-When Penn clinched the league championship my sophomore year of college, fans rushed the football field and tore down the goalposts.  When security locked the gates of the stadium, we used one of the uprights as a battering ram to plow our way through, at which point I fell and was almost trampled to death.  A few months later, when the basketball team clinched a berth in the NCAA Tournament, we rushed the court, at which point I was again trampled, this time dislocating my shoulder.  These incidents taught me two things.  One, I’m not a very good field/court rusher.  And two, “supporting the team” is probably one of the most exhilarating, addictive, and sometimes downright dangerous activities that a twentysomething can engage in.  But I can’t help it if I’m hooked.  My name is Aaron Karo, and I’m a sports fan.

-I am a Yankees fan, as is my father, and as was his father before him.  Therefore, I hate the Red Sox.  Hate, hate, hate them.  I don’t even like when my phone rings and a 617 area code comes up.  However, I will say that I’m very jealous of Red Sox Nation for winning it all in 2004.  I mean, it must have felt so good to bust that 86-year-old nut.  I’m guessing it probably felt like back in the day when you were afraid to masturbate at summer camp so you held out for eight weeks until you got home and then let loose.

-In 2000, I was desperate to get tickets for the Subway Series between the Yankees and Mets, but the line was busy for hours.  So I decided to try something I saw on TV once – only I didn’t quite think the whole plan through first.  I called the operator and was like, “Operator, operator!  I need an emergency breakthrough!”  And she was like, “OK sir, right away, what’s the number?”  And I was like, “Uh…1-800-555-TIXX?”

-Everybody has that one male friend who knows nothing about sports.  I actually have two: Chi and Big Dave.  I’m not sure what they were doing between the ages of six and sixteen, but it clearly wasn’t assembling and memorizing the entire ’87 Topps baseball card set with the wood paneling background, like I was.  What losers.  Non-sports-fan guys sometimes try to fake it but are easily exposed.  Just ask them to get a score for you.  If they return with two digits but forget to say who’s winning or what quarter/period/inning it is, you’ve found yourself a childhood comic book collector.