Two Kind Of Hate
I don’t think he’s very smart. I don’t think he’s very clever.
I think he’s arrogant. I think he’s condescending. I think he’s immature and childish.
He’s a manipulative, thin-skinned, passive-aggressive troll.
He doesn’t know how to say the right thing. He doesn’t know how to let things go. He doesn’t know how to take responsibility for his own shortcomings.
He craves attention. He craves approval. Nothing is his fault.
If you don’t agree with him, it’s your problem because Josh Hamilton gets it. He’s the only guy that’s got it figured out.
You’re wrong. He’s right. Period.
Truthfully, I think it’s fine to hate Josh Hamilton. If he’s going to go after the fans, he deserves all the hate we can dish out.
But in my world there are two very distinct kinds of hate: real hate and sports hate.
Real hate is a festering wound. It eats at you. It can ruin you for a day, a week, or even longer. It’s ugly, and it can make you forget yourself.
Sports hate is fun, but it stays between the lines. It’s booing success and cheering failure. It’s jokes about blue eyes and Red Bull. It’s 40,000+ chanting “Base-ball town!”
When you call Josh Hamilton a crack head or make jokes about him falling off the wagon, that’s no longer sports hate. That’s real hate.
It’s also classless, uncalled-for, and, dare I say, gauche.
And while it may not be my place to tell other fans what kind of fans they should be, I think most of us should know the difference between real hate and sports hate.
If not, we need to figure it out.
Stay classy, Rangers fans. (And thanks for stopping by.)