Last night all the elements were there for electric drama. A young Rays team already having dropped a game at home. Their proverbial backs against the wall. A see-saw game of emotional ups and downs. Extra innings. Yet, as I watched on TV there was one thing missing. For some reason, the game lacked the energy that any game like the one last night should most definitely have had.
The reason: the crowd.
Simply put, the crowd sucked. Besides the cowbells and the awful signs and the general tourist perception that so many have of Rays fans, the problem we have is that we’ve heard PGA events hit higher decibel levels. Shhh, can you hear it? Exactly. Where the heck is the noise in this place? Here I am watching a team put on runners in the 9th and 11th innings in game 2 of the ALDS in a must-win game, and you can barely hear the crowd. It’s like they needed a cue from the scoreboard that said, “hey, your home team has a chance to win and tie this thing up with a few hits. Now might be a good time to make noise.” How is a domed stadium not absolutely deafening come league championship series baseball — particularly for a franchise like Tampa Bay?
And, no, this has nothing to do with judging the fans based on market size. I am not a Red Sox fan or anything like that. Like I said, I’m pulling for this Rays team to win the whole thing – ratings be damned. Yet, the pathetic showing of their fans give me pause. Rockies fans came off a bit like posers last year as well, but at least they made a little noise and brought some energy to the stadium.
So, Rays fans…should the series find its way back to St. Peter for a game six it might be time to show the country a little something. The Rayhawks are nice and all, but a little noise goes a long way towards helping your team. It also makes for a little more exciting viewing experience.
PS: Whoomp! There It Is? Sooo, not cool.
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About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.