Fresno State’s improbable ascension to the summit of college baseball is a thing you have to love if you’re a red-blooded American.  In this country, we’re all about rooting for the underdog, the Cinderella, the down and out type of guy.  It’s the American Dream, a cultural axiom we’ve married ourselves to that anyone in spite of everything can overcome and rise above.  So Fresno State’s run should have left me feeling all warm and bubbly inside but it didn’t.  Instead I left me feeling cheated and nauseated and I was unsure as to why.

So I began a search for the origins of my discontent and my sudden slight fit of nausea.  At first I thought my discontent stemmed from Fresno’s role of CWS bouncer of my school from Omaha.  Objectively, from a pure baseball standpoint, Carolina was the better team, but was simply outplayed by the Bulldogs.  However disappointed I was over the loss, I realized this was not my beef with Fresno and the source of my discontent.

         
So I searched ever deeper, as deep as one can in the realm of sports thought, for an answer, but none came and it began to nip away at me.  So I thought and thought as I watched a program on National Geographic about methamphetamine addiction.  Then, in the middle of the program it hit me: I’ve never rooted for the underdog in my life.  In fact, I despise the underdog as it relates to sporting competition.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve rooted for the superior team even if they weren’t my team.  For instance, during this year’s Super Bowl, despite my deep-seeded aversion to all things Boston, I cheered on the Patriots.  I rooted them on a basis of principle that decrees the best deserve the victory.  Anything else would be a travesty of competition.  At game’s end, I felt slighted because an injustice had occurred and the Giants were undeserving of their newly found champion status.

Another, more recent example also comes to mind.  Two weeks back, I supported Tiger over Rocco in the US Open.  It wasn’t a matter of me liking one or the other better.  It was a matter of principle: the best deserves to win.  So when Tiger emerged victorious, I felt relieved that a sense of order had been maintained.

Of course, if things went my way, if the best team or the best individual would always win and sports would become entirely unwatchable to a majority of the viewing public.  Only in the case of the even matchup, would the outcome be truly unpredictable.

However, I must admit from time-to-time, I will find myself rooting for an inferior team because of my obligations as a fan.  But most of the teams I cheer on year-in and year-out produce championship caliber teams with the exception of the East Carolina Pirates (but they’re making progress).  Rarely am I stuck in the conflictual state of rooting for an inferior team.

Maybe all of non-rooting for the underdog business makes me less American.  Maybe it has nothing to do with being American but at least I’ve figured out the source of my discontent.  As for the nausea, I’m not sure where that’s coming from but it could have something to do with the E-coli in my city’s water supply.