By Dylan Lightfoot
The phenomenon of sports fanaticism has been a subject of scientific inquiry since the turn of the last century. Given credos like “basketball is the religion of Kentucky,” this curiosity indeed seems warranted.
While some researchers characterize sports fanaticism as innocuous or even laudable, most cast a negative light on fans and fandom. Though it seems like the vengefulness of brainy dorks empowered by their doctoral credentials to publicly invalidate the lifestyle of the slack-jawed Cro-Magnons who pounded the crap out of them in high school, we must lend a prudent ear when science tells us that sports fans are socially deficient freaks.
Those indifferent to sports wonder at the behavior exhibited by sports fans: the use of the pronoun “we” in reference to their favorite team, or the mood swings hinging on victory or defeat. They may not be able to fathom how a grown man can swear and fling Cheetos at a television, or how anybody can marvel at the palpable banality of “doing the wave.”
One explanation concerns “social identity theory” which posits that people are motivated to behave in ways which maintain self-esteem.
According to this theory, sports fans are self-hating malcontents with poor social skills. To compensate, they seek self-esteem in a process called “association and affiliation.” By developing an intimate knowledge of players’ stats and wearing team paraphernalia, sports fans feel as though they share equally the team’s joys and sorrows. Though the extent of the fan’s athletic ability might be lifting chili dogs to his mouth, the team is always “we.”
Two more terms show up in numerous studies: BIRGing and CORFing. BIRGing, or basking in reflected glory, involves the fan reveling in a victory that has nothing to do with him; he is no more responsible for the team’s win than he is for the changing of the tides. CORFing stands for cutting off reflected failure. Here the fan distances himself from the team in its hour of shame, perhaps blaming the coach. The “we” suddenly becomes “they.”
Finally, “deindividuation” is a factor in the appeal of sports. In a stadium surrounded by 60,000 spectators, the sports fan can lose himself in the crowd and be swept up in the tide of mob emotions. This sense of simultaneous anonyminity and belonging is the same glue that holds together creepy religious cults and major political parties. Here the fan is free to boo, cheer, get naked, hurl garbage or participate in riots .
Significant also is that the eminence of the team is moot. The New Orleans Saints, for example, have had only a few winning seasons in over 30 years, yet Saints fans are as zealous as any. Where there are no pro franchises, college ball rules. If there are no college teams to support, fans follow high school varsity teams. This tendency follows to children’s sports, when a little league championship is as momentous as the Super Bowl.
Sports fans would answer these negative assessments of their lifestyle with a resounding “NUH-UH!” Sociologists, they might say, like to say big fancy words to make stuff sound bad. If fans want to center their lives on sports, that is their right. In the words of one Green Bay Packers fan, “the Packers are like your children. You don’t love them because they’re good. You love them because they’re yours.”
Dylan Lightfoot is a junior majoring in Psychology, and is Opinion Editor for The Louisville Cardinal. Email him at [email protected].
