Boooo!

If you’ve read my writing even remotely closely over the year since I’ve been polluting the web with it, you know that one of my very favorite targets is the ridiculous politicization and overt moralization of fandom at which Sox fans seem to excel. Nowhere is this more irritating than in the constant discussion of booing: when to boo, when not to boo, how much to boo, how big were the boos, how long, what percentage of the crowd was booing, why were they booing, were they right to boo. Keep in mind that for the most part, these are grown adults arguing pretty much endlessly over the finer points of a sound that most 6 month-olds can make; not that this has ever stopped anyone, I just thought it an important point.
We’ve had a recent spike of bootalk lately, on the occasion of the return of Johnny Damon to the Fens. Everyone talked about the boos, as though there was some form of suspense as to what would happen. The media greeted us with an immersion campaign to convince us that booing was not classy. Various fans and bloggers spoke up about how we always boo Yankees. Damon himself chimed in with his own stammered interpretations of what boos would mean, to him and in general.
Am I really the only one that finds all this completely ridiculous? Seriously, who the hell boos anything, ever, when they’re not at a sporting event? Do you boo your boss when he or she has you stay late? If your significant other dumped you, would you boo? How about if you were clipped by a bike messenger? What is it about sports that turns a normal human being into a sound effect?
But, fine. Sports fans boo. I can accept that. Here’s what I can’t accept: anyone pretending that it’s not just a really dumb thing that fans do. Must we really debate boos? Must we try to intellectualize this process? I’ve generally found in my life that the only way to make something stupid sound even more stupid is to pretend that it isn’t.
Enter the Globe, Herald, every Sox blog in the world, everyone’s co-workers, and Jerry Remy. Each and every one of those people have, over the course of the past couple days, tried to convince me of their particular viewpoint regarding whether I, personally, should boo Johnny Damon. Each and every one of those people has attempted to read the tea leaves of this situation, to induce deep and unalterable meaning into this ridiculous sound. My personal favorite was Damon himself, claiming a few days back that people who booed him at Fenway were actually going to be showing their displeasure with the front office’s tactics. Aside from being wrong, Damon was trying to overlay some fairly complicated projection issues onto 38,000 people due to basically the simplest sound a person can make that isn’t a short grunt.
So, listen. I’m not telling anyone to boo, or not to boo. I can honestly say that I don’t care one way or another. All I want is to not hear about it in pseudo-scientific or psychological terms on sports radio or in the newspaper or around the water cooler. I want us not to debate the propriety of the noise, or its metered amount. I want us to stop taking some bizarre glee in the process, to stop trying to turn this ridiculous yet unavoidable byproduct of being a fan into some kind of scientific measuring stick for displeasure. Do we realize how stupid all this must sound to anyone who doesn’t own a cap with either a big red B or an interlocking NY? Can we please save the debate for something that might in some way matter?
The bottom line is this. The question of who gets booed is incredibly predictable – Yankees, former Sox who spurned the team, any Sox player who strikes out a lot yet has the audacity to not be a perennial MVP candidate, Dan Duquette, Bucky Dent/Aaron Boone, and (if there were a god) Tim Tschida. The question of whether we should boo is irrelevant: how many Sox fans picked up the Globe Monday morning, or flipped on the Big Show Monday afternoon, still in the midst of deciding whether or not they should boo the man? Was there a large undecided demographic here that I was unaware of? Given all of that, why do we even ask the questions? Isn’t this all part of the same psychosis that has us honestly believing that these guys are out there playing only for our undying and unified adulation?
The next time Damon comes to town, boo. Or don’t. Hum, if you feel that particular need. Clap in any frequency you like. But for my sake, please, stop dissecting it.
And, if you do feel the need to boo, just remember this: nobody really cares what you do one way or another. Everyone it might impact is making more money that you are, and probably has a hot wife. They’ll sleep okay.
In fact, probably the only thing you’re really accomplishing is confusing the hell out of Youk.