Team Fandom: Is it Worth It?
Why, and how, do we embrace the pain? A note to Leafs fans, and other diehards in the world of sport
On February 15th, the Maple Leafs blew a 5-1 lead to the Ottawa Senators, prompting yet another dark moment of self-reflection. It joins my personal list of moments that started in 2013, with the Leafs blowing a 4-1 lead to the Boston Bruins in game seven of the first round of the playoffs, followed by two more game seven losses to the Bruins, followed by the David Ayres game, followed by the most recent first-round loss to the Blue Jackets, in between a handful of other blown leads and Mike Babcock ignorance.
If you are a diehard fan of a sports team, particularly one in hockey, you are likely familiar with these moments. Each time is more frustrating, some more painful than others. This is the life of being a partisan fan - one that proudly cheers on a team for the purpose of seeing them win over another.
My fandom for the Leafs has grown by the year. Its first steps encouraged by Mats Sundin, the next by James Reimer. Now, I am writing arguably insignificant details of their games and players. But after the series loss to Columbus, I asked myself for the first time seriously, is this worth it? Already two significant letdowns into the Matthews era, a coaching change that seemingly had flipped a switch, yet the same result. I find myself having more fun during the offseason watching management construct the future than watching the results unfold.
Is being a partisan fan worth the pain? Or should we find our inner purist; enjoying the beauty of movement and athleticism in sports?
It is possible to consume as much sports as a diehard fan does and avoid the stress. Philosopher Stephen Mumford suggests if there were no sports, and we came to admire the aesthetics of athletic human movements, we would have likely invented sports for the sake of seeing more, anyway.
Regardless of the desired outcome, the athletic display has meaning. We want to see a Matthews snapshot or a Marner no-look pass. Surely, fans like myself will take the ugliest win imaginable over a loss, but say you pay $100 to be in the nosebleeds of a Leafs game and they win 1-0 in a shootout - you’ve been robbed, at least in part. A lot of what makes the price of admission worth it is the unique talent above average human capabilities.
As Mumford explains the quest for victory requires admirable movements. Maybe we should focus on the journey instead of the destination. If we were purist fans, we would root for both teams because the better the game is played, the greater the entertainment value - we could get more out of sport.
Besides, there are other ways to perceive some of the Leafs greatest misfortunes. According to Dom Luszczyszyn, the blown lead to the Sens was a 1 in 3000 occurrence that could have only occurred with a couple of lucky breaks (broken sticks, a post-powerplay breakaway). The David Ayers game was an incredible defensive display from the Carolina Hurricanes, but the losing to your own employee narrative covered the fact. The Blue Jackets series was another display of good strategy, its success achieved on the backs of the Leafs unprecedented 2% shooting percentage.
As a partisan fan, the easy part is appreciating the beauty and athleticism of sports; the hard part is accepting the outcome. It doesn’t matter if a game featured a goal or save of the year candidate - ‘DID THEY WIN?’ In Leafs land in particular, sometimes a win doesn’t even cut it - ‘WAS THEIR DEFENSE GOOD ENOUGH, FREDDY HAS TO BE BETTER, WILLY SHOULD BE TRADED FOR A DEFENSEMEN WITH HALF HIS TALENT.’
Being a partisan fan is simply a different leisure experience. You are not just a fan enjoying the beauty of sport, you are a part of something bigger. Joy is sought for the collective; otherwise, it would not be worth it. When heartbreak strikes, there is a community of people, either online or by your side that you can vent to. Sports are an opportunity for meaningful social interaction, in which the context is irrelevant and meaningless to your everyday life at work or school.
Nick Hornby captures the meaning of gathering to yell and scream at athletes well in his book, Fever Pitch, about his Arsenal fandom. He talks about falling in love with the atmosphere, ‘staring at the crowd more than the players.’ It is a setting that facilitated his relationship with his father, and an exclusive setting at that.
My experience of becoming a partisan fan is probably common. I started playing soccer, and really enjoyed the competition and excitement from it. Then (before or after I started playing hockey I cannot remember) I discovered the spectacle that is Hockey Night in Canada on CBC. Soon, hockey became central to my identity. I was obsessed with the atmosphere, even through the television. The Leafs had little success when I was growing up, but I admired professionals and the excitement at games. I was too young to appreciate the skill that created beauty in sports but I knew Mats Sundin was admired more than most for something, so I cheered him on. I vaguely remember watching Sundin score a few goals at a game once (from the nosebleeds), but I could not tell you how he did so - I just loved celebrating his accomplishments with 18,000 people.
So, if you are like me, you are not going to give these romantic feelings up to be a purist fan, just so you can better appreciate the talent. Your team and its fanbase have created a community that you enjoy being part of and will not give up on. Meaningful social interaction that sports fandom facilitates is too valuable - as we have learned throughout the pandemic. The romantic attachment and shared experiences are why the Leafs (or your favourite team) winning the Stanley Cup (or your league’s top honour) will be a top ten life moment.
In the meantime, however, how do we manage the pain? We have to keep in mind that one cannot fully enjoy being a partisan fan without enjoying the aesthetic beauty of sport, just as one cannot fully enjoy the beauty of sport without appreciating the pursuit of victory or success.
To illustrate: the Jose Bautista bat-flip. There is no clip of a sports event that I have watched more since it happened and I get chills every time. Yes, the moment is amplified by the result, but it’s moments like this that make watching sports a worthwhile pursuit from either a partisan or purist perspective. First, the swing is beautiful, and what makes it so beautiful is its uniqueness. It was the same swing that made Bautista one of the most accomplished home run hitters in baseball at the time. Second, the roar of the crowd was unlike any other. Although not an aspect of the play itself, to me, it adds to the beauty of the moment that even an exclusively purist fan could appreciate. Third, the bat flip, where the bat represents years of misery in Toronto sports history (including the half-inning prior when the Jays lost the lead on a fluke play). Finally, the reaction from the dugout excites every time. Emotion and aesthetic beauty collide to provide one hell of a moment.
The pursuit of victory or success with athletic movement makes beauty, like there is beauty in dance. We should consider the beauty of sport as a pain killer, even if temporary. We know it’s worth it no matter how much our enjoyment is impaired by the anticipation of the result. Appreciate the moments that lead to the result, since it is these moments, as much as the competition and sense of community, that make sport meaningful.
I will conclude with the words of author Mark Manson, applicable to many aspects of life, especially right now: Hope for what is. As he explains in his book, Everything is Fucked: A Book about Hope, hope requires everything to be fucked. It is the basis of many of our actions because it gives life meaning, but hope is both the cause and effect of everything being fucked. Although it gives us reason to be happy - looking forward to the Leafs winning a game, for example - it can also be destructive because to be hopeful for that win, or the cup by season’s end, or to be better than another, we are unsatisfied with the present. In other words, we cannot enjoy the moment if it is the means to an end that we have made up in our minds. The moment must be the end itself - then we will have more fun. So, to paraphrase Mark, and apply it to sports fandom, try hoping for nothing. We cannot predict the outcome of the game or the season, and if we become too hung up on victory, it diminishes the values and joy of sport. Hope for the present opportunity that sports provides, embrace the beauty of sports, and appreciate the pain that comes with the happiness.
Part 2: https://nosebleeds.substack.com/p/team-fandom-is-it-worth-it-part-2
Bat Flip photo courtesy of Fred Lum/The Globe and Mail