Trietley: Judging the first ever Extra Man Clash

Football has the 12th man. Basketball has the sixth man. Baseball has the bullpen catcher. Every sports fan likes to think he or she influences the game in some way.

Some fans wave towels. Other fans bang Thundersticks. There are whiteouts, blackouts, red-outs and pink-outs.

But what communal crowd act is the best? It’s time to find out with the first ever Extra Man Clash.

Eight competitors meet in the battle of personified crowd noise and color schemes. In the classic bracket sit the towels, pompoms, regular hands and foam hands. In the zany bracket sit the cowbells, color-outs, Thundersticks and empty seats.

In our first match-up, towels take on cowbells. Proponents of cowbells think they can save their voice at football games by clanking the things instead of screaming. But towels win this showdown. Fans should use their outdoor voices at sporting events and not something they stole from their last trip to the petting zoo. Less cowbell.

Towels can be very distracting for the opposition. When Chicago White Sox fans waved white towels and wore all black last postseason, players on the Twins and Rays complained about their inability to see the ball against the swirling background.

Which brings us to the second bout: color-outs against pompoms. Color-outs win easily. If your desktop background isn’t the

Calgary Flames C of Red , it should be by the end of this sentence.

Pompoms can’t hold up against their tough opponents. In fact, they can’t hold up against anything — by the end of the game, pompoms usually turn into loose strands of plastic falling on your curly fries.

Thundersticks face hands in the third game. The most courageous man I ever met at a sporting event changed my view of Thundersticks. As fans incessantly banged their plastic balloons, he stood up, threw down his Thundersticks and shouted, “In my day we used our hands!” He then started a slow clap.

He might have been intoxicated, but his call for revolution stands. Hands were around before Thundersticks, and they’ll be here after they’re gone. Hands also can’t deflate. Perhaps Thundersticks will receive a second chance if the Rally Monkey comes back.

In the final first-round showdown, foam hands square up against empty seats. Empty seats win this one in an upset. The lack of people can actually be intimidating.

Think about it. Fans don’t show up to see bad opponents. A bowl of empty seats means that a road team is awful. Or that it’s the UFL. Either way, it psyches out the opposition.

Foam hands are cool, but they limit a fan’s ability to clap. Applauding while wearing a foam hand or two just results in a dull thud.

Towels, hands, color-outs and empty seats advance into the semifinals.

Color-outs defeat empty seats. Empty seats are fun — it’s much easier to catch a foul ball in Pittsburgh than in Boston — but, eventually, there are financial ramifications. The Phoenix Coyotes struggled to sell tickets and found themselves mired in relocation rumors. But they sold out their home opener Saturday with a whiteout promotion.

Towels take down hands. Towel waving is an art. Spin it incorrectly, and before you know it, you have it wrapped around your wrist. Spin it too wildly, and you hit the fan next to you.

Towels beware: A lone fan waving one is a depressing sight.

Color-outs and towels meet in the finals. Before they spar, towel proponents argue that “color-outs” is too wide a category. Should the C of Red and Missouri’s Gold Rush be in the same category? Do whiteouts and blackouts get along?

Towels lose the argument and the fight. There’s something about every fan wearing the same free shirt that unites people. If only you could kick out that one road fan wearing a lime green Seahawks jersey.

Plus, Pitt has the annual Pink the Pete, which not only brings out a big crowd but also raises awareness for breast cancer. Sorry Steelers fans, but the towels fall. Color-outs win.