I went to a Timbers game once. It was outstanding. They were playing the LA Galaxy, which was exciting because David Beckham was there (he of the big dick underwear ads and highly specialized ability to "bend it" as foretold in the 1965 John Updike classic Bend It Like Beckham) or maybe they were excited because Timbers fans hate the LA Galaxy, which is something Timbers fans seem to be really good at—hating things. I'm not saying the Galaxy aren't worthy of derision. Their name is "The Galaxy," which is pretty presumptuous—it seems like their name was decided upon by two nine-year-olds one-upping each other at a lunch table:




..."my dad is Chivas"


Still, it seems like there's enough acrimony amongst Timbers fans to fill an entire pitch! (HAHA JUST KIDDING, I CALL IT A FIELD FUCK YOU THESE COLORS DON'T RUN.) Timbers fans are mad at Seattle, they're mad at each other, they're mad at me for making jokes about the Timbers, chill the fuck out Timbers fans. You don't get a free pass for acting like self-important, lumbering, dumb-fuck sports fans just because you're self-important, lumbering, dumb-fuck fans of a sport that all the other self-important, lumbering, dumb-fuck sports fans spend their time mocking.

You're fans of a beautiful game, I guess... but I don't really care for soccer. Who gives ten damns if I like soccer? Please don't feel threatened by the public-at-large's lack of interest, because it makes you seem insane. If I'm eating a grilled cheese sandwich and I become aware that someone doesn't like grilled cheese sandwiches, and it makes me so angry that it prevents me from enjoying my grilled cheese sandwich, I'm fucking up my own Christmas. Besides, there are plenty of people at these games—and I call them games, not matches. I call it soccer, not football. I call them uniforms, not kits. When you go out of your way to correct these minor word preference differences when someone is just trying to make polite conversation, you're an asshole. Some of the people I've met from the Timbers Army take themselves more seriously than people from the actual army. You're wearing matching scarves and singing songs—take it down a notch.

I don't mean the scarves or the singing, either. I love the scarves and the singing. The Timbers game I went to was one of the most intoxicating, beautiful sporting events I've ever attended. Watching the Timbers Army made me angry at other sports for not having that kind of appreciation for the absolute absurdity of the enjoyment of spectator sports and a celebration of that enjoyment despite the absurdity. Focus on that. Focus on your own enjoyment and not on your paranoia that others might not be enjoying it as much as you.

I've always maintained that if you got a bunch of hipsters drunk, let them wear scarves and sing together, then it made no difference what was in front of them. They'd show up for a reading of Shrek 3. You know that's not true, though, so who gives a fuck what I think. Watch your damn game and leave me alone.