In the National Football League, the Cleveland Browns have the loud and obnoxious Dawg Pound, the Green Bay Packers have the loud and obnoxious Cheeseheads, and the Buffalo Bills have the highest ratio of men with disgustingly huge “man boobs” going shirtless at winter home games.

English soccer hooligans are now banned from traveling out of the country because they regularly incite violence at international soccer matches.

But when it comes to baseball, fans are pretty much a quiet and respectful group, usually because they’ve fallen asleep from boredom after the third inning.

Unless you sit near Anthony Ercolano, a high-decibel fan of the Seattle Mariners.

Ercolano has a well-earned reputation as both the loudest and most annoying fan to sit in the bleachers, since he spends every home game shouting at the opposing players.

According to recent articles in the Seattle Times and Seattle Post-Intelligencer, Ercolano will yell at short batters to stand up. He asks young-looking players who they’re taking to the prom. He makes cry baby sounds when a player argues with the umpire. And — predictably — he even questions whether the ump has eyes.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. But the 44-year-old ex-Microsoft employee spent $32,000 on two Diamond Club season tickets — fifth row seats directly behind home plate — just so he can shower everyone with abuse during every Mariners home game.

Of course, one has to wonder how Ercolano became an ex-Microsoft employee in the first place.

Bill Gates: I’d like to welcome everyone to our monthly company-wide employees’ meeting.

Ercolano: Hey Gates, your glasses look dorky! G-a-a-a-a-a-tes, G-a-a-a-a-a-tes!

After four years (in which Ercolano only missed 15 games), the Mariners decided they’d had enough, so Executive Vice President Bob Aylward called Ercolano on the phone and asked him to keep it down or lose his season tickets.

So what did Ercolano do? Tone it down a bit? Hold up hand-painted signs instead? Use signal flags and flares to voice his opinion?

Of course not, this is America!

He filed a lawsuit at the end of August, claiming that his First Amendment rights were violated, and his season ticket contract may have been breached.

As a journalist, I am never, ever in favor of violating anyone’s First Amendment rights. That’s what makes this country so great — being able to voice one’s opinion about things like “people who constantly shout at baseball games are loud-mouthed jerks and should be flogged.”

However, while the US Constitution guarantees Ercolano a right to free speech, it doesn’t require everyone else to listen. So it’s not a matter of whether he can do this at all (he can), it’s more a question of “does he have to do this all the time at EVERY freakin’ game?!”

“Really, what he wants is to be free of harassment, and he’d like an apology from the Mariners,” Paul Meiklejohn, Ercolano’s attorney, told the Seattle Times. “He feels that he spent a lot of money for these tickets…and he didn’t expect to be belittled.”

Whether Ercolano feels it or not, he DID spend a lot of money — $16,000 per ticket — the same as everyone else in the Diamond Club. Those fans also have a right to be free of harassment and Ercolano’s unimaginative, sophomoric banter ringing in their ears, don’t they?

And if you want to be nitpicky, he wasn’t really belittled, since Aylward’s request was made privately over the phone. The only thing that happened, according to Ercolano himself, is that he was asked to keep it down.

If the Mariners’ scoreboard had displayed messages that said Ercolano behaves like a spoiled brat to overcompensate for his small male anatomy and that he still wets the bed, THAT would have been belittling. Instead Aylward only asked him to shut up and let others enjoy the game.

Ercolano’s lawsuit asks that the Mariners be prevented from removing him from any games or revoking his 2003 season tickets. And of course, he is seeking “unspecified monetary damages.”

But Ercolano’s lawsuit did not ask other Diamond Club fans to refrain from pummeling him mercilessly, so there may be new developments to this story next season.

Meiklejohn also told the Times that Ercolano’s enjoyment “…is in the baseball game and cheering and teaching his girls about the game.”

Just what exactly is he teaching them about baseball by being this obnoxious?

Ercolano: Okay honey, when this guy comes up to bat, yell “I’ve seen rusty gates swing better” just like daddy taught you.

At least Ercolano has some standards. He says he follows three rules when yelling at the opposing team. He never uses foul language, never comments on a player’s low batting average, and he never insults a player’s family.

But commenting on their height or physical appearance is fair game? Why is the guy who feels belittled fighting for his right to belittle others? It sounds like Ercolano can dish it out, but can’t take it, and doesn’t think he should have to.

So how would he feel if someone like Yankee slugger Jason Giambi shouted comments back at him before cracking a couple foul tips his way? Angry? Vindicated? Or like he needs to have a baseball removed from his teeth?

What’s really sad about all this is Ercolano’s heckling is so juvenile and inane, it’s like the cracks we made in middle school: stupid, pointless, and painfully immature. We actually quit making “stand up” jokes to short people by the time we were 12 because it got old after the 20th time. Is it even possible for a grown man to make cry baby sounds at other grown men without sounding like a complete moron?

What’s worse is that Ercolano has filed a lawsuit which could completely change the standards of free speech in this country, just so he can make comments that have all the creativity and maturity of “what did you eat under there?”

Instead he should stick with the classics, like “we want a pitcher, not a belly itcher.”

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On a recent trip to Vegas, yeah Vegas baby, I had the opportunity to share insight to a troubled man’s life. He was in bad shape from what I could put together.

First of all, he lost his shirt in the casino. This was obvious to me because he was wearing nothing but a jacket and tie. because, you see, he lost his shirt.

I asked him if he was going to be okay, because frankly, I didn’t want to take care of him. But I was willing to listen. So I did.

From his accent, I guessed he was from Boston, or in that area. I was right. He was from ‘in that area.’ Being one for one, I guessed his last name was Kennedy. Wrong. Being one for two, I guessed he was a democrat. Right. Being two for three, he interrupted me and said, “Will you let me tell my story?” So I shut up.

He told me his 20-year-old daughter just had her second child. She was born at noon, which was weird because it was 11:30. Apparently, the father took off, leaving her with two children to care for. And to make it worse, the children had two different fathers.

“She’s never going to find a decent man,” he said. I thought to myself, ‘yep.’

Because the way I see it, no matter how perfect she is, there is no way I could ever see myself falling in love with a woman like this. Twenty years old with two children, from two different fathers? No way.

And I know what some of you are thinking, so stop it.

My thinking is, these two children don’t look like each other. And if I date their mother, neither one would look like me. It would be awkward.

Because if we ever had a child, then our child would not look like her other kids, which would make me eligible for the job of spokesperson for Skittles, taste the rainbow. We’d have a band of different colors.

I explained this logic to the man, and he punched me in the face. I asked, “What was that for?” “I was referring to the thought that guy’s would use her,” he said. “Now you tell me this angle?” he continued. I began to understand.

To secure his thinking, I informed him that she’d probably be used in the near future. He smiled and bought me a drink.

There was a brief silence, so I asked a question. “Do you live in a compound?” He replied, “My last name is not Kennedy!” More silence.

Our remaining time together was silent. It was a comfortable silence…the chairs were leather. He left when he was paged over the intercom.

“We found a shirt by the craps table. I repeat, we found a shirt by the craps table.” “That’s me,” he said.

I love meeting new people.

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So anyways, I thought I’d take a minute and roughly 800 words here to describe all of the neat and interesting things that have been happening around this place lately…but after some careful outlining, I noticed that it would be much easier to just vent and talk about all of the crap that these people have been doing to drive me crazy instead! I know, I started off saying that I’d try my best to keep cool and be the nice guy throughout the game, but I figure that since I’ve already made it this far, I’m owed a little time to vent!

First of all, and maybe some of you voters out there have already realized this – what happened to all of the chicks in this game?!?!? It wasn’t made easy for us guys in the beginning anyways, with a 2:1 ratio coming into the office, but now there are TWO of them and FIVE of us, and even that’s being lenient – I haven’t seen Layton around this place for ages, yet she’s still alive and kicking with the voters…maybe she’s locked herself in the bathroom again or something. Granted, other than in the executive steam room, there really aren’t many places around here for us to ogle their bosoms with authority gasp in awe at their breathtaking beauty, charm and everlasting grace, but come on – throw us a bone already…

I’ve also got an issue with some missing office supplies, which I know I can’ttechnically hold anybody accountable for because I stole them first, but it’s still rough when you’d like to jot down a funny idea and you can’t seem to find your lucky pen anywhere! Just between you and me, though, I’m starting to wonder if there might be vermin of some sort running around this place…it would explain how Greg was able to rent the entire building for months on end…and what’s been happening to our leftovers from dinner that somehow don’t happen to beleftover the next morning – maybe we’ll have to let Gertie off the hook on that one after all! Wait, what was that?!?!? Did you see that? Either somebody’s grown a tail, or we’ve got a bigger problem here than we thought…

And then there’s the fax machine… Now it would be one thing if someone were to jam the fax machine, as this has undoubtedly happened to the best of us, but we’re not lucky enough for something like that to have happened. No, I seem to be stuck in an office with somebody who has managed to lose the fax machine – yeah, that big, bulky, seconds as a printer/copier/industrial-size-paperweight/doorstop/anything-else-that-you-might-need-something-that-friggin’-huge-for thing. I like to consider myself a guy that’s fairly easy to get along with, but when I can’t fax nude-y pictures to my buddies or get my latest inspiration from the Soufflé of the Month Club, I become a less-than-happy islander if you catch my drift! I mean, go ahead and lose the stapler or the three-hole punch or even the Evian guy – I’ll somehow manage to get by, but now we’re treading on thin ice, baby…

I suppose, though, despite all of the hardships that we’re having to endure on a daily basis, I think I could still manage to stick around to be the winner of this thing, if that’s ok with all of you! Erik and I have switched sports and now have a wicked tournament of paper football going on – the loser has to write the winner’s columns for a month, so that oughta be interesting…I sometimes can’t even get my own done on time, let alone somebody else’s. Even that’s getting a little fishy, though, as I think that somehow steroids were involved in his latest victory…alliance my ass!

So to end today’s report, for the most part, all is still well on the island. Apparently nobody ever told the caterers that our numbers have decreased from 19 down to 7, but I’m certainly not complaining…you can never have too many barbecued shrimp…

Until next time, keep your stick on the ice and my name off your ballots! Good day.

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Lately, Kate’s life had been quite hectic with work, kids and home. It seemed every time she turned around there was a problem to solve, a deadline to meet or an event to attend.

Kate needed to unwind and finally found a moment to herself. Fifteen minutes ago her husband loaded up the kids in the car to go to the grocery store to pick up some items.

By the time Kate put ice in a glass and filled it with juice, the phone rang. It took Kate fifteen minutes to direct her boss to a specific file, which was needed for a client.

As Kate hung up the phone, the washing machine stopped. Kate ventured into the laundry room and lifted the lid of the washer. When she went to pick up some of the clothes to put into the dryer, something was terribly wrong.

Apparently every article of clothing was twisted and hung up in her bra and her bra was wrapped around the middle part of the washing machine.

Twenty minutes later the clothes were finally unraveled and spinning quietly in the dryer.

At this point, Kate was getting a bit frustrated. As she made her way back into the kitchen, she found the drink to be watered down so she opted for a cold canned cola.

However, Buster, her four-footed Golden Lab, came up to her to let Kate know in his own special ‘dog’ way that he needed to go out.

Sighing heavily, Kate grabbed the leash off of the hook in the kitchen pantry and took Buster outside to visit Mother Nature.

Fifteen minutes later they both went back into the house. Kate gave Buster a bone and sent him to the back porch area to play with his toys.

As Kate popped opened the canned cola, took a drink and began the short journey from the kitchen to her favorite chair to relax and lose herself in a book, her husband and two children blasted into the house.

“Look what we got for you to cook tonight, Mommy,” exclaimed Kate’s youngest with glee.

Kate’s family didn’t know why Kate burst into tears as she ran into the bedroom and threw herself onto the bed.

Kate’s husband wondered if it were hormones or if he had done something wrong.

Kate’s children wondered if she had watched ‘Steel Magnolias’ again or if they had done something wrong.

Kate wondered what was wrong with the world and why God couldn’t understand that she just needed a little peace and quiet.

And God wondered why everyone dumped grief on him when it clearly stated, years and years ago, on the seventh day…God rested.

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