The Death of the Boston Sports Fan?

Is this the obituary for the Boston sports fan? You know, the real fan who did the right thing? It just might be.

I haven't been to a Patriots game since they lost to the St. Louis Rams in 2001 (it was the last game that team lost on their way to the first Super Bowl). I'm not a Pats fan, and tickets are so hard to get, so whatever. But for the last few years you've heard some complaints about the crowd not being what it once was.

In the two games I went to this month, I'm thinking that comfort level has leaked into two other teams.

Earlier this month, I went to Game 3 of the ALCS. The game, frankly, stunk. The Sox lost, 9-1. The game was out of hand by the middle innings. It was a nice day in Boston, but by the 4:30 start time the wind was up and it was getting cool. By the middle innings, it was downright cold. Some fans -- likely people who never go to Fenway -- wore shorts or no heavy jackets. They were gone by the 6th. The exodus only picked up in the 7th and the 8th.

There's probably something to be said for leaving early when your team is getting smoked. But I'm willing bet for every person at that game (roughly 39,000), there were 100 who would gladly take their spot. Instead of sticking it out, it got awfully empty late. By the 9th, I was sprawled over about three rows and 10 seats. And no one was even close to me.

Of course, the big stories revolve around Game 5. Mayor Lisa Wong admitted -- awkwardly, uncooly -- at last week's press conference that she left early. She tried to laugh it off, but it was a really uncomfortable moment. As Wong rambled on, Andy Roy (who went to another beating in Game 4) and I were not amused. On the other hand, by brother who also lives in Fitchburg stuck it out. He was a happy boy when he called me leaving the ballpark. Wong wasn't alone in doing the wrong thing. At least my brother did the right thing and was rewarded for it. How do you leave early what might have been the very last game of the season?

That brings me to last night, when the Celtics handed out rings and raised Banner 17 to the rafters. It seemed like a good crowd -- the place was packed in advance of the ceremony, and it was good and loud from the get-go. But the posers were outed halfway through the fourth quarter, when the place started to empty out. The Celts were only up by 6 or so at that point. The real drain began in the last two minutes, even with it being a one-possession game for much of that time. Yeah, it was 11 o'clock, and the national TV timeouts were painfully long, but it was the home opener for the defending world champions (no, I can't write or say that enough), and the place was more empty than full by the final buzzer. There wasn't even the usual backups on the stairways getting out.

Outside of New England, the sports world hates our guts. Our teams win, a lot, to the point where we shrug off an ALCS appearance as nice, but not really special. Last night's display was really lame. It would be borderline for the Bobcats in January. But the Cavs on banner night? Good Lord.

It's frustrating to have to clear out a winter weekend and hope you get lucky just to get two crappy seats to a crappy mid-week Sox game. I can't remember the last time I went to a weekend game for the Sox, tickets are so hard to get. It stinks that Mrs. Save Fitchburg and I spent a good hour poring over the Celtics schedule and made a gameplan just short of D-Day to score three or four Celtics games this year. It stinks to beg, borrow and steal your way into a legitimate, unqualified Big Game, and see the collective crowd treat it like just another random game.

So, this month may have signaled the death of the old Boston fan. The ones who didn't stay late at Fenway just to sing "Sweet Caroline." The ones who stuck it out just because that's what you do. The ones who appreciated the moment, the opportunity, and the specialness of the times.