Then the founder died.  [...]]]>

I used to have a favorite restaurant.  They had the best pizza in town.  I grew up on the place – went there with family, bragged about it to friends, and went to great lengths (and expense) to eat that pizza even after I moved away from my hometown.

Then the founder died.  His kids had different visions of the future.  One wanted to expand into a regional chain.  One wanted to focus on delivery and carry-out.  Another wanted to sell the property to build a strip mall.  As they bickered and struggled, the pizza suffered.  The service was still good – they always cared – they just struggled to deliver a good product consistently.

Meanwhile, there was another excellent pizza place in town.  It was probably just as good all along, but I’d almost always eaten at the first place, out of loyalty and tradition.  But after enough undercooked or overcooked pizzas, I started going to the other place more often.  And it was good.

I didn’t eat at the first place for a long time.  I missed it, but didn’t miss getting my hopes dashed every time the pizza was “a bad one.” The memories weren’t the same, but the meal was a heck of a lot better.

Eventually, the family worked out its issues.  They hired someone competent to run the kitchen put the focus back on the product, and I began to hear that the pizza was as good as ever.  I tried it, and was pleasantly surprised.  A second time – same great pizza.  Now, I’m back to my old place, every time I visit my hometown.

Tell me:  Am I a bandwagon pizza fan?  Why shouldn’t I do the exact same thing with baseball?

I was at the Cubs-Rockies game in Denver Saturday – 48,000+ fans, all actually following the game, and having a much better time than anyone I’ve seen at GABP in a long time.  Why shouldn’t I follow a competitive, entertertaining club, until the Reds eventually ever get their act together?  Why am I still paying for the baseball equivalent of burnt pizza?