Whether it’s a fireworks factory explosion, a skateboard crash, or a good old-fashioned shot to the nuts, if it’s painful and not happening to me, I eat it up (I’m not alone in this; there’s a reason that COPS has been on television for twenty years.).
I think it has to do with my upbringing as a Clevelander. Devastating sports losses, brutal winters, and being the national butt of jokes have made us sadistic and malicious. We want others to share our suffering.
This pathology manifests itself most clearly in January, when the Browns have inevitably missed the NFL Playoffs and I become an anti-fan™.
You may be asking yourself, “Matt, what is an anti-fan™ and why have you trademarked it?”
I’ll answer the second part first: Pat Riley trademarked three-peat™ and that worked out pretty well for him, didn’t it?
Next, I define an anti-fan™ as one who actively cheers against a specific team or teams, especially when one’s favorite team is out of contention.
“But Matt, isn’t that the same as a heckler?”
Not quite. A heckler roots against a team to help his team. An anti-fan™ roots against a team out of pure hatred. To put it simply: a heckler is an anarchist; an anti-fan™ is a nihilist.
This weekend, it was great to be an anti-fan™. I railed against the Titans (because they took the Browns’ playoff spot), the Bucs (because Jeff Garcia is a douche), and Pukesburgh (because . . . well, just because).
For two days and two nights I cursed these insidious teams, cackling at the darken’d sky and drinking my hell-broth! And lo, watching them lose filled my black heart with glee!
Am I empty inside? Perhaps. It’s the price I must pay to be an anti-fan™.
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