Fanatic

by Gorant, Jim

• ISBN13: 9780618612987
• ISBN10: 061861298X
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2007-06-04
• Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Summary

When Jim Gorant, a Sports Illustrated staffer and lifelong sports fan, realized that he had never actually attended any of sports' most iconic events, he wondered, What kind of sports fan am I, anyway? And if he had to pick the top ten events, what would they be? These questions resulted in a growing obsession, first with determining the events that should make the list and then with actually attending them. What began as a personal challenge quickly evolved into a yearlong journey into the heart of sports in this country by way of its most iconic and beloved events. From the Kentucky Derby to the Super Bowl, from a day game at Wrigley to a fortnight at Wimbledon, from the NCAA Final Four to the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field, Gorant takes us alongfor the ride, evoking the best (and sometimes worst) sports has to offer in a style that marries Bill Bryson and John Feinstein.

Author Biography

JIM GORANT is a senior editor and writer at Sports Illustrated. He is the author of two books, Fit for Golf, with renowned PGA Tour trainer Boris Kuzmic, and America’s Top Golf Courses. He has also written for many publications, including Men’s Journal, Travel & Leisure, GQ, and Men’s Health.

Table of Contents

Introduction ix

The Super Bowl 1

The Daytona 500 32

The Final Four 58

The Masters 81

The Kentucky Derby 103

Wimbledon 127

Chicago Cubs vs. Atlanta Braves 148

Ohio State vs. Michigan 165

Lambeau Field 184

Fenway Park, Opening Day 205

Acknowledgments 223

Table of Contents provided by Publisher. All Rights Reserved.

Excerpts

Introduction WHADDAYA SAY, PATRIOTS?" I don't say anything. He shouts again, "What do you say, Patriots?" His face is now so close, I can see the blondish stubble of his beard reemerging after that morning's shave, and if I chose to I could give a fairly detailed accounting of his dental work. I don't choose to. At this proximity, our faces are like mirror images, but they're quite different. Mine is clean and largely expressionless, save the raised eyebrow. His is painted with a primal combination of blue, red, and silver, and twisted into an expression, of what, exactly? Pain, anger, enthusiasm? I can't say. Nor can I say why he's chosen to ask me this question. Has he mistaken me for a fellow Patriots fan? It is the Friday before Super Bowl XXXIX, which this year features the Philadelphia Eagles and the New England Patriots, and we are at The Landing in downtown Jacksonville, a sort of outdoor mall and plaza that has already become the alcohol-fueled core of the three-day pregame party both sets of fans will take part in. Almost everyone here has some sort of identifying mark, whether it's a hat, T-shirt, team jersey, or otherwise. Two guys with actual Eagles football helmets drink their beer through straws. Dozens of grown men in green face-paint high-five each other upon passing. Those who don't are local residents who've come down to join the party or check out the scene. I, in contrast, have nothing on that would indicate I'm for either team. I'm as neutral as neutral can be. Maybe that's why this guy has chosen to get in my face. He needs me to declare my allegiance one way or the other. Friend or foe? I don't know, but I do know that as the question hangs there between us a palpable tension grows. He's shirtless. He's drunk. He's right in my face. The reason I'm nose to nose with the face-painter is because I'm an idiot. Not in the same way that he's an idiot, exactly, but an idiot nonetheless. Ever since I was, maybe, five, I've been addicted to sports. I played them all. I watched them all. Football, baseball, basketball, hockey, tennis, golf, badminton, pro wrestling- for chrissakes, my brother and I followed Australian Rules football on ESPN before the network could afford real programming. I've watched not just the Grey Cup, the Canadian Football League version of the Super Bowl, but regular-season games as well; at one point I could name the starting lineup of the Montreal Alouettes. I was never a total stat nerd, but by second grade I'd mastered the calculus of scoring a tennis match. By third grade, I could tell you all the divisions and conferences of all the major sports, how their playoffs worked, where the wildcard teams came from, and how to calculate who had the home-field advantage. By fourth I understood that "questionable" meant a player had a 50 percent chance of playing, while "doubtful" dropped the odds to 25 percent. Most kids pined for Christmas; I loved early spring and midfall. In spring, baseball returned, basketball and hockey moved into the playoffs, and college basketball reached its seasonal climax. In October, the NFL was going strong, college football bustled with rivalries and showdowns, baseball played out its bittersweet endgame, and the NBA and NHL began to rev up. The virtual orgy of sports was-and still is-a sports fanatic's dream come true. Growing up in northern New Jersey I developed deeply felt regional allegiances. Giants, Yankees, Rangers, Knicks. (This was a typical trend along the ConnecticutWestchesterNew Jersey axis.