I grew up with sports-loving parents. Oh, they loved me too, but it wasn’t the same. I was born a mere three years after the Seattle Mariners formed, and the Seahawks preceded them by just a year more. My infancy mirrored those two glorious franchises.

Of course, my toddler brain failed to wrap around the significance of these new regional teams. I ignorantly ignored their meaningful presence even while my parents would shutter themselves in house, willing their teams to victory (or not, as in the case of the Mariners).

Yet, I grew older. My lack of sports fandom did nothing to impede this inevitability. I had just turned 15. I had been to the old Kingdome before its implosion many times prior. I yelled — on one occasion, my brother and I yelled, “Go George!” (Ken Griffey, Jr.’s real first name) and he obligedly hit a homerun &mdash and acted the part of the fan, but a fan I was not. At 15, that all changed.

The Mariners had made their improbable run reality. Thirteen games back in early August erased. It all came down to one game, versus the California Angels. Former Mariner Mark Langston started for the opponent, while stars Ken Griffey, Jr., Edgar Martinez, Jay Buhner, and Randy Johnson all starred for us.

I didn’t know much of that then. As I said, I wasn’t a fan. But I became one that day. My father relayed the game’s significance by inviting us children into his room. We laid on his bed, on any other day strictly forboden. When Luis Sojo hit his bases clearing double (“Everybody scores!”), I jumped high into the air, unaware my feet had even touched the ground.

I had become a fan. The status was cemented days later when the Mariners overcame a two-game deficit in a best-of-five series versus the hated Yankees (besides the aforementioned Angels, the Yankees were the first time I youthfully hated). Edgar hit The Double and Griffey scored the winning run. A more magical moment is hard to imagine, mostly since it was my first magic moment.

I eventually added the Seahawks to my roster, then followed by (the later supplanted) the Sonics, and now the Sounders. The 2001 116-win Mariner season. Ichiro. Buhner/ARod/Olerud’s cycles. The 2005 Super Bowl (darn those zebras). Gary Payton & Shawn Kemp. Freddies Ljungberg & Montero. These are the players, seasons, and moments I have loved, rather traditionally and irrationally over the last near 15 years.

However, something has begun to creep into my sports fandom. As I mentioned, my regional sports love was rather traditional and irrational. Of course a love for a sports team is irrational, but with the onset of the sabermetric craze popularized by Moneyball and online fantasy sports, my fandom changed.

This post was largely inspired by Carson Cistulli’s article The Gambler and the Investor on FanGraphs. In it, Cistulli states that his emotional investment in baseball has changed over the years. He no longer lives and dies by the Red Sox (he chose a poor time to get over that fixation), but instead lives and dies by particular players — usually up-and-(not so)-comers. He hedges his bets a bit by casting a wide net, but nonetheless it’s the players who catch his interest. Thus it is with me.

Last year the Mariners lost 101 games while spending over $100 million, the first franchise in history to ever do that. The Seahawks lost 12 of their 16 games, losing many players to injury. But I watched both seasons, and in the case of the Seahawks, every game. Even though the Mariners horrid General Manager fielded a team of overpaid, horrid players, he also fielded Ichiro, Felix Hernandez, and Adrian Beltre. Even though Matt Hasselbeck and every single offensive lineman and wide receiver were injured, I found joy in watch Ray Willis, Jordan Kent, and Seneca Wallace excel.

With fantasy baseball and fantasy football, my focus has shifted from winners and losers and instead has shifted to performers. With the advent of advanced statistics in both sports freely available on the internet, it’s quite easy to determine who those performers are.

The Mariners will most likely not make the playoffs this season, but it has been a joy to watch. Franklin Gutierrez might be the best defensive center fielder and baseball and has a mighty fine stick to go along with his glove. Mike Carp’s two-week stint in the big leagues was great to watch because I was aware of his potential to perform. It didn’t matter whether the Mariners won, it was fun to see Carp and Gutierrez and the dozen other performers on the team.

Same goes with the Seahawks. I won’t bog you down in more individualisms, but if the Seahawks don’t perform as a team again this year, I have my list of players I’ll be watching and investing myself in.

Until one of my teams makes another magical run, I can’t be sure if I’ve irrevocable changed. Until I’m watching my team in the Super Bowl again or the World Series for the first time, I won’t be sure if I’ve just switched into survival mode. Perhaps I’m watching the players because if I’m too emotionally invested in teams that don’t perform, than I’m not too good either. Perhaps it will revert.

Or perhaps, I’ve evolved.

I took her old design out back, loaded two shells into the shotgun, shed a tear, and *KABLAMO* it was Ol’ Yeller time. Despite the death that heralded its incarnation, the new design rose like a phoenix and carries a strong bouquet of that new-site smell.

As of the time I’m writing this, Roxanne hasn’t yet finished putting up all of her content. She still has several hundred photos to upload and many blog posts to write. Still, you can marvel at the fantastic design.

So, get on over there, sign up for user accounts, and constantly harangue her for more blog posts and photo uploads!