A Sports Fan’s Dilemma
Fighting the impulse to look away
The best thing about a bad sports team is the relatively contained or bounded nature of the moments in which the team is actually as bad as we think they are. These squads, through the efforts of players, coaches, management, and other parties affecting what happens on the field (that might mean us fans) consistently underperform, underachieve, and lose (almost pathologically, it seems) over the course of a long, hard season. However, it’s only one season.
We understand but more likely hope that this season in which our team has struggled is the only one we have to see, at least for a while. The travelling comedy reel that failed to exert its will over the game and its opponents will be no more. The season will be over and we’ll get our deserved catharsis. We break from watching this slow-motion disaster unfold.
Then, a new season begins. We might all get fresh start: a few hungry new players, a new management approach, and maybe even an unproven new coach with a different perspective on the game. Perhaps fans will have renewed hopes of greater success.
I avoid the entire emotional journey altogether, deciding not to suffer through the stages of grief, confusion, disappointment, relief (eventual), and every other emotion that a fan experiences when watching a truly terrible season. Instead, I disengage. I’ve been doing this for the last couple of months with my hometown soccer club, D.C. United. I’d imagine that many others do this as well. Gauging from the low levels of attendance at most home games or the relative lack of media attention given to struggling squads, we don’t seem to have a particular desire to take part in the emotional troughs of the fan experience.
One evening during a post-graduation visit, my dad and I were watching a D.C. United (Major League Soccer, in case you didn’t know) game. Mid-way into the second half, not hiding his disappointment, he said, “I tell you, these guys are struggling. This is a shell of a team. It’s like they don’t even want to be out there.” I hadn’t paid close attention to the movements of the individual players or the team as a whole until that point.To give some context, my dad and I had season tickets for years, during a period when D.C. United was the club to beat in a slowly expanding American soccer league. They won several MLS championships and even a couple of inter-continental cups with players that defined that era (the mid to late 90s) of American soccer. In the short time that the team existed, we fans had already conditioned to expect a win on most occasions.
My dad doesn’t live in the U.S. anymore and does not follow D.C. United closely, if at all. But I still do. Until I told him, he had no clue that the team was suffering through its worst season in club history (and for that matter, what might amount to the worst season of any team in league history). Granted, the team and league were founded in 1995. So what’s a couple of bad years here and there?
D.C. United has realized some sporadic success in the last few years, culminating in an Eastern Conference championship appearance last year. This year’s squad has faired much worse, posting one win halfway through the season and struggling to even get draws. Granted, there were a few key player departures as well as injuries. But this was largely the same team. The players moved with such torpor, lacking any desire to press upfield and put the opposing defense on its back foot. Worse yet, the team gave up two goals (and in doing so surrendered a one-goal lead) in a short span of time from mistakes that could have easily been prevented. I was neither upset nor surprised by this horror-show. I was numb.
A month or two into the season, the team had already piled up a handful of bad losses signaling something much worse than a bad stretch of form. This probably was bound to be a difficult year, though it would be hard to say it could have turned out this poorly from that point going forward.
Though I have always enjoyed watching football, I never really supported any of the other much longer-tenured sporting clubs in and around the Baltimore/Washington area. The Redskins (and Ravens, though they haven’t been around that long) didn’t quite appeal to me. Despite their recent history, the Redskins spent the mid-90s into 2000s somewhere between mediocrity and underachievement. The weight of expectations around the team consistently blew any and all mistakes far out of proportion and led to scrutiny of the coaches and management, which forced their hands, often resulting in worse coaching and personnel decisions. Watching friends experience the constant emotional roller-coaster that is being a fan of a club like the Washington Redskins seemed to signal a clear message: never get too attached to any sports team. You will invest emotionally and eventually, they’ll crush you.
If we take a step back, this is a pretty reasonable expectation when it comes to supporting a sports team. There will be years when the team you love is relatively successful and perhaps contends for the playoffs or some post-season competition. There will also be years when the team will be terrible, perhaps the worst in the league/division/ever. Most of the time, your beloved club is probably somewhere in the middle. American sports leagues are somewhat designed this way, with things like drafts (where the worst teams are rewarded with high picks), salary caps, and even league office decisions that restrict the movement of certain personnel (see: National Basketball Association). All of these things keep the league competitive and fun for everyone. Supposedly, if only a handful of the same teams are capable of winning it all every year, the league becomes less fun to watch. Naturally, there are countless international examples to the contrary.
However, when its our team’s turn to suffer through a difficult season, how likely are we to remain engaged? As fans, is it our responsibility to stick with our team even in the most emotionally challenging scenarios? Should we keep watching even though we know that we’re about to endure another testimony to the fecklessness of our club’s offense and the porous nature of their defense? Should we offer those hollow words of encouragement to seasoned professionals whom, despite their relatively high levels of compensation, still seem to take these struggles to heart? Some would say yes: this is what it means to be a true fan. If you’re not willing to share in the bad times, how can you be worthy of basking in the good?
This would suggest that we should feel an obligation to the team, not its fortunes. We should take the long view and support the club because it exists (perhaps for our sake). I’m more inclined to agree with this notion although I’ve pretty much failed in that respect. Others might disagree, saying that ultimately we are watching a medicore, perhaps even corporatized “product” that the team’s owners have managed to still make a healthy profit from. This is a pretty cynical but understandable view. Either way, its hard to watch these singular and eventually compounding moments of failure with complete dedication.
Ultimately, knowing that we aren’t always the most dedicated fans might compel us to examine our relationship with our favorite teams and at the very least, try to do better.
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