In the 1955 musical Damn Yankees, based on Douglass Wallop’s novel The Year the Yankees Lost the Pennant, Joe Boyd sells his soul to the devil, ostensibly to help his beloved Washington Senators win the World Series. In reality, Boyd’s Faustian bargain is less about his love of the Senators than his hatred (with a good dose of envy mixed in) of the Yankees. Hence the title.
What made Damn Yankees so successful is that it resonated. Among 1950s baseball aficionados – and in the 1950s, baseball still ruled the landscape of professional sports, so one could just as easily say “among 1950s sports fans” – you either rooted for the Yankees or despised them. Hatred of the Yankees united sports fans into a fraternity. It gave them a common bond.
Close parallels of the 21st century might be hatred of the New England Patriots, Alabama Crimson Tide, or Duke Blue Devils. At various times over the past 2+ decades it has been de rigueur to hate the Patriots, Crimson Tide, or Blue Devils. And, since these teams represented evil empires, hating them was not only acceptable, it meant one could say whatever one wanted about its players and coaches.
I had an experience that brought this into focus recently. I happened to be in Boston in early June and had the opportunity to attend Game 3 of the NBA Finals between the Celtics and Warriors. The fans were terrific – helpful on the T as we navigated our way to the Garden, friendly in the concourse, and enthusiastic in their support. I’ve never seen so many adults proudly clad in green jerseys, and shouts of “Let’s Go, Celtics!” rang throughout the arena. It was electric, and my sports nut wife was in her element.
Then, mid-way through the first quarter, something changed. I don’t recall if it was a hard foul or what, but “Let’s go Celtics” gave way to “F*** you, Draymond,” clap, clap, clap, clap, clap. (Apparently, the prohibition that scrolled pre-game on the jumbotron against offensive and obscene language didn’t apply to language directed at the other team.) By the 2nd half, what had started in a few sections was now being roared in full-throated approval by the entire stadium. “F*** you, Draymond,” clap, clap, clap, clap, clap. This alternated with the creative “Draymond sucks!” chant during time-outs.
What happened? It wasn’t that the fans were unhappy. On the contrary, the Celtics won the game to take a 2-1 lead in the series, so fans left the building ecstatic. Yet, even in throng exiting the Garden for the T after the game, the repeated chants insulting Draymond Green broke out. The chants supporting the other green – the Boston Celtics – were long gone.
Hate seems to have united the fans in a different, and in some sense more powerful, way than love. Or perhaps hating Draymond was just more fun (and easier) than loving the Celtics. Why is that I wonder? Why is it that you can walk into almost any college football stadium in the country and be serenaded with chants of “Go to hell, (fill in the blank), go to hell.”
I will come back to this in a future column, but for the moment there is a coda to the Boston Garden story. The gentleman seated on the other side of my wife did not participate in the Draymond hating in the first half. In fact, he apologized to her and said the fans really shouldn’t do that. By the final minutes of the game, however, he, too, joined in with gusto. A testament to peer pressure, the power of crowds, and perhaps one beer too many.
None of this would surprise Wallop. With his keen insight into the human condition, Wallop noted that hate, more than love, can motivate us to do things we would never even consider otherwise. And, as Joe Boyd discovered, once you succumb, it is very, very difficult to go back to the person you were before.
Hate unites. It just doesn’t unite us all.
Kelley Williams is a Northsider.
