Fraters Libertas

Did You Ever Know I Was Their Hero?

Please hum the Bette Middler song referenced in the above title softly to yourself as you read the following testimonials to me regarding my brave, intoxicated stance against Barry Bonds.

First from reader James Phillips:

You are now officially my hero.  Although living as I do practically in the belly of the beast of SF fans, I hate the Giants.  I mean I really hate them.  It's not an exaggeration.  I do.  (And I hate the Niners even more.)  I have never liked that arrogant punk Bonds (with his private section and recliner in the locker room), but god forbid you point out that he is an arrogant jerk to some Giant fan.  You may as well insult their mother.   

I grew up (so to speak) in Los Angeles, but as an Angels fan (which is why The Elder's insight as to their acquisition of Colon is so important to me), and I hated the Dodgers.  However, as a result of living in the midst of "these people" for so many years, I am teetering on the edge of the abyss and becoming a Dodgers fan simply out of spite.  It's like rooting for the Packers when they play the Niners.  I don't feel good about myself, but it has to be done.

Next, another Dodgers fan, the Northern Alliance’s own Captain Ed:

When people ask me to identify a hero, sometimes I have difficulty answering. Sir Thomas More? General Anthony McAuliffe, who famously replied "Nuts!" to a German demand for surrender at Bastogne? The Canadian diplomats who risked their lives to smuggle Americans out of Teheran in 1979?

All good answers, of course, but now one man can take his rightful place with these other people of courage: Saint Paul of Fraters Libertas.

Saint Paul, you are this Dodger fan's Hero of the Year. God bless you.

And this from Brooklyn blogger Ken Wheaton, who’s no doubt still holding a candle for the Lords of Flatbush:

Here's a perfect example of a man crying out in the wilderness , a man ahead of his time, a man stating the patently obvious to people who are willfully ignoring the patently obvious.

I take these compliments (and shamelessly promote them) with full humility. And amazement. A 2-year-old scene-making diatribe against a professional athlete, and suddenly I’m the Alexander Solzhenitsyn of the Internet. Lesson learned - NEVER get on the wrong side of a Dodgers fan. They know something about nursing a grudge and getting even. And I hope my rant eased their haunted memories of Bobby Thompson in 1951 just a little bit.