You’re a college basketball fan and no doubt a good one. You have a favorite team and know their strengths, weaknesses, and 2015 recruiting class. You have a “source” at the school, a great “remember when” moment, and your all-time favorite player never made the NBA.
You’re a great fan.
Therefore you’re irrational, dependent and manic. You know the program minutiae, read obscure blogs (gracias), have a go-to text recipient for every rumor, and hate a national expert and a local broadcaster. Team success – as finite as makes and misses in March – dictate your emotional state and you’ve undoubtedly participated in some variation of an unspeakable superstition ritual.
You, of course, have never had anything to do with a win or loss; have never scored a point or grabbed a rebound; have never drawn on the dry erase board.
Sports fandom, for better or for worse, is manic. It makes no sense and that is why it’s perfect.
The theatrics of sport – the purest of tragedies – provide a rare forum by which we can irrationally lose ourselves, become consumed by something bigger than us, and commiserate and co-exuberate the lows and highs.
Fandom provides a sense of community not always found at work, amongst your significant others’ friends, or at happy hour. It provides us the rare opportunity to raise our voices, yell and scream, jump and shout.
Fandom provides us this: