My Two Favorite Teams are the Mets and Whoever is Beating the Braves

By Ken Dynamo
Posted Monday, May 12, 2008

Mets fans come in all variety, but the unifying theme is obviously a rooting interest in the New York Metropolitan Baseball Club. Generally, I think we're an intelligent, well-informed and affable collection of sports aficionado's, long overdue for the reward of a championship. Personally, my fanhood is more easily identified by my hatred of the Braves than anything else, including my love for the Mets . I say this without any overtones of either shame or pride, just pointing out the most obvious factor when it comes to my emotional response to baseball.

Don't get me wrong, I adore the Mets. Despite a 27th birthday approaching on the near horizon, I still decorate my bedroom with Mets posters and paraphernalia with the abandon of an eight year old. Of course the complete lack of feminine aesthetic input also helps. Point is, the Mets are boys, my 'dawgs ' if you will, and I'm sticking with them, come hell or high water or the re-hiring of Steve Phillips. But that doesn't mean I have to like everyone on the team. Sometimes I will outrightly abhor a member of the Metropolitans (see Lo Duca, Paul).

It's not the same, however, when it comes to my disdain of the Braves from Atlanta. No, I completely and utterly despise every member of the Braves organization. From the CEO of their ownership group to the last person signed to fill out their Rookie League team. And because of my universal hatred of the entire franchise, its often easier for me to root against the Braves than for the Mets. It's a simpler, more democratic fan process. To borrow some of the irony from 'Full Metal Jacket's' drill sergeant, to me, the Braves are all equally worthless.

Bobby Cox: hate his guts.

Chipper Jones: hope he dies in a fire.

Martin Prado: wish him nothing but the worst in life.

Brent Lillibridge: he stinks.

the ball boy: sorry bro, you're dead to me, too.

See how easy and fun it is to let loose a barrage of totally arbitrary (though also impotent) rage? I mean, I've never met any of these guys in person, but I still hate them. To be completely honest, I have no idea if Brian McCann is bad person or not. Maybe he and I would be great friends if I got to know him under different circumstances. But I'm not going to let something like that get in the way of my fan experience. You are a Brave, you are the enemy. Deal with it,McCann.

When it comes to the Mets, they all get the benefit of the doubt, and I'll always be hoping for the best outcome no matter who is at the plate or playing in the field, but I have my limits. I can not blithely sit back and cheer as people like David Newhan and Brian Lawrence sabotage a season of high expectations. It's a simple fact that they can't all be David Wright, and I can't treat them all like D-Dubs. Which is not to say that I'm a proponent of booing Mets . In fact I am not. I'll get upset over poor performances, but unless the player simply is not trying, booing is mostly wasted energy. Energy that should be saved for the GM, who is responsible for assembling such limited talent. Or better still, energy spent on booing opposing players.

I am indeed prone to unmerciful booing of Atlanta Braves (whom I rarely refer to as such but will oblige for purposes of maintaining a family friendly tone for this column). I can not pin point exactly when my feelings for the Braves devolved into an all-consuming primordial rage; most likely it was a slow build up over time until a tipping point was reached and my hatred for a collection of baseball players became permanently beyond temperament.

I'm not even very good with remembering exact dates that inspired my general abhorrence to all things Brave-esque. Maybe I have suppressed these bitter moments in time from memory, but more likely there just aren't as many moments of outrage when it comes to the Braves. There are no World Series scuttling home runs by Yadier Bleeping Molina, no dastardly acts of broken bat chucking cowardice by Roger bleeping bleep bleep Clemens. Aside from some lame taunting by Larry bleepity bleep-blop-bloop Jones, it's tough to think of a specific event that would engender such emotions from a -relatively- sane individual. Probably its the gradual build up of a crippling inferiority complex I've developed from devoting so much time and energy to a team that suffered a decades spanning embarrassment at the hands of their rivals. That explanation will have to do until I delve further into my own psyche in a subsequent essay entitled Malatopsis, A Meditation upon Hatred.

How long will I feel this seething intensity burning deep within the cockles of my soul? Might the Phillies or some other franchise topple the Braves from atop my personal totem pole of antipathy? I dunno, maybe. All I know is, right now, it feels just as good to hate the Braves as it does to like the Mets. Until that changes, all I have to say is: Die, Braves.

Oh, right, and 'Go, Mets', too.

Please welcome out newest contributor, recently paroled, Mr. Ken Dynamo. When not loitering at F.U., Ken can be foun- with disturbing regularity - at his own site. "Go Mets Die Braves". Ken is really okay .... just don't make any sudden movements.

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