Flaming the Fans

Sports fans in Kansas City have taken a beating during the past few weeks. The Royals’ best pitcher, Paul Bird, referred to the right-field bleacher crowd at Kauffman Stadium as “thugs” when they protested the players’ union’s declaration of a strike date. Pitcher Jason Grimsley baited the protesters by mockingly tipping his cap toward them as his teammates high-fived him. Michael Tucker, the Royals’ right fielder, dared the boisterous fans to come down on the grass if they thought they could better his playing.

Chiefs fans haven’t had it any easier. They’ve spent the off-season fretting and sweating over whether Tony Gonzalez, the Chiefs’ best player, would do his thing on the turf at Arrowhead this season or on some NBA bench. Ryan Sims, the Chiefs’ much-anticipated first-round draft pick, sat out the entire training camp before signing last week. When the flabby Sims finally did show up, he looked like he’d been following the Jason Whitlock marathon-training regimen — eat till you fall asleep.

Why do we put up with these selfish vagabonds?

Anyone who’s ever tuned in a Royals game late at night while sitting in Dad’s car in front of the house understands why we continue to follow, root for and love our professional sports teams. It’s not the players who wear familiar jerseys with the words Kansas City scrawled across their chests that we cherish — it’s the teams and the memories and the city.

Sure, we latch onto some players and make them part of the family. But for every Len Dawson, George Brett and Derrick Thomas who comes into our lives and makes Kansas City home, 50 Jason Grimsleys and 100 Elvis Grbacs pass in and out of town without leaving so much as a footprint.

It’s not about the players anymore, if it ever was. Just ask a four-year-old kid from Grain Valley making the “long” drive to the ballpark with his mom and dad and feeling butterflies in his belly as he finally spies the enormous Kauffman Stadium scoreboard. He doesn’t care who wears the Royals or Chiefs uniforms. He just wants to go to the ball game and root for the home team.

That’s wise, because most major-league athletes care little about the cities they play in and even less about the fans. This is nothing new. More than 25 years ago, baseball granted players the ability to move easily from team to team as free agents. The NFL’s carpetbaggers have enjoyed similar freedom since the early 1990s.

Looked at another way, the players are little more than part-time employees who are as easily replaced as a missing button on a jersey. In fact, the fans care more about that jersey than they do about the person inside it. That’s why we still filled Arrowhead and screamed joyously for our Chiefs despite General Manager Carl Peterson’s decision to not re-sign quarterback Rich Gannon over Grbac. After the Royals parted with Johnny Damon, Jermaine Dye and any reasonable hope of winning, we still cared just as much about how well the remaining boys in blue did each night.

“Our team” might have seventeen different players on its roster from year to year, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is “our team.”

“The Royals and Chiefs give Kansas City a major-city status,” says Margaret Harbert, a Lee’s Summit resident. “I grew up here in the 1950s, and I like to see Kansas City recognized, not overlooked.” Harbert can’t name two players on either the Royals’ or the Chiefs’ rosters, but she considers herself a fan of both … and she’s right.

Being a fan isn’t about memorizing rosters that change faster than rookie signing bonuses. Being a fan is simply a matter of caring about the city where you grew up, where you live or where you work. And that’s much more honorable than being a rude loser who cares only about his next paycheck.