Sun Destined To Shine On Pride’s Celebration
It was cloudy in June 1984, when the first Long Beach Lesbian & Gay Pride Parade stepped off, on its way to the first festival......................[more]

A Pinch of Salt by Harry Saltzgaver

I can’t recall the last time I had so much fun watching a golf tournament on television.

We could debate the merits of watching golf on television at all, but that’s another story. What I’m talking about is the joy of watching Paul Goydos stroll down the TPC Sawgrass course in Florida, leading the field in the prestigious Players Championship.

I could extol Goydos’s many admirable qualities — his self-deprecation, his sense of humor, his workman-like approach, the Cinderella aspect — and those would have been more than sufficient reason to root for him. But that wasn’t really my motivation.

I was emotionally invested because he was wearing a Long Beach State hat.

I’ve never met Paul Goydos, but I have a connection with him. He comes from my adopted hometown, he played for my adopted university. He’s on my team. Or more properly, I’m on his team.

His success felt like my success. And believe me, he was a success, even when his first shot in the playoff plunked in the water short of the island green on No. 17.

It’s the same phenomenon that makes professional sports, spectator sports of all shapes and sizes (to steal a quote from Karl Marx) the opiate of the masses. I might not be able to hit a 95-mile-an-hour fastball or make an open-field tackle any more (if I ever could), but I can sure root for the home team.

The concept of team loyalty seems to be ingrained into the human psyche. Undoubtedly it goes back to the days of the clan — when survival of the family depended on the unquestioned loyalty of every member of that family.

That’s what makes the story of Cain and Abel so horrendous. Cain not only committed murder, he committed treason to the family (a staple of theatrical tragedy to this very day).

Team loyalty writ large is, of course, called patriotism. The upcoming 2008 Summer Olympics will see plenty of the good, bad and ugly of that sort of team loyalty as we range from friendly rivalry to jingoistic rhetoric. It all comes down to, “I relate to that athlete because they come from the same country I do.”

You can bet that I’m going to pay more attention to women’s beach volleyball than, say, men’s basketball in the upcoming Olympics. Why? Because Misty is playing, of course. I might, and probably will, root for the U.S.A. in any number of sports, but I know Long Beach’s Misty May-Treanor. I’ve talked to her, and she still calls my hometown her hometown.

In my own mind, I’ll be able to say, “Play Misty, for me.”

I like to think I keep my fanaticism to a manageable level — I don’t paint my face the team colors, or run out and buy the team boxer shorts. I’ll admit to arranging my schedule around Denver Broncos games, at least in the John Elway era, but I didn’t miss church for a game even back then.

Goydos struck a chord in my heart and the hear of many, not just because of his many admirable qualities, but because he comes from here. The thrill I felt for his success after so many years of relative mediocrity (very relative — no one playing on the PGA tour is mediocre, believe me), was, I think, a celebration of connection.

The vicarious thrill of sports loyalty might be a manifestation of something more primal. But in this case, at least, it was just plain fun.

Thanks, Paul. You did yourself, and Long Beach, proud.