On the myth of the “biggest fan”
My PhD research journey started with a single observation: the people we call “big” or “dedicated” fans are actually just those with the money to shell out for experiences. That may seem obvious, but the myth that event attendance (and more importantly, the level of your event attendance) determines your passion for something just won’t go away.
It’s expected that if you really love something, you’ll be willing to pay whatever it costs to get as close to it as possible. Front row at a concert. VIP packages at fan conventions. Paddock passes at a Grand Prix. If you care enough, we’re told, you’ll find a way.
I’ve interviewed fans who have gone into thousands of dollars worth of debt to meet actors from their favourite show, and interviewed fans who feel betrayed by a system that doesn’t value their love because they can’t afford to ever attend an event. The passion these two groups share for their object of fandom is identical, but that’s not how it’s viewed by industry, or often even by their fellow fans. We live in a society determined to quantify something that isn’t actually quantifiable.
Earlier this week, it was revealed that hospitality packages at the Las Vegas Grand Prix would cost upwards of six figures. This was unsurprising (especially for Vegas), but still frustrating. While cheaper options are always available (we happily did GA at the Melbourne Grand Prix this year and had the best weekend!), fans shouldn’t have to feel like they’re missing out, or somehow less than because they’re not buying the hospitality package that wraps everything in a nice bow and puts them close to the action. When you watch an event on TV and you see the fans who do have the access, it’s only natural to want it. But when it comes to something like fandom, something that is so built on love and passion for something, the fact that corporate greed is allowed to make you feel bad about how you’re expressing that love is awful.
Proximity has nothing to do with how much of a fan you are, and the persistence of the lie is plain exhausting. The worst part of it is that it is often the brands who are the worst at believing and perpetuating it. The number of times I have seen marketers give presentations in which their “biggest fans” are quantified by spend is outrageous. They may be your biggest customers, but don’t ever make the mistake of equating the two when you’re in the business of fannish love.
Sports and entertainment companies are developed to make money, and the basic realities of supply and demand mean that premium experiences sell for premium prices. But these facts can remain true without the sacrifice of those who cannot spend. There is so much in the way of fan engagement that organisations can do to make every single fan feel welcome and wanted. The fan who never gets to go to the Grand Prix, or the concert, or the convention, or the whatever should feel their passion is just as valued as the fan who is up close and personal with the celebs. This shouldn’t feel like such a crazy idea, and yet, here we are.
