By Christopher Glotfelty

During my trips to ballparks such as Wrigley Field, Fenway Park, the original Yankee Stadium and Camden Yards, I’ve met my fair share of diehard fans. They are often some of the most knowledgeable baseball eccentrics on the planet, sometimes a tad “off,” but always head-over-heels for their favorite team. I especially admire the ones that structure their days around game times, canceling appointments and rescheduling meals if need be. As I get older, I realize that I’m morphing into one of these people, as I’ve slowly slipped into the transparently sad state of living vicariously as a scout for the Dodgers organization. Of course, the McCourts have no idea who I am, but I’m sure I could impress them if they’d just give me 10 minutes. That’s it.

We all have our own ways of expressing our love for our favorite teams. I do a few things that aren’t just odd, but a bit reprehensible. I unflappably wear my Dodger hat in cities that have bad history with the team (San Francisco, Philadelphia, Chicago); I ask girls I meet if they can name the Dodgers’ starting lineup (then let out an audible sigh when they can’t); I cast my friends in an unfavorable light for refusing to drop what they’re doing to watch the game at my house; I write for a Dodger newsletter. These are the displays of affection that set my fandom apart from others’. I’d love to hear some from our readers, but that will have to wait until later in the season. For the purposes of this list, I’ve compiled five traits that are particular to the countless Dodger psychotics.

1. You own a Dodger jersey.

This is a harmless purchase on the surface, but I can’t shake the idea that one can wear a team’s authentic jersey, yet not actually have a spot on the roster. When I played organized sports I reveled in the fact that I was only one of 10-20 guys that could dress that way at any particular time. In retrospect I was way off base, as coaches and team moms purchased the uniforms from mass distributors. Unshaken, I quietly touted that level of perceived exclusiveness. When I realized it was all a farce, I started examining people who wear team jerseys, finding a wealth of amusement in the ones at Dodger Stadium. I spot that glimmer in their eye and can tell they’re thinking, “If Loney goes down with an injury I’ll just have to jump over that this and take his place.” And then that same guy is seen an inning later spilling ketchup and relish on the expensive polyester.

2. You call in to sports talk radio to discuss the team.

I’ve always been a fan of sports radio, one of the reasons being the vapid/enraged/bored individuals that feel the need to get in their two cents over the airwaves. Sometimes I suspect my own father and friends of doing this – I just see that anger brewing inside of them; they need a platform, no matter how temporary or useless. You know the people (or maybe you’re one of them) who jump up and down in front of the television screaming about a bonehead play or call? They yap and say that they could do a better job. These are the tortured souls that call “Mike & Mike” at four in the morning complaining about Manny Ramirez’s dreadlocks.

3. You listen to Vin Scully on the radio…while at the game.

My favorite fans – by far. I don’t know anybody who actually does this, but I usually notice a couple per game I attend. They’re always alone, and never seem all that entertained. Nevertheless, they do appear at peace, only wishing to remain undisturbed. I can’t quite describe their aura. To them, it’s just, “I’ve got Vinny, my favorite team and a view. Now leave me alone.” These guys are relics. If you find one that is also keeping score with a pencil, call the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles and have them put in a display case.

4. You draft as many Dodgers as possible in fantasy baseball.

This will only be my second year playing fantasy baseball, but even in my rookie season I wanted at least one Dodger on my team. I mean, if I’m going to watch all 162 of their games, I might as well increase the layers of enjoyment (and my bank account, since I play in paying leagues, like a true dork). I didn’t end up with one Dodger last year, and it was a drag. However, I’m smart enough to know that drafting a bulk of Dodgers won’t get me far. In a 12-team league with a 23-man roster, at least 75 percent of your players should be All-Star caliber. Is that the case with the Dodgers? Maybe so, but times are tough and I’ll pass on Rafael Furcal for the sake 20 bucks. Sorry, Raffy.

5. You proposed to your girlfriend on the Dodger JumboTron (or plan on doing so).

Truthfully, I’m a bit confused by this whole enterprise, considering the women never look disappointed. The bride-to-be will flash her man an affectionate smile while he struggles to get on one knee — amid the limited space between rows — all the while balancing a beer in between his elbow fat. And she’s always shocked, and on a cloud nine, as if she’s waited her entire life for this day. Really? You wanted your wedding proposal visible to 60,000 strangers, at Dodger stadium, where your moment of happiness is probably the tenth most interesting thing to happen that night, right behind the free rally towel you got just for showing up? In a way, I envy these people, since I would love my future wife to share in each of my obsessions. But as I trudge through beleaguered relationships and unfortunate dates, I’ve lowered my expectations. I’m happy when I’ve met a girl that simply understands that baseball is a game played between two opposing teams. “So, one team hits a ball with a bat, and the other team tries to stop it?” she’ll ask. “Yep, that’s pretty much it.” That’s love. But I’m a realist. A mate willing to sit through 162 games a year, watching the same players over and over? No way – not yet. Maybe I’ll find her on my third marriage – and I’ll propose to her on that stupid big screen.