Wednesday, I went to a minor league baseball game in Hagerstown, Maryland to see Washington Nationals phenom Stephen Strasburg as he rehabs following Tommy John Surgery last September. What I saw, including a rough 1.2 IP from Strasburg, was incredibly frustrating. Hitters swinging early in counts. Pitchers locating fastballs up in the zone. Terrible coaching on the basepaths (really, on a 50-50 ball in the OF, it’s okay to send the runner from second when you’re up 8-5 in the third inning). But more than what I saw, it was what I heard that left me frustrated.

Yes, the biggest problem with minor league baseball is the “fans.” I consider myself to be a bit of a baseball fan. Accordingly, I feel as though those who consider themselves fans of a game should know at least a little bit about what they’re watching. And yet, I never get that feeling at minor league games. People seem to be there for the beer, as though they couldn’t get a 12 pack of Yuengling and sit on their decks for the same price as a ticket and one beer. People also seem to be there to act boorish, which is troublesome for a number of reasons.

About a month ago, I dragged Amanda (literally, it was very disturbing) to Bowie, Maryland to see the Harrisburg Senators and the Bowie Baysox, but mainly to see Bryce Harper, the Nationals top organizational prospect and, depending on who you ask, baseball’s top prospect. What I encountered at this game was a handful of adults (men and women in their 30s and older) who found it entirely necessary to yell, berate, and mock an 18 year old kid. Screams of “You’re worthless!” and “You suck!” rained down on Harper. Boos followed him wherever he went and with whatever he did. People have issues with Harper’s seeming lack of maturity. I find it ironic that those same people find it mature to taunt someone who is barely old enough to buy a lottery ticket. I found myself wondering aloud what one particular “fan” would tell his coworkers the next day. “Aw, dudez, you should have seen how I was yelling at that 18 year old kid. Sure he possesses more talent than all of us combined. Sure he’s only 18. Sure I paid to see him play. But man, he could totally hear me when I told him he should give his money back to the Nationals after he grounded out. It was awesome!” High fives and fist pounds abound. Harper went 2-4 with 2 doubles in the game. I doubt that the grown ups who heckled him did much better that day at their jobs.

Wednesday night, I got to experience more of this. In abundance in fact. Most of the fan hatred was directed towards “Old Blue.” Umpires, especially in A-ball, are by and large very inconsistent, at best. And sometimes even I find myself blurting out “how was that a strike?” or “Where’d that miss?” loud enough for the umpire to hear me. What I cannot stand, however, is the constant chirping on every pitch from fans. And not from children. Grown men. Very grown men. Wednesday night there was a group of senior citizens heckling the home plate umpire (challenging his manhood…classy!) and players in both organizations.

You’ll notice that I didn’t refer to the Hagerstown Suns or the Lexington Legends as “teams.” This is because, as far as I’m concerned, they are not. They are members of an organization. In this case, the Washington Nationals and the Houston Astros. Fans at minor league games, though, do not seem to understand that. They get angry when a pitcher comes out of a game early because he’s on a pitch count. They get angry when guys aren’t stealing bases or railroading the opposing catcher. And in turn, they make me angry. They make me angry because I go to watch development. I go to see how far along pitchers are in developing anything outside of a fastball/slider. I go to watch hitters learn how to hit. I go to watch and enjoy baseball in a very organic way. I do not go to minor league baseball games to listen to uninformed analysis, listen to drunk people, watch drunk people, and witness unfair treatment of kids, in front of younger kids. The behavior of some adults at minor league baseball games embarrasses me and makes me wonder what fandom will be like when I’m 20 years older.

When I was young, my grandfather took me to a Pawtucket Red Sox game every couple of weeks. This happened for years. He was a shining example of behavior for me. He cheered for the team he was rooting for (the PawSox), never booed anyone, cheered when the opposing team made a good play, yielded to pedestrians in the parking lot, threw out his food containers, wore his seat belt, and drove home safely. He helped instill a love of baseball in me. My grandfather was never the stat head that I am. He never followed every team in the game, like I do, carving out time in his daily schedule to watch the Houston Astros because Jordan Lyles (or his Jordan Lyles equivalent) was pitching. He just really enjoyed baseball. Enjoyed the atmosphere. Enjoyed the effort. Enjoyed the game. And at the base level of my love of baseball is that same feeling of enjoyment. If you take away the BABIP, the OPS +, and the FIPs, you get an appreciation of the game. My grandfather taught me this, whether it was his intention or not. I hope there are some parents and grandparents out there who can do the same for today’s young Jasons.