I Hate to Admit This, But…
Look, I’ve been a sports writer for 20+ years. I’ve covered alot of games. And you know what? I think we’re all lying to ourselves.
It’s not about the game. It’s about the community. The ritual. The escape. The feeling.
I remember back in 1998, I was covering a minor league baseball team in Austin. Let’s call the owner Marcus. Marcus was this kinda quirky guy, always wearing these weird accessories trends must have items—you know, hats with propellers, neon-colored socks. Anyway, one night after a game, we’re sitting in this dive bar, and he says to me, “You know why people come to these games, don’t you?”
I said, “To watch baseball?”
He laughed. “No, no, no. They come for the seventh-inning stretch. They come to sing ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game’ with their neighbors. They come to feel like they’re part of something bigger than themselves.”
Which… yeah. Fair enough.
But Here’s the Thing…
We’re all so quick to judge other fans. You know the type—”bandwagon fans,” “fair-weather fans,” whatever. But honestly, who cares? If someone wants to put on a jersey and feel like they’re part of the team, more power to them.
I had this friend, let’s call him Dave, who was a huge Cowboys fan. Like, huge. He had a room in his house dedicated to Cowboys memorabilia. One time, I asked him, “Dave, what if the Cowboys have a bad season?”
He looked at me like I’d just asked him to amputate his own leg. “Then I’ll suffer,” he said. “But I’ll still be a fan.”
And that’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s not about winning. It’s about the committment. The suffering. The joy. The pain. It’s about being part of something that matters to you.
A Tangent: The Time I Cried at a Soccer Game
Okay, so this is kinda off topic, but hear me out. About three months ago, I was at this random soccer game in some park in Brooklyn. It was just a bunch of kids, like 10 years old. But their parents were going nuts, screaming and cheering like it was the World Cup.
And then, in the last minute of the game, this one kid—let’s call him Jake—scored a goal. His team won by one point. And his dad just lost it. He ran onto the field, picked up Jake, and started crying. Like, full-on sobbing.
And you know what? I started crying too. It was completley ridiculous, but it was also the most human thing I’d seen in a long time.
But Let’s Be Real…
Not all fandom is created equal. There’s a dark side to all this, too. The toxicity. The violence. The way people treat each other over something that, at the end of the day, is just a game.
I remember covering a basketball game in Chicago back in 2007. The Bulls were playing the Pacers, and it was getting kinda heated. One fan started yelling at another fan, and then suddenly, they were fighting. Like, full-on brawling in the stands.
And I thought to myself, “What the hell is this? It’s just a game.”
But then I realized, it’s not just a game. It’s about identity. It’s about pride. It’s about belonging. And when you mess with that, people get physicaly angry.
So What’s the Point?
I’m not sure but… maybe the point is that we should all just chill out. Maybe we should remember that it’s okay to love something so much that it hurts. But it’s also okay to love something without hurting others.
Maybe we should all just take a deep breath and remember why we love sports in the first place. It’s not about the stats. It’s not about the wins and losses. It’s about the people. The stories. The moments that make us feel alive.
And if that means wearing a silly hat or crying at a kids’ soccer game, then so be it.
Anyway, that’s my take. I’m gonna go watch the game now.
About the Author: Jane Doe is a senior magazine editor with 20+ years of experience. She’s covered everything from the Olympics to local little league games. She loves sports, hates bad fans, and is always up for a debate. You can usually find her at a bar, watching the game, and complaining about the refs.
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