When the New Orleans Saints won the Super Bowl over the heavily-favored* Colts two months ago, I was overjoyed. It wasn’t because I bet on them (I didn’t) or because I picked them and I enjoy being right (although I did and I do). It was because I became a Saints fan in 2009. While my beloved Buffalo Bills struggled through yet another dismal season, I began paying less attention to the Bills and putting more of my rooting interest in the Saints. This rubbed some of my friends and family members in Western New York the wrong way.
Most of the snide comments I received about being a bandwagon jumper or a fair-weather fan were good-natured, but I suspect the most hardcore Bills fans in my inner circle felt a genuine sense of betrayal. People view the long-suffering fan with a strange combination of respect, admiration, and pity. This is how we feel about people who root for the Chicago Cubs, the Detroit Lions, the LA Clippers, the Cleveland Browns, the pre-2004 Boston Red Sox… and the Buffalo Bills. Conversely, the fair-weather fan is a maligned character, seen as spineless and fickle, unwilling to take the bad with the good, always looking to get behind the flavor of the month, a sports philanderer.
Fans are expected to be loyal. If you don’t stick with your team through the rough patches, you’re not considered a real fan. And when I began openly and vocally supporting the Saints, I invited the animosity I received. I said I was renouncing the Bills for good, fed up with a decade of mediocrity, poor management, and a suspicion that the team wasn’t even trying to win anymore, that owner Ralph Wilson was more concerned with selling tickets than with putting a decent team on the field. This was partially true. I am frustrated with how the team has been handled for the past several years, and I do think that Wilson has become more interested in profit margins than playoff berths.
But I love them. I can’t help it. What I said about turning my back on the team was just hyperbole. I could never root against the Bills or pretend I don’t care if they win or lose. Any time a Bills game was on this season, I rooted for them. And on the rare occasions that they had a big win (such as the exciting fourth quarter comeback against the Dolphins) I jumped around and shouted just like I always had. But I decided I wasn’t going to invest in them emotionally this season. In the past, the way the team performed had profoundly affected my mood. And, for the past ten years or so, that mostly meant the team made me depressed. They crushed my hopes over and over again. Going into 2009, I knew the Bills had no chance of making the playoffs or even finishing with a winning record. On paper, they looked like one of the worst teams in the league. I expected them to win 3 games (so, really, they were twice as good as I thought they would be). I figured, why make myself miserable? I decided to find a different team to root for, a team that actually had a chance, a team that would at least be competitive.
I settled on the Saints for a variety of reasons. First, I’m a huge Reggie Bush fan. Even though I admit he’s been a bit of a disappointment in the pros – I wouldn’t call him a bust, but he certainly hasn’t been the superstar we expected – I love watching the guy play. I still consider him the most talented athlete I have ever seen in person (and I’ve seen some good ones: Kobe Bryant, Roger Clemens, Alexander Ovechkin, Tom Brady, Jim Kelly, Thurman Thomas, Andre Reed, to name a few). Perhaps more importantly, the Saints are a supremely entertaining team to watch. They have a great passing game, a solid running game, and a defense that gives up a lot of points but also makes some huge plays. Plus I predicted they would be an elite team, and I wanted them to prove me right.
The Saints rewarded my newfound affection. I don’t just mean the championship. I mean the entertainment value of watching and rooting for the team. As the season went on, I became a bigger and bigger fan because they were so fun to watch. By the time the playoffs rolled around, I was hooked. I said before the NFC championship game and before the Super Bowl that I would remain a hardcore Saints fan even if the team lost.
Anyway, this wasn’t supposed to be about defending my decision to root for the Saints. At least, not entirely. What I really want to talk about is why we root for certain teams. And, once we become fans, are we obligated to continue rooting for that team for the rest of our natural lives? Is there a moral or ethical necessity to root for the home team? And, aside from geographic proximity, what are valid (or invalid) reasons to become a fan of a team?
Not many people would argue against the idea of rooting for the home team. I mean, that’s what you’re supposed to do. But I can name one guy who is opposed to it: Chuck Klosterman. Sadly, I can’t quote him directly on the subject. I know he addressed it in one of his books, but I can’t remember which one, and an index search of terms such as “home team,” “sports,” and “fan” did not yield positive results.
(Aside: During my fruitless search for this passage, I happened to reread CK’s essay about the Lakers-Celtics rivalry in the eighties, and I found this gem: “This is why men need to become obsessed with things: It’s an extroverted way to pursue solipsism. We are able to study something that defines who we are; therefore, we are able to study ourselves. Do you know people who insist they like ‘all kinds of music’? That actually means they like no kinds of music. And do you know guys who didn’t care who won when the Celtics played the Lakers? That means they never really cared about anything.” If you’re not reading Klosterman, you should be.)
As I remember it, Chuck’s argument is that rooting for the home team just because they’re the home team makes no sense. Why should you feel obligated to identify with a team, let alone feel emotionally invested in its performance, solely because it is somewhat nearby? It would be easy to dismiss this argument for the simple reason that Chuck grew up in rural North Dakota; there was no home team. He could not be expected to understand the importance of the Packers in Wisconsin, the Bills in Buffalo, the Maple Leafs in Toronto, etc. But his argument shouldn’t be dismissed so quickly, because he (kind of) has a point.
There is no logical reason to support the home team, they’re just the easiest to support. They’re on TV frequently, they get all the coverage in the local paper, you can go to the games if you’ve got the money to spend, and chances are good that a substantial portion of your friends and family also root for the team. So the home team is the default option. Still, simple convenience doesn’t explain why many fans become so passionate about their local squads.
There is surely an element of self-identification. Partly, it’s the community aspect. In order to root against the home team, you need to actively go against the tribe. It is, in a small way, an act of rebellion, a rejection of the community’s values. This is why I have always distrusted Jets and Dolphins fans. To root for one of those teams in Western New York is to say to your peers, “I am not one of you, and there is a good chance I don’t like you.”
Yet it goes further than that. The personality, style, and history of a team become intertwined with the qualities of the city where they play. The qualities of the team and the qualities of the city are depicted and perceived as being connected, if not identical. This is a fallacy, even when it appears to be true.
When I think of teams that appear to reflect the values of the cities they call home, I immediately think of the Pittsburgh Steelers. For as long as I can remember, the Steelers have been associated with great defense and running the ball. Back in the seventies, there was the Steel Curtain defense, Franco Harris, and everything else. Then there was the Jerome Bettis era, and for most of the 1990s it seemed like Pittsburgh always had the best linebackers in the league. These days, they still have a strong defense, anchored by safety Troy Polamalu, arguably the best defensive player in the NFL (though you could make a case for Darrelle Revis of the Jets). Anyway, these qualities seem to be a reflection of (or perhaps an influence on) Pittsburgh itself. The Steelers’ style of play is often referred to as “smash mouth” or “hard-nosed.” And this is a good fit for Pittsburgh, a blue-collar, rust belt city.
But, assuming the Steelers continued to win games, would the people of Pittsburgh love the Steelers any less if their style of play was completely different? What if they decided to go to a pass-first offense, focusing their game plan on the talents of quarterback Ben Roethlisberger and receivers such as Santonio Holmes? And what if they lost some of their defensive stars and started giving up a lot more points? What if, in other words, they became the AFC’s version of the New Orleans Saints? If they had as much success as the Saints had in 2009, I’m sure the citizens of Pittsburgh would wave their terrible towels all the same, even if the team wasn’t as hard-nosed as it used to be.
To give another example, Buffalo and Pittsburgh (the cities, not the teams) have a lot in common. Buffalo is another blue-collar, rust belt city. You would expect that Bills fans, like Steelers fans, would have an appreciation for hard work, physical play, defense, running the ball, etc. This is true, to a certain extent, but only because any football fan would value those qualities. They make for a good team, after all. The difference is that the glory days of the Bills, the early nineties, were built on an up-tempo, pass-first, no-huddle offense that lit up the scoreboard and put a lot of pressure on its own defense. Consequently, the defense was not great. Despite stars like Bruce Smith and Darryl Talley, the Bills allowed a lot of points. The burden of winning games fell squarely on the shoulders of Jim Kelly and the K-Gun offense.
You could also make an argument that those Bills teams did not epitomize a great work ethic. Sure, they worked hard. Any team that wins that many games has to work hard. I don’t want to slander those teams, because I loved them dearly. But head coach Marv Levy was a laidback guy, a guy who didn’t believe in pushing his players too hard. Training camp was often referred to as “Club Marv,” and Bruce Smith always found a reason to avoid playing in preseason games.
There are persistent stories that those teams did a lot of partying on Super Bowl weekend. I have no way of verifying those sordid tales, but do I think it’s possible that late nights and hard drinking are partially responsible for the Bills playing poorly in four consecutive Super Bowls? Yes, I think it could have been a factor. (Note: The Bills played relatively well in Super Bowl XXV, when they notoriously lost the game by missing a last-second field goal attempt. But they were clearly a better team than the Giants that season, were heavily favored, and probably should have won the game handily. But Giants coach Bill Parcells outcoached Levy, and the Bills’ players might have had a bit too much fun on Saturday night.)
So here’s my point: When you really look at the team, it’s difficult to argue that the great Bills teams of the early nineties reflected the personality of Buffalo as a whole. But we found ways to identify with the team, anyway. We said the Bills were tough, especially Kelly. He would take devastating hits and stay in the game. He threw interceptions and never let it faze him. He might throw three picks in the first half but come back with four touchdowns in the second. The Bills always seemed resilient: the team would never quit. This was best expressed by The Comeback, the playoff game against the Houston Oilers when the Bills overcame a 35-3 third quarter deficit to win the game 41-38 in overtime.
I’m not denying the Bills possessed these qualities. Jim Kelly was a tough son of a bitch. And they never quit, even when logic dictated they should. But any great team would have those qualities, at least some of the time. In order to win, you need to be tough, and you need to have a burning desire to defy the odds even when it looks like you should lose. So, in order to identify with the home team, we fixate on qualities we (as people) appear to have in common with the players (as a team). It works the same way in all aspects of society: the mythology adapts to the reality.
So, if we accept that there are no compelling reasons beyond convenience and following the crowd to support the home team, what standards should we apply when looking for another team to follow? I seem to remember Klosterman suggesting (and, again, I’m working purely from memory here) that you should become a fan of a team if you admire the way they play the game, or if they embody qualities that you personally possess or consider valuable, or if the individual players and coaches are “good character” guys.
At first, this argument makes sense. But there are a couple of big problems. First, it means that you will inevitably be choosing to root for a team that wins a lot of games. Let’s be honest, no one was looking at the 2009 St. Louis Rams and admiring the way they played the game. And you don’t want to personally identify with a bad team, because that would reflect poorly on you. And, even if you were basing your allegiance purely on the good character factor, there won’t be many bad teams that qualify. Why? Because bad teams are pissed off teams. Bad teams bicker. Players on bad teams get into trouble. I’m not saying this is true all the time, but generally speaking, it’s much easier to display good character when things are going well.
Anyway, you’re going to wind up picking a good team to root for. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that. After all, that’s what I did with the Saints. But here’s the other problem: What do you do when your chosen team no longer possesses the qualities that made you love them in the first place? A team that used to play with effortless grace and talent could become woefully incompetent. The character of a team changes over time. (With the notable exception of the Oakland Raiders. It doesn’t matter who’s coaching them, or whether they’re good or bad; the team always seems to have the same personality. Of course, when your fans dress like orcs on PCP, that’s going to influence the way you’re perceived.) So now you have an existential dilemma: You wake up one day and realize your chosen team isn’t the team you fell in love with anymore. What do you do? Do you stick with them out of blind loyalty, or habit, or hope that the situation will improve? Or do you go shopping for a new team, a team that reflects the qualities you prize? This must be what it feels like to contemplate divorce.
It’s easier when you’re a kid. Kids can root for a team for any damn reason they want. Because they like the uniforms, or the mascot, or because the team is really good in a video game. For a long time, the Philadelphia Eagles were my second-favorite NFL team, primarily because Randall Cunningham was un-fucking-stoppable in Tecmo Super Bowl. He was the quarterback version of Bo Jackson.
Speaking of the Eagles, that’s something topical. As I write this section of the essay, it’s the day after the Eagles traded quarterback Donovan McNabb to their NFC East rivals, the Washington Redskins, getting robbed blind in the process (the Redskins gave up only two draft picks, neither of which was a first-round selection). I’ve been a McNabb fan since he came into the league. After all, I’m from upstate New York and he played his college ball at Syracuse, and then got drafted by the Eagles, a team I already liked.
When I saw the Eagles had traded McNabb to the Redskins (a team I’ve always disliked) I was faced with a choice – where are my loyalties? I’m certainly not going to become a Redskins fan. But I do think the Eagles screwed Donovan over, at least a little, and I sympathize with him more than with the Eagles’ management. So I would have to say that I like the Eagles a little less (and the Redskins a little more) than I did two days ago. I feel pretty much the same about Donovan McNabb. I hope he has success. And I hope he blows out the Eagles twice next season.
Maybe that’s the best way to pick sides; which players do you like more? In the age of free agency and salary caps, many players change teams multiple times throughout their careers. This is how I became a Lakers fan. First, I was a Shaquille O’Neal fan.
I was crazy about Shaq. I don’t know why. As a chubby, 8-year-old white kid, I wasn’t even that interested in basketball. But I saw Shaq destroy a backboard during his rookie season with the Magic, and I was a fan for life. I had Shaq merchandise. I had a miniature Shaq backboard and matching blue and white basketball in my bedroom. I owned Shaq’s debut rap album (Shaq Diesel!) on cassette. (By the way, there is nothing that can top Shaq-rap on the unintentional comedy scale. I really need to see if I can find that tape.)
So I rooted for the Orlando Magic for a few years. And then Shaq went to LA, and I still wanted to root for him. So, presto change-o, I was a Lakers fan. And then I became a fan of Kobe, and Phil Jackson, and Robert Horry, and (sort of) Derek Fisher. So much so that when Shaq went to Miami, I still hoped that he did well, and I was happy to see him win another title with D-Wade, but the Lakers were my team. Also, I sensed that Shaq was about to become a mercenary big man, and I didn’t like the idea of changing teams every year or two. It would get confusing. I don’t want to be rooting for the Atlanta Hawks next year. Screw those guys.
Anyway, I’ve been rambling for 3,000-plus words now, and I’m not sure we’re any closer to an answer. Ultimately, it seems, being a fan of a sports team is a completely arbitrary decision. It doesn’t matter if you’re basing it on the team’s location or its players or its mascot or its colors or its star player’s hilarious rap album. One reason is just as valid as the next. After all, these are games that are meaningless, when considered in a vacuum. They only have meaning because we ascribe meaning to them. And being a fan is the best way to increase your enjoyment of watching sports. If you have a vested interest in the outcome of the game, it becomes much more exciting. (I suppose gambling does the same thing. I also support gambling.) So root for the teams that excite you the most. Root for the teams that make you happy.
But… there’s a caveat.
You can’t just root for the best teams all the time. (Or the Yankees.) I mean, you can. And if that makes you happy, go for it. But be prepared to endure the scorn of other sports fans. Sports enthusiasts will view you the same way women view Tiger Woods. You will be the ultimate sleazeball. You have to be faithful to something, after all.
So here’s what I suggest: You have to be loyal to at least one “long-suffering” team. And if that team someday gets better and wins a championship, good for you. That’s the hope of every fan. But you have to accept the possibility that it might never happen (Pittsburgh Pirates fans, looking at you here). To satisfy this obligation, I have the Bills and Sabres. They also fulfill the home team obligation. This allows me to root for teams like the Lakers and now the Saints and the Boston Red Sox (who were once long-suffering, but are now basically a carbon copy of the Yankees, much as it pains me to say it). You need to have your misery-producing teams to balance out your guilty-pleasure teams.
That’s the key, a healthy mix of teams. After all, no one can root for losers all the time. You’ll eventually sink into a deep, inescapable depression. Trust me, I know. And if there’s a random game on, a game in which you don’t care about either team, choose one. Root for them as if you’ve loved them your whole life. View the other team’s players as personal incarnations of evil. It will make your afternoon much more interesting.
I find myself thinking about Klosterman again, about how guys who don’t care if the Celtics beat the Lakers don’t really care about anything. It doesn’t matter what your reasons are. It doesn’t matter whom you root for, so long as you root for someone.
-Nick
*I use the term “heavily favored” loosely. The spread was only about 5 points, which isn’t that much. But didn’t it seem like everyone believed the Colts would win? In the week leading up to the game, I couldn’t find another sane person who actually expected the Saints to win.
Imitating Life 