"It's just a game." I've heard this anthem sung repeatedly throughout my life. Typically, such a statement follows failure. It is a paltry attempt at trivializing the sometimes irrational emotions born from loss. It is the vicodin administered by those who wish to ignore their true feelings and hope for an instantaneous numbness. Rather than delving into the pain and seeking healing, they rationalize, like a cheater justifying his/her actions based on their dissatisfaction with their spouse. It is an answer that is really no answer at all.
If it really is just a game, then why do sports engender such tremendous emotional involvement? Why do we pull our hair out when Jay Cutler throws his 4th interception or proceed to binge drink when our favorite college football team suffers their 1st loss? Is it just an unhealthy obsession with a meaningless activity? After all, as fans we have zero control over what Lovie Smith or Peyton Manning or Kobe Bryant actually do. Yet, we feel entitled to their performance, and their failure becomes our failure. Their loss, our loss. Their victory, our victory. Perhaps our beloved games aren't merely just games. No, there is something distinctly more significant about being a fan.
Sports is the greatest form of escapism ever created. There is no other environment which offers a blend of passion, unity, intellect, art and violence in a single format. There is no other world where we live as vicariously as we do through our athletes. There is no other community where another man's failures are taken as seriously as that of the sports fans'. But what does that mean, to be a fan?
The New Orleans Saints Super Bowl Victory: It's More than a Game
An artisan wordsmith with a gift for saying absolutely nothing using an abundance of characters.
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Fan is an abbreviated format of the word fanatic. Merriam-Webster
defines a fanatic as "marked by excessive enthusiasm and often intense,
uncritical devotion." I think we can all agree on the excessive
enthusiasm aspect, but the "uncritical devotion" seems to miss the
mark. In fact, many "fans" I've encountered are among the most
critically devoted people I can find. They love their White Sox, but
all be damned if they don't hate Ozzie Guillen or Jerry Reinsdorf or
Mark Buehrle. So what if you won a World Series five years ago? What
have you done for me lately? Try winning the division again Oz. I
think the definition of a maniac is much more apt. Merriam-Webster
defines that as "a person characterized by an inordinate or
ungovernable enthusiasm for something." The real fans I've encountered
could be more competently called "mans." And frankly, there's nothing
wrong with that.
As a "man," you wake and you obsess. You fret over the possibility of losing your team's star player. You bitch when LeBron scores 40, and the Cavs lose. You bitch when LeBron scores 15, and the Cavs win. You are elated with the offseason signing of Terrell Owens and disgruntled in week six when he inevitably erodes team chemistry. Oh, and let's not ignore your entirely irrational standards. Your team signs a player with questionable character and, of course, it is because your team/organization wants to help him right his life. But if your rival does it, they are a safe haven for criminals and thugs that don't care about anything but winning.
Only in the sports world can you conceivably speak out of both sides of your mouth and get away with it. Only in sports can you spew vitriolic aspersions about Sidney Crosby for the first 15 minutes of a game only to profess your undying love for him when he scores the game-winning goal. Only in sports do we worship and loathe the same people based entirely upon which city they choose to work in. It is a world devoid of rationality and logical decisions. Being a "man" isn't about rationally determining your team's success in a given season. It's about believing that every year is your year, no matter how foolish.
So why do we feel entitled? Why is it that when referring to "your" team, it is always, "We lost a close one" or "We have to play better than this" or any other number of phrases you grumble from your bar stool as you weep into your beer. Why are you suddenly implicated in the loss? Ultimately, it is our deep emotional connection that causes us to subconsciously consider ourselves members of the teams we so dearly love. Dan Davis, starting CriticBack for the New Orleans Saints. On the surface it seems incredulous - really just absolutely outlandish. But there is more.
Howard M. Weiss and Russell Cropanzano, a pair of psychologists you've likely never heard of, advanced a theory called the "Affective Events Theory." Their theory forwards that emotions are influenced and caused by certain events which then influence your attitudes and behaviors. You see, the outcome of your team directly affects your mindset, your approach to everyday living. It is more than just a game; it is your life.
Don't believe me? Ask New Orleans Saints fans what it felt like on Super Bowl Sunday when Tracy Porter snagged the interception which placed the proverbial nail in their Super Bowl victory coffin. I submit this video as evidence:
For a city which faced indescribable tragedy and a team that faced year after year of hopeless defeat, was the Super Bowl victory just a game? Destroyed homes, wrecked businesses, flooded streets and displaced families all wiped away in the midst of victory. The Saints became more than merely a sports franchise that happens to reside in New Orleans but the embodiment of the city, of endurance, of hope that better day is to come. That is the glory of sport. That is why we love athletics. In the ultimate escapist world that exists, sports gives an avenue for expressing our innermost grief and turmoil, our covered-over joys. It is a release for the failures you and I are incapable of dealing with on a daily basis. It is the one world where we can run to where screaming our lungs out and painting our faces and beating our chests and running wild and free is not only accepted but encouraged. It is a place where dreams we never imagined to come true actually can via our sports heroes' actions. And damn does it feel good. And damn you for trying to tell me it's just a game.
As a "man," you wake and you obsess. You fret over the possibility of losing your team's star player. You bitch when LeBron scores 40, and the Cavs lose. You bitch when LeBron scores 15, and the Cavs win. You are elated with the offseason signing of Terrell Owens and disgruntled in week six when he inevitably erodes team chemistry. Oh, and let's not ignore your entirely irrational standards. Your team signs a player with questionable character and, of course, it is because your team/organization wants to help him right his life. But if your rival does it, they are a safe haven for criminals and thugs that don't care about anything but winning.
Only in the sports world can you conceivably speak out of both sides of your mouth and get away with it. Only in sports can you spew vitriolic aspersions about Sidney Crosby for the first 15 minutes of a game only to profess your undying love for him when he scores the game-winning goal. Only in sports do we worship and loathe the same people based entirely upon which city they choose to work in. It is a world devoid of rationality and logical decisions. Being a "man" isn't about rationally determining your team's success in a given season. It's about believing that every year is your year, no matter how foolish.
So why do we feel entitled? Why is it that when referring to "your" team, it is always, "We lost a close one" or "We have to play better than this" or any other number of phrases you grumble from your bar stool as you weep into your beer. Why are you suddenly implicated in the loss? Ultimately, it is our deep emotional connection that causes us to subconsciously consider ourselves members of the teams we so dearly love. Dan Davis, starting CriticBack for the New Orleans Saints. On the surface it seems incredulous - really just absolutely outlandish. But there is more.
Howard M. Weiss and Russell Cropanzano, a pair of psychologists you've likely never heard of, advanced a theory called the "Affective Events Theory." Their theory forwards that emotions are influenced and caused by certain events which then influence your attitudes and behaviors. You see, the outcome of your team directly affects your mindset, your approach to everyday living. It is more than just a game; it is your life.
Don't believe me? Ask New Orleans Saints fans what it felt like on Super Bowl Sunday when Tracy Porter snagged the interception which placed the proverbial nail in their Super Bowl victory coffin. I submit this video as evidence:
For a city which faced indescribable tragedy and a team that faced year after year of hopeless defeat, was the Super Bowl victory just a game? Destroyed homes, wrecked businesses, flooded streets and displaced families all wiped away in the midst of victory. The Saints became more than merely a sports franchise that happens to reside in New Orleans but the embodiment of the city, of endurance, of hope that better day is to come. That is the glory of sport. That is why we love athletics. In the ultimate escapist world that exists, sports gives an avenue for expressing our innermost grief and turmoil, our covered-over joys. It is a release for the failures you and I are incapable of dealing with on a daily basis. It is the one world where we can run to where screaming our lungs out and painting our faces and beating our chests and running wild and free is not only accepted but encouraged. It is a place where dreams we never imagined to come true actually can via our sports heroes' actions. And damn does it feel good. And damn you for trying to tell me it's just a game.
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