This is about being a lady sports fan
You don’t need to take more than one glance at my social media presence to see that I’m a Toronto Blue Jays fan. And that I’ve got a filthy pervert mouth. And that I use my filthy pervert mouth to talk about my favourite sports team. That’s who I am. I’m a comedian, who thinks it’s funny to talk about poo, farts, butts, boners, pussies, pussy boners, pussy farts, boner farts, butt farts, poo farts, pussy poo (???). My Twitter bio reads:
You should already get the hint that maybe what I’m putting out there is mostly pure nonsense. One of my favourite things is watching a Jays game with Twitter on somewhere in the background, so I can scroll through the Jays-related Tweets from the people I follow, whether they’re friends, sports commentators, athletes themselves, or other fans. People I follow. People whose profiles I looked at, scrolled through, deemed fun, interesting, informative or all of the above, so I followed them. Funny how Twitter works, huh? There’s literally millions of people on it, but you get to choose who you want to see content from. Another one of my favourite things is to tweet along, my own monster thoughts. And the people who follow me, the people who looked at MY profile, scrolled through, deemed ME fun, interesting, informative of all of the above, see what crazy gross thing popped into my head.
But in the past 2 weeks, I’ve had several people respond to some of my Tweets in a way that I can only really describe as having caused a bee to fly in their bonnet. Nothing overly aggressive or straight-up fucking rude (*shudder* yet), but still enough of a response to get me going “Slow your roll, bish.” Or in the words of sweet, beautiful, brilliant Jose Bautista:
All of them were unique in their own, sweet, patronizing way, but the one thing they all had in common were that they all came from men. Men who were sitting at home, trying to enjoy the game (just like me) on Twitter, actively seeking things to comment on. Which is fair game, that’s the Internet. But you get no sympathy from me and you absolutely will not get an apology either. I will not apologize that my dumb jokes aren’t what you want to read when you click on a fucking hashtag that millions of people include in their Tweets. I’m not forcing anyone to read my dumb shit, so don’t act like you’re being put upon when your delicate man-eyes see some naughty words coming from my account. That’s why they give you the option of Following or Unfollowing people, so you can curate your timeline to suit your shitty, fuddy-duddy taste.
Now, is it completely fair to say they responded to me only because I was a female? In some cases yes, in some cases maybe, in some cases FOR SURE YES. And that’s one of the most frustrating things about being a female sports fan. To many, none of my opinions matter more than the fact that my opinions are attached to my vagina.
Things that also happen to me more than I like and it may or may not (for sure may, FOR SURE MAY!) have something/anything to do with my gender:
-getting told to feel a certain way about something about the game
-being told “you just don’t get it” simply because I never played baseball
-having my real opinions, not jokes, be casually shrugged off because I’m “silly” and “gross”
-being talked down to, like I don’t watch every game, listen to all the commentary, read as many articles I can, watch documentaries, read books, listen to podcasts and sports talk radio (WHICH IN AND OF ITSELF IS A GODDAMN MIRACLE THAT ANY ONE CAN DO)
-someone actually having a real conversation with me but then expecting me to agree with what they’re saying and then getting annoyed that I don’t
Sure, my Twitter feed is sexually deviant at best and sexually obnoxious at worst, but hey, man, that’s how I chose to fill the space I chose to occupy on my teenie, tiny part of the web. I say some very silly things and I say a lot of really disgusting things, because it makes me laugh. And I hope it makes you laugh because you know the difference between a joke and… not a joke. And if it doesn’t… GET TO STEPPIN, SON. Also don’t give me that shit about “You’re objectifying men” blah blah blah. I’ll stop “objectifying” grown millionaire athletes, when I can walk down the street day or night and not have to worry about if what I’m wearing will attract any kind of attention. Or at least when I can tweet the word “thick butt” without someone getting their dick in a fucking tizzy.
Behind all the exploding genitals, there’s a fan who loves her team so much. I’ve grown to really love the sport of baseball and the Blue Jays. I have a very real respect and admiration for this team, so much so, that it really bothers me when anyone doubts that. I love talking about baseball. I love learning a new rule, or discovering a new player, or reading about the history of another team, or comparing Mike Trout to Josh Donaldson and who should be MVP (OBVIOUSLY DONALDSON, YOU DUMMY). BUT HEY GUESS WHAT. You know why I’m not listing off stats or analyzing players performances and blah blah blah? BECAUSE IT GETS DONE FOR ME BY SOMEONE ELSE. And guess what? Yeah, I listen to Baseball Central with Jeff Blair and Kevin Barker, I watch Blue Jays Central with Jamie Campbell and Gregg Zaun, I read that Shi Dividi article, and I know full well you’re just repeating what they say. So at least I’m saying something different. It’s gross, but I can guarantee no one’s said the words “Buehrle” and “pussy” in the same sentence more than me.
Also where the fuck were all these haters at the beginning and middle of the season, when the Jays weren’t tearing it up? When they were middle of the road, struggling, or straight-up garbanze? I never heard a peep from anyone then.
So who’s the real fan, there, pal?
Also GO, JAYS GO!