Trust Your Child

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses – the tale of an actual Clippers fan

Growing up in Los Angeles as a sports fan is kind of a weird predicament. It’s arguably the #1 or #2 market in the United States (depending on your opinions on live theater and The Strokes), but it’s also a city where fans show up to baseball games in the 3^rd inning and sit courtside not for the view or intimacy, but rather to be noticed or wear sunglasses indoors. It’s a casual thing. Also, LA sports fans are the first to turn their backs on their “favorite team” when things look bleak. Hell, the Dodgers owners gave up on the team and started embezzling funds to pay for yachts, hire his sons for non-existent jobs and bankroll a lifestyle that Adrienne Maloof would find “over the top.” He even checked out. There’s a lot of talk here in Los Angeles when it comes to fandom, but not a lot of follow-through. And I’m all about the follow-through.

I was raised by two working class parents, never really worrying about where food or clothes would come from, but knowing there was a limit to what we could do, especially compared to many of my friends who’s last name was the same as some food in our cupboards. My father was a car salesman and my mom ran her own coupon magazine, and both supported my athletic attempts wholeheartedly, even though I was Jewish and, because of that, knew nothing would come of it. Baseball was my main focus, but basketball was a close second. I played James Naismith’s invention throughout my childhood and even made my freshman high school basketball team. I scored 3.4 points per game, which is so bad it would make me the NBA player with the shittiest Basketball Wife. But as a fan, with unachievable dreams to play professionally one day, my father and I loved going to see games together. Like a really cute bank commercial, we’d try and attend as many games as possible as a duo, rooting for our favorites – and sadly, one teams’ home games just weren’t possible for us.

Most people growing up in Los Angeles in the late 80’s were all about the Lakers, specifically Magic Johnson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Kurt Rambis’s goggles and the Showtime era, and for good reason. They were unstoppable, quite possibly the greatest team ever, which carried a ticket price that rivaled our house payment. I knew one kid who’s parents had season tickets (they then played at the Forum, which now rents itself out for Broom Ball), and they also had a tennis court and a Porsche (p.s. his father never really explained what he did for a living, until one day we found closets full of porn tapes and realized his occupation was “home video distribution”). This type of spending just wasn’t in line with my family’s capabilities, so when I really got the bug to see live basketball in 3^rd grade, my father responded with tickets to see Los Angeles’s ugly ginger stepson, a squad that moved here from San Diego in 1984 (like the most annoying guy in your office), the Clippers.

The Clippers were to Los Angeles basketball what Chris Kirkpatrick was to N*Sync. They were easily ignored, not very good and had dreads. Ok, they didn’t have dreads, that was only Kirkpatrick, but they were dreadful (PUN!). They didn’t even have their own arena (still don’t), they had/have to share with the prodigal sons, the Lakers. In 1987, they actually racked up the second-worst single season record ever and were just undeniably dismal. And luckily for me, that was the first season my father took me to see the Clippers in person.

Truth is, I never cared how awful they were. Most people went to games just to see other teams come to town, or the Lakers play for a cheaper ticket price. I went to cheer on my team. I think my dad even felt bad when the Clippers would get blown out by 20 points, but we’d go to a dozen or so games a year, undeterred, cheering blindly for a victory. I despised the Lakers and all the home video distributors that could afford to see their consecutive wins. When the Clippers traded for Ron Harper, I made my dad buy me his jersey. When they drafted Danny Manning I swore things would turn around. I did the same when they drafted Loy Vaught, Bo Kimble, Lorenzen Wright and Michael Olowokandi – each worse than the next. The Clippers ownership had a rare combination of bad decision-making and even worse luck (and reportedly racism, but let’s ignore that), and us die-hard fans just kept showing up, and kept swearing I’d never join the Lakers bandwagon, even when they signed one of my favorite players, Shaquille O’Neal, and signed a high school phenom that had the same name as my dog. Wearing my Clippers gear to school was the one thing that got me more jeers than my Cross Colours neon yellow Jorts. It was my Scarlet Letter.

As an adult, I stayed true to what was voted the “Worst Franchise In Sports” by Sports Illustrated. Even when I found myself with some money, I never went to Lakers games. I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’ve attended maybe 5 Lakers games at most. I wanted to see the Clippers I liked (i.e. Andre Miller, Brent Barry, Elton Brand, Darius Miles, Matt Fish, Marko Jaric, Sam Casell, Tim Thomas), who just all magically seemed to become horrible at basketball when they put on our jersey. I just didn’t understand what God had against the Los Angeles Clippers and, more importantly, affordable ticket prices.

So when the 2012 season approached, after a lengthy lockout over contract negotiations, watching the Clippers finally execute front office trades and decisions with the fan in mind, I didn’t know what to do. They signed all-star Caron Butler and traded for superstar Chris Paul, two moves to accent young dunker Blake Griffin and tall monster DeAndre Jordan. The Clippers became fun to watch and, according to Vegas odds, more likely to win the NBA Championship than the Los Angeles Lakers. We’re the team everyone is watching now. This would be like if Chris Kirkpatrick was the one engaged to Jessica Biel.

I know not to get my hopes up. I’ve felt optimistic before. I know to brace for the worst. But I did buy a 12 game package for this season, and that as a lucky move, because this is first season ticket totally sold out in the team’s history. In a crazy twist, these tickets would sell online for an amount my family couldn’t afford.

I love the Clippers. I love the pride I have in the only local team we could afford to see live. I love that I never jumped on the Lakers bandwagon. I stayed the course, complained a lot and just waited for the day that I’d hear people pretend they were fans all along. And that day has come.

I’m not mad at Los Angeles natives now pretending they’ve supported the team their whole lives. I almost envy them. They didn’t have to withstand the pain of trading away Tyson Chandler, banking on Eric Piatowski, waiting an hour for Benoit Benjamin’s autograph, buying a Marcus Camby jersey and rooting on a team you knew couldn’t win. They can just join in when it feels awesome. Maybe they’ll bring us the luck we need. I could never be the guy now mad that everyone is listening to Radiohead. In other words, we accept you all. No need to apologize. We’ve always been the friendly ones. When you’re watching the Clippers play this year, remember rooting for them is cheering for the little guy and the Lakers were always the guys from Entourage’s favorite team (and LMFAO apparently).

Tomorrow I will be attending the Clippers home opener at Staples Center with an optimism I haven’t had since my parents’ divorce (too much?). I can’t believe everyone will be cheering. I can’t believe I’m expecting a win. Throughout the 25 years that the Los Angeles Clippers have been my favorite basketball team, this will be the first time I’ll attend one of their games where the fans are truly excited. True statement. I’m ecstatic. Look for me, I’ll be the guy wearing sunglasses indoors.