General Cincinnati population, you so-called Reds fans, I'm ashamed of you.

Your exterior is admirable. You talk about Opening Day, stand close to the Hot Stove and talk about the year to come. You cry (or rather, whine) profusely about not getting Opening Day tickets. You camp out in the cold overnight at Fountain Square for a chance at some nosebleeds on March 31st.

You take off work, take the kids out of class and take them to a rather underwhelming parade. (Check out Harvest Home in the fall for a real parade.) You don your red and white (and black for the new-school fans) everything and attend opening day. You nudge your friends because you see Bob Huggins or Jack Ruby.

Then, you call it a day, place the Reds gear right next to the mittens and the undersized boxers you really think you're going to fit into by the fall and call it a year.

Monday's Opening Day attendance: 42,498.

Wednesday's attendance: 14,016.

No, the numbers aren't transposed. No, this isn't a Marlins game.

Opening Day may be an unofficial holiday in Cincinnati, but its observance is just as hollow as Cinco de Mayo, when everyone loves Mexicans all of a sudden. If you're celebrating the Reds, why not continue throughout the rest of the homestand? Where are you?

Opening Day in Cincinnati is just a place to be seen. The opening of the Grand Slam of Cincinnati events, including Taste of Cincinnati, Oktoberfest and the Crosstown Shootout.

For all those who disagree, I understand where you're coming from. It was cold. It was late. Yeah, that's pretty much what happens in April at a game that starts at 7:10. (If the Reds began starting them at 6:40, people would complain that it's too early.)

Now, I'm not saying that you need to attend every game. I know that it's not free to attend for most people. (I rarely buy tickets and only go when I get free ones as well, but that has more to do with opportunity and finances rather than desire.) I know, though, that there are plenty of people with means who could attend those games and don't.

It's because Cincinnati is not a baseball town. If it was, the stadium at a minimum would be half full every game. Even rainy days.

If it was, this week there would be more people attending the games because they would realize that the Diamondbacks and the Phillies, both National League postseason teams last season, are in town for this trip and this trip alone.

If it was, there would be significantly fewer people asking where Josh Hamilton is, and why the Reds didn't back up the Brinks truck for him to stay.

If it was, there wouldn't be the most disgruntled future Hall of Famer in the majors wearing the Reds uniform. (Can you picture St. Louis fans treating Albert Pujols the way that this city treats Ken Griffey Jr.?)

If it was, people would be sad, but understand why Joe Nuxhall doesn't win the Ford Frick Award year after year. Trust me, I know how much the Ol' Lefthander means to the area and to Reds baseball, but he is only a memorable voice to those who grew up in this area.

If it was, when Johnny Cueto made his major-league debut with seven innings and 10 strikeouts, the main topic of conversation wouldn't be Chris Henry's release.

It's OK for Cincinnati not to be a baseball town. I love being a baseball fan in this city, and I know there are many, many passionate fans who understand what I'm trying to express and bleed Cincinnati red. Maybe you couldn't make it because of family, or because you work hard, or because you can't afford it or the cable to watch the games. You can still be a great baseball fan without the personal appearances at the ballpark and cheer your team on in your own way.

The fact remains, though, that we do not live in a baseball town.

Instead, we live in a city where the Bengals rule supreme and a guy who hits 40 HRs a year and racks up 100 RBIs and 100 BBs a year is constantly berated for his defense and his strikeouts.

It's cool, just admit it. This is a football town. The Reds are great, but the Bengals hold your interest more. It's really OK.

I've gone through excessive bitterness on this issue, but banging this out on the keyboard is a bit of catharsis. Enjoying Edwin Encarnacion's three-run bomb in the bottom of the ninth on Wednesday in person, and listening to Cueto's amazing performance on the radio helped as well.