Our Biggest Loser: How NBA Fans Establish Identities by Rooting for Losing

Mike Breen’s voice rang out over televisions across America. “It’s over! It’s over! Cleveland is a city of champions once again! The Cavaliers are NBA champions!” (NBA). His excitement was not without merit: The NBA’s Cleveland Cavaliers had just come back from a 3–1 deficit to win the NBA finals (something that had never been before). Moreover, their win was over the Golden State Warriors, a team which that season had achieved the greatest record in NBA history, winning 73 games and losing only 9. It was the quintessential American sports story: a team of underdogs, defying all odds to become champions. While those finals are certainly what most will remember most from the 2015–2016 NBA season, something equally important was happening on the opposite end of the standings. The Philadelphia 76ers, the worst team in basketball, had just lost the second most games in NBA history, with 10 wins and 72 losses. Sixers fans couldn’t have been happier.

In what seems like an affront to the very meaning of sport, a trend has emerged in recent years in which basketball fans will cheer, loudly and proudly, for their teams to lose as many games as possible. They don’t do this without reason. In the NBA, there is an annual “draft” of players. These athletes are NBA hopefuls, consisting of some of the best young basketball talent the world has to offer. There is a “lottery” to decide which teams get to select players earlier in the draft. Here’s where the importance of losing comes in. The team with the worst record that season gets the best chance of receiving a good spot in the lottery. The team with the second worst record has the second best chance at a good draft position, and so on and so forth. It’s the league’s way of ensuring parity, giving poorly performing teams a chance to land a top player. Since the Philadelphia 76ers hiring of general manager Sam Hinkie in 2013, several teams have made efforts to “game” this system, deliberately losing as many games as possible in order to acquire future talent.

This process has led to an aversion towards mediocrity and a championing of reaching one of two true outcomes: championship contenders or losing rebuilders. This strategy, where teams intentionally lose games, is known as “tanking,” and it’s received harsh, persistent criticism throughout the years from both fans and those within the industry. But there are many who embrace tanking. Fans find humor and community in its masochism. They find purpose in its embrace of intellectual approaches to sport. Tanking gives fans a way to display their unwavering commitment to a team and shifts the landscape of sport by reversing one of its fundamental goals — to win.

In the past, Academia has produced extensive research studying the effects of winning on sports fans. However, new approaches are needed to account for modern changes to team management and sports fandom. I focus specifically on fans of tanking NBA teams, and how they craft their personal identities around following teams that defy conventional goals of the sport. These transformation in fans’ identities have implications across sports fandom, including to sports fandom’s toxic and hierarchical masculinity. Fans cheer for tanking teams because it reaffirms them as “good fans” — fans who are committed, intellectual, and modern. These characteristics have the potential affect of undermining the masculine hierarchy of sports fandom. However, these same traits can cause fans to reproduce toxic masculinity, and it’s important to guide these traits away from the processes sports fans have been participating in for generations and instead towards progressive gender goals.

Fans cheer for poorly performing teams because, surprisingly, it can make them look good. One might assume that being a fan of a good team would improve one’s self-esteem and self-worth — your team does well, that reflects well on you. For a while, scholars found this to be the case. In an article for the European Journal of Social Psychology, Mark Dechesne et. al dug into the idea of BIRGing, or Basking In Reflected Glory. Fan scholars found BIRGing present in sports fans. According to scholars, fans’ “affiliation with successful sports teams allows favorable comparisons with others that result in a positive self-image” (Dechesne et. al 814). In other words, fans support good teams because it makes them look good. Fans of tanking teams, however, cannot participate in BIRGing the same way fans always have, because their team loses purposefully. One option for fans of losing teams would be to simply switch teams. Dechesne et. al suggest that many fans do as such, finding that fans of poorly performing teams even go so far as to shift the team they most identify with in order to preserve their self-image (814). They conclude that fans shift their allegiance to more successful teams to improve their self-worth. This finding, however, occurred more than a decade before tanking was popularized. In reality, fans of tanking teams haven’t been shifting to follow new teams. Instead, they come up with new ways to find glory with the teams they already follow. I argue that in the modern day, fans still shift sports allegiances, but that now the shift is more towards painting losing as a positive outcome, as opposed to following new teams.

Fans now choose to support poorly performing teams because it gives them the opportunity to display their loyalty, enhancing their self-image. Dechesne et. al mention that despite finding that most fans shift allegiances, highly committed fans are more likely to stick with their team through losses (832). Norris et. al find that these fans are maximizers. Maximizers are people who measure themselves against a standard of excellence, instead of against average expectations. In their study, they find that these fans identify more strongly with their favorite team when that team is historically less successful (Norris et. al 157). They discover that “maximizers did not ‘maximize’ by simply following more sports teams,” they instead followed their own team more fiercely (Norris et. al 161). Unlike the fans in Dechesne’s study, maximizers find it even more important to strongly identify with their team when it performs poorly. They didn’t change teams. Norris and his co-authors hypothesized that maximizing fans strengthen their allegiance because it’s more important to them that they be “the best fans” rather than “fans of the best team” (Norris et. al 164). To be a “good fan,” then, they must stick by their team through bad times. Tanking appeals to many fans because it gives them a chance to prove the strength of their allegiance. As tanking grows, more fans find themselves trying to perform as maximizers, demanding excellence from themselves in their fandom. Modern fans, then, begin to praise themselves more than their teams. This promotes loyalty, a generally positive character trait.

Loyalty, however, can have dividing affects between fans and those considered disloyal. Take this post by Orlando Magic fan @NBAtweets4you, which states “If you don’t remember this man, don’t watch a single playoff game” (@NBAtweets4you). The man pictured is Andrew Nicholson, an unknown and inconsequential Orlando Magic player over the course of their tank. The post has 610 likes, 93 retweets, and 101 replies (as of 4–17–19), gaudy numbers for an account with ~400 followers. Posts like this gain steam frequently in the community because it gives fans a chance to publicly display how they are not average, “fair weather” fans. They prove their worth by fiercely rejecting fans who only support teams when they do well. Fans of tanking teams feel the need to frame certain fans as less faithful to strengthen their own image. This shows how identity traits of tanking fans can in certain circumstances keep other fans out. Tanking fandom can then lend itself to exclusionary practices, as I explain later. These processes are about turning the praise of fandom to oneself (as opposed to their team) and comparing oneself to other fans, which has implications for fans’ other identity traits.

These high-commitment fans cheer for their team to lose because it gives them the opportunity to paint themselves as modern, intellectually superior fans. Tanking was a strategy born from contemporary, data-driven approaches to sports. Because fans of poorly performing teams are concerned with being the “best fans” and boosting themselves, they welcome the opportunity to associate themselves with scholarly approaches — supporting losing gives them the chance to prove their intellectual might. Maurice Peebles, a deputy editor at Complex and Philadelphia 76ers fan, writes about how the intellectual purpose of tanking drives his affection for the then-tanking Sixers. Peebles claims that fans who oppose the grand scheme of losing to win are either “people who don’t fully understand the plan,” old, stogy fans afraid of change, or those who won’t be satisfied no matter what the 76ers do (Peebles). While that sentiment might be up for debate, the perception by pro-tank fans is what’s most important. These fans create differences between themselves and others, positioning themselves as smart and accepting of change. However, as with their “loyal” identity, they do so in contrast to other types of fans, encouraging divide. Their intelligence and willingness to change, then, might not manifest in certain situations.

Bob Quan-Minh Ngo, a Ph.D. student of Sociology at University of California Santa Barbara, argues that sports fandom was previously dominated by more masculine fans (7). These new fans subscribe to a different type of masculinity, one “based on scientific rationalism rather than athletic excellence” (Ngo 11). I use Bob Quan-Minh Ngo’s study of sabermetrician fans to explain how this new wave of “intellectual” sports fans develop these masculine identities. Sabermetricians are fans of baseball who study the sport using advanced analytics. These fans are similar to fans of tanking NBA teams — both apply more economic, data-driven approaches to explain sports, both are stereotyped as unmasculine, and both pose challenges conventional fandom.

In championing themselves as intellectuals, fans in Ngo’s study and fans of tanking teams embrace new forms of masculinity. These scholarly fans hold themselves in high esteem. When entering the masculine arena of sports fandom, this egotism turns into a tool for reinforcing gender hierarchy. Many of these fans, when asked why there were so few female sabermetricians, expressed they felt that “advanced understanding of baseball is not something that women would or should be interested in” (Ngo 157). They explain the lack of gender diversity in a way that frames them as welcoming, but that the group they are welcoming to — women — simply aren’t interested. These sorts of comments bare a strong resemblance to those made in conventional sports fandom, which, according to postdoctoral researcher Abby Waysdorf, often pushes out female fans (Waysdorf). This disinterest discourse is a more subtle way of maintaining the gendered hierarchy of this fandom. As long as fans feel progressive, that’s enough for them. One explanation for these reactions is tanking fans’ desire to engage in practices that build up their individual character. The problem, as I’ve shown, is that these practices are not necessarily progressive, and often involve tearing down other groups, such as conventional fans or women. Fans of tanking, however, might not recognize their complicity.

It’s harder for “intellectual” fans to recognize themselves as oppressors because they also play a role in the subversion of masculinity. Patricia Hill Collins, former president of the American Sociological Association, argues “while many of us have little difficulty assessing our own victimization within some major system of oppression… we typically fail to see how our thoughts and actions uphold someone else’s subordination” (Collins 25). Sabermetricians and tanking fans alike have spent much of their short history stereotyped as unmasculine (Ngo 148). This, as Collins would argue, makes it more difficult for them to recognize their role in reproducing masculinity. Even if fans don’t explicitly support these practices, their dismissal of and negligence towards these issues confers to them some complicity in the oppressive masculinity in sports fandom. The process of dominance and suppression over others, then, continues.

Because these fans receive large amounts of their esteem through their fandom, it’s unlikely they’ll respond well to direct criticism. Instead, to change the more toxically masculine aspects of their fandom, appeals should be made to their desire to be forward-thinking and modern. Take the San Antonio Spurs fandom, for example. While the Spurs aren’t a tanking team, their fanbase still in some ways resembles a pro-tank one — they’re acknowledged as highly loyal and progressive, subscribing to progressive unconventional approaches team-building. Their fans are self-praising, seeing their team’s forward-thinking attitude as an extension of their own. It’s because of these reasons that when the Spurs became the first team to hire a female assistant coach, their fans rejected prevailing discourses around her ability as a woman to coach (Gasol). Instead, they threw their support behind the move. “It’s almost unfair how awesome our organization is,” and “I’m pretty enthused with how NBA athletes are taking the opportunity to be socially progressive,” were the predominant responses from Spurs fans (/u/BranchDavidian; /u/marshalldungan). Instead of treating a woman’s entrance into their progressive domain as an assault, they welcomed it. Forward-thinking attitudes in gender issues were, to these fans, a natural progression of their identity. They basked in the reflected glory of feeling like a good person. By encouraging these discourses, we reward their esteem, a key driver of their fandom.

A strong factor in fans’ advocacy for Hammon was her support from players. Fans’ comments in the prior paragraph are from the comment section of an article by Pau Gasol, a Spurs player. Gasol uses the article to “knock down a few of the silly arguments and talking points against Coach Hammon’s candidacy” (Gasol). Fans were drawn to his arguments. This, in large part, has to do with their identities as tank-like fans. Fans of tanking or tank-like teams highly identify with their team’s processes. When the athletes and teams’ processes include promoting gender equality (among other issues), it increases the likelihood for highly identifying fans to agree. Encouraging these fan objects to denounce toxic masculinity then presents itself as a way of combatting inequality within fandom. Some might argue that fans don’t have to agree with the political practices of the teams they follow. I agree with this take, have shown that it has strong potential to at least shift the views of many fans. That’s better than keeping things the way they are.

While fans of tanking pride themselves on their intellect and commitment, they also increase their esteem by broadening the definition of what’s considered praise-worthy. In 2017, the 76ers made the turn to become one of the best teams in the league. When asked if all the years of losing were “worth it,” 76ers fan /u/trust-theprocess expressed a sentiment held by many:

Only outsiders and bandwagoners call it suffering, hardcore Sixers fans who actually followed the team during those years will tell you that it was way more interesting than the previous decade. The post-finals/pre-process [pre-tanking] era was real suffering. (/u/trust-theprocess)

By changing the definition of what constitutes success to include winning and losing, fans who support tanking have more opportunities to engage in self-esteem boosting. It’s easier, then, to be a fan who supports tanking that one who doesn’t. As long as their team has direction, they don’t feel suffering.

Because fans of tanking teams have many opportunities for affirmation, it would be illogical and impractical to attempt to destroy this type of fandom as a way of challenging sports fans’ masculinity. Instead, this brand of sports fandom needs to be given more chances for affirmation in the ways it can help dismantle toxic masculinity.

Fans of tanking teams gain affirmation through support of the new types of fan texts they create. These texts undermine the masculinity entrenched in sports fandom. Without as much on-court success to point to, fans of tanking teams find new ways to support their team. This can mean turning to less masculine fan performances. Just take the subreddit for fans of the Atlanta Hawks, one of the worst teams in the NBA. It is here you’ll find fan texts such as “Ranking Every Hawks Player in Terms of Shoulder Mass” (/u/Tharpedge). This type of post wouldn’t belong in traditional masculine sports fandom, which keeps its focus mainly on the on-court action and avoids mention of players’ bodies. But this fan text pokes fun at masculine norms. Posts like this give fans space to define what fandom means. The growth of tanking and the types of fan texts produced as a result push against the masculine boundaries of fandom. While I previously established that tanking fans are complicit in reproducing toxic masculinity, it’s clear that these fans hold less entrenched views and are highly capable of challenging masculinity in other ways. Encouraging these ways is one approach fans can take to endorse gender inclusivity.

“You begin to love the team even harder because of those who don’t understand or don’t approve of the team’s unapologetic strategies” (Peebles). Despite the positives that come with tanking fandom, fans of tanking NBA teams have also participated in fierce exclusion of outsiders, and have been unapologetic in doing so. This exclusion is borne out of many of the desirable character traits they hold, such as the aspirations towards intellectualism and fierce loyalty through challenging times. Sports fandom has had a sad history of being unwilling to allow outsiders. As definitions of fandom change, tanking fans have the opportunity to be better. Masculinity in general can take a lesson from the opportunities within the fandom. By appealing to masculine desires such as the desire for high status, we can affect change. That’s not to say criticism is unwarranted, or that telling people “you’re progressive” is good enough. But if we shift perspectives, and show them the things they need to do to warrant praise, we’ll be taking a step in the right direction.

Works Cited

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@NBAtweets4you. “If you don’t remember this man, don’t watch a single playoff game https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D3ufa_CW0AYuAiK.jpg.” Twitter, 9 Apr. 2019, 12:59 PM, https://twitter.com/NBAtweets4you/status/1115660621910028288.

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/u/trust-theprocess. Comment on “Was it worth it?,” by /u/nbagenius2000. Reddit, 28 Jul. 2017, https://old.reddit.com/r/sixers/comments/6q4jg8/was_it_worth_it/.

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