Just What Does It Mean To "Support" A Team?

I sit in my dark and quiet home here in the States on Black Friday - the day after our traditional Thanksgiving day of feasting - nursing a headache and drinking strong coffee instead of sleeping late. While others are starting thier shopping for the Christmas holiday, I'll be quietly conserving my energy and getting ready for tonight's early start at the Gabba. Why are my actions so different than those of everyone around me?

Because I am an American and also an England supporter.

This year, the Ashes are in Australia, which means late nights and early morning updates for me. But because I am a sports fan (short for fanatic), I've run into that familiar bit of trouble that all fans experience many times in their life: believing their actions actually affect the play of his team.

This behavior falls in line with any number of sporting superstitions that border on religious devotion - here in the States we have the 'rally cap' and the 'playoff beard' - but for anyone who follow England during the Ashes it can come to have some serious consequences.

Last night I believed beer brought us wickets.

After a full day of eating and gathering with family, I returned home with my family, put my young son to bed and got on the computer. It was early yet, but Australia hadn't looked troubled by the England attack yet. Watson and Katich had cruised into the thirties, England had lost an appeal to the UDRS and the boys were really starting to look up against it. I went to the kitchen to pour myself another beer when I hear a low roar from the other room - Anderson strikes!

My relief at the breakthrough was so great I thought nothing of my actions at the time - until after lunch. I had just returned to the computer with a fresh pint (#3) when suddenly - Ponting gone!

I looked down at my glass with some curiosity. Two beers, two wickets.

I watched an over or two before I put the clues together - these beers equal wickets!

Katich had reached his 50 and the match was starting to tip back towards Australia. I decided to get to work...

Sip. Sip. End of over. Sip, gulp. Maiden over. Finally holding an empty glass in my hand as Finn came in to bowl to Katich and CAUGHT AND BOWLED!

It was one of those rare moments in sports, one that all true sports fans experience time and again; it was also one of those moments that I knew I'd never be able to explain to my wife: I was controlling the Ashes!

I looked at the clock. I looked in the fridge. I did some math.

I could probably get one more beer in. I went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. I sat at the computer, bottle opener in one hand. I placed it on top of the bottle in my left hand as Finn ran in to Clarke. I started to lift the opener, slowly bending the cap and FEATHERED BEHIND AND CAUGHT! Clarke departs! 4 wickets down!

Hey, wait a minute...

I hadn't even opened it. Was my theory flawed? I sat there for a few more minutes, still clutching the bottle opener in my hand, as I watched Swann get North to nick a beautiful turner to Collingwood at slip.

:/

So much for my theory!

I laughed heartily to myself in the way every fan does when he realizes he's been foolish. Nice to think that I was controlling the Ashes, even if it was for a few short hours.

I went to bed, with 5 wickets down and England back in the game. If they could get into the tail while I slept, England could easily nudge ahead in this one.

...


When I awoke this morning, I found that Hussey had continued to defy England through the night as I slept. No more wickets fell.

As I slept...



No wickets fell...



OH NO!!!!!!!!!!!



:)

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