AH, SEPTEMBER - THE IDIOT HARVEST

They sit in the bleachers, a haven with a long history for sophomoric behavior. Somehow they drop the IQ of the entire rightfield section. Apparently, they were advised that their job is to 'heckle' the opposing players. It would help if they knew Grady Sizemore played in centerfield, not rightfield. It would also help if they knew that rightfield is leftfield. It's like a mirror, see, you are looking in at home plate...just like at home on the 'TEE-vee'. So when you sit on the left side, you overlook rightfield. But you can't sit in center, but even if you could, that would still be centerfield.


While they hoot, holler and make noise, they usually lose their energy by the 3rd inning. That does not make it any more tolerable.


It's that time of year. The Nuevo "A's fans" have hatched and are now infiltrating the Coliseum. They are beyond clueless. They are well past being uninitiated. They just don't care what is going on - they are at the place to be. Their inner-idiot and outer-idiot come together and are as one.


It would be great to blame this on alcohol; the cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems.


That isn't the case.


Now, this is not to suggest that if you are a new fan you should be banished from the Coliseum. Of course not. Come as you are. But don't follow the village idiots from all over the BayArea who come out in order to be seen and heard, not necessarily to root on the A's.


They are the goofballs that buy the counterfeit merchandise and make the trek to and from BART intolerable. Their hats and T-shirts are too bright and in some cases, not even the right color of the green and gold. It is unforgivable even to those who do not know better, but they buy the pink A's hats from the sidewalk vendorthief, thereby screwing the Breast Cancer Research fund $1. Go ask the loved ones of those who have lost someone to breast cancer. Ask them if it's okay if you defraud a breast cancer charity because you want to buy a cheaply made, one-size-not-fitting-all hat.


They show up to buy day of game tickets and spend 20 minutes trying to find the best cheap seat in the house only to choose the general admission bleacher seat in the end. They shuffle around as if practicing their eventual occupations as 'mallwalkers'.


They erupt at the crack of the bat. Even when it's the opponent in the batter's box. They weren't paying attention. They didn't know the other team was up to bat. And they curse the umpire for not calling a strike after the pitcher requests a new baseball and lobs it into the catcher in the familiar exchange. Or worse, exclaim, "What kind of pitch was that?"


While I'm typing, one of their brood in a "know-it-all" junior college freshman squeaky voice clamors, "turn off your computer."


You let it go once.


It's easy enough to allow idiots to be seen for what they are. Maybe the light of day burns that idiocy away and the great, "oh, oh that makes sense" moment reveals itself.


"Hey, put your computer away."


Like any hack comic in front of a brick wall trying to parlay what they remembered of a 1970's George Carlin set that they heard playing on one of their uncle's cassette, they try to reload their hollow shot if they get so much as an exhale of breath in reaction to their "funny".


"Hey, you, put your com-"


"Shut up bitch! I've got work to do - sit down and shut your fat ass up!"


Well.


Glad he said it and not me. Looking around, they were at least four laptops in the OF tonight. About a dozen more with cell phones stuck to their heads or holding them out for photos.


You would think that being yelled at would be the end of it.


Still, two batters later, "why does he keep fouling the ball - why can't he hit it? That's stupid."


That's almost a question.