September 2015
Dear Finley and Henry,
Previous generations left you with no ozone layer (sorry about that) so you’re going to need some hats. No fedoras please, until you are old enough to buy yourself a nice suit. I recommend a plain old ball cap. Which raises the question of which teams you will root for.
I’ve been putting you in Blue Jays caps for the most part. You seem to like baseball. They are the only remaining Canadian team in the MLB. And you both look good in blue. These are all perfectly legitimate criteria for determining your team allegiance.
But a hat is not just a hat. It does, at some level, speak to who you are and how you look at life.
There are basically two types of sports fans in the world: those who root for the Harlem Globetrotters and those who root for the Washington Generals.
Globetrotter fans are easy to understand. Given unconstrained freedom to choose their team, they have chosen to associate with winners. Hitch yourself to a Globetrotter team like the New England Patriots or the New York Yankees; make some nachos; expect victory. There is nothing wrong with that.
But it is a mistake to think that Generals fans are simply the inverse of Globetrotter fans. They root for Washington not because they are fans of losing, but because they are fans of hope. Hope that victory will emerge from the bog of perennial defeat is a thrilling, poetic addiction. That’s why people love the Cleveland Browns. Heck, that’s why people love Cleveland.
Hope is different than expectation. Maybe better. Maybe just more compelling.
Patriots fans wake up well-rested on Christmas morning expecting a shiny red bicycle under the tree. Browns fans lie awake all night hoping for one.
We all pick our own teams. Often we pick early in our lives, and rarely do we change. As your father, it’s easy for me to picture you as a couple of goldenboys, forever coasting to easy victories. But I also delight at every glimmer of hope and determination in the face of adversity that I see in your eyes. And of course I think you look good in blue.
Here’s thirty dollars. Go buy some hats.
Love,
Your Dear Old Dad