and say, "Well, I guess I'm an athlete, too, since I drove 495 last Thanksgiving."

I get that driving in a NASCAR race is very physically demanding and requires a rare combination of steely nerves and excellent hand-eye coordination. It is extremely dangerous to be certain, and I can understand the dramatic appeal for fans, even if I don't really appreciate it myself.

But this is what it boils down to at its most fundamental. The competitors are sitting down, operating a motor vehicle, taking left turns around a track.

That's not a sport. Winning and losing has nothing to do with athletic ability or technique and everything to do with how effectively and efficiently the motor vehicle is maintained and operated.

I get that a driver who conditions himself like an athlete is likely to hold up better and make better decisions. But that would be true of somebody involved in a marathon chess showdown or an all-night poker game. 

I guess I'm OK with NASCAR falling under the umbrella term of "motor sports." I think of "motor sports" as a phrase sort of like "sports entertainment" used by the professional wrestling business.

It lets you know that the activity in question is in some ways kind of like a sport, or somehow related to sports, or something you might like too, if you also like sports.

But it's not exactly a sport.

Golf? Not a Sport

When the whole Tiger Woods scandal first broke, my reaction was optimistic surprise. With Tiger Woods sidelined, I reasoned, the amount of valuable sports coverage space devoted to golf was certain shrink.

Although I like to whack a bucket of balls from time to time, my feelings on golf are best summed up in the words of Mark Twain, that it is a "good walk spoiled."

But my mom loves to play golf, and so did her father. My brother and father both enjoy playing from time to time. I personally prefer more active pursuits, but I totally understand that golf can be an intriguing and consuming game of skill.

Just like bowling. Or billiards. Or darts. Or horseshoes. Or video games.

All of which are, also, not sports.

But don't just take my word for it. As far as I'm concerned, the ultimate authority on this is the Supreme Court, which upheld the Casey Martin verdict, which found that allowing Martin to use a cart on PGA events did not "fundamentally alter" the nature of the game. 

You can agree or disagree with that decision, but the fact that the case was even being heard says it all.

There is no legitimate sport where anybody would be able to even make an argument that using a motorized cart did not alter the nature of the game.

The Only Legitimate Fans Are Hereditary or Geographical

OK, this is the slide where I turn the arrogance up a notch and really make some folks see red. In my opinion, quite a few of you, maybe a majority, even, aren't real fans.

In my own narrow-minded sports universe, you don't pick your teams, you inherit them, through geographical coincidence and/or hereditary tradition. Everything else is just jumping on a bandwagon.

To me, people going around picking their own favorite teams is another symptom of the Narcissistic, media-obsessed age we live in.

Instead of embracing who you were meant to be, a Pacer's fan, say, you are instead creating a fantasy world of who you would like to be associated with: those west coast celebrity Lakers fans.

Instead of doing the honest thing and learning to appreciate the noble, if lesser, tradition of a team like the Kansas City Royals, you are attempting to swagger-jack from the Red Sox Nation.

Maybe it's just a matter of my generation. I grew up in the pre-cable television world, when the only significant media coverage you got was for your local team.

The exception is football, with multiple games broadcast each week from around the country, and to be honest, I have a special tolerance for football fans who chose their teams, as long as they did it when they were little kids and have remained loyal through thick and thin ever since.

But when I run into some 20-something kid in a sports bar who sees my Sox cap and strikes up a conversation with me about how he grew up in Nebraska and has been a diehard Sox fan ever since his sophomore year in high school, I'll smile, and I'll be friendly and talk about the team, as long as he knows enough to hold a conversation.

If I've had a couple too many beers, I might even regale him with my story about the time I poured coffee for the great Ted Williams, when I was a teenager bussing tables at a breakfast joint back in Maine. I won't even be a jerk about it if I have to explain who Ted Williams is.

But in the back of my mind, I will be thinking, dude, you're not really a Red Sox fan.