Fans

The inanity of being a bonafide sports FANatic is mind boggling.  I'm not discussing the guy downing a few brews with his friends on a Saturday afternoon, or the girl watching the game with her boyfriend.

No, I'm discussing those fans who will openly fight you and scold you at a sports stadium.  Who will scream at the TV for three hours watching their team, win or lose.  The grown men who wear sports jerseys imprinted with the names of other grown men; and then have the audacity to call strangers "losers," "morons," and other morally reprehensible terms.

Unlike years past, local sports teams are no longer related to the municipalities they supposedly represent.  A kid from Odessa, Texas ends up as the starting linebacker for the NY Jets after attending LSU for four years.  Then two year's later, after he's traded to the Seattle Seahawks, you have to listen to some drunken, adiapose cephlapod go on and on about, "How much better WE are than you."  WE has nothing to do with it.  On this given day the random group of men you cheer for is outplaying the group I play for, but you and I have nothing to do with it; and certainly you have zero to do with how THEY are performing.  Maybe in 1905 this argument would have been more understandable.

When professional sports were started originally, there was a good chance that Johnny would grow up in Green Bay playing there his whole life, and eventually start as running back for the Packers.  Today your as likely to be cheering for hometown players as you are to be cheering for a safety from Nigeria.

I can almost hear you thinking AT the monitor.  So what, the players are from different areas of the country, this is my team that I root for year in and year out, I'm ATTACHED to them.  Well that's another can of worms that I'd like to tackle briefly.  Once again, I find nothing wrong with casual fandom.  Cheering for a team as an act of entertainment.  But letting a sports team dictate your identity, and more, your mood is absolutely ridiculous.

Once upon a time people had beliefs and morals, and what's more, those same people had skills and talents.   It was upon these foundations that a person's identity was built.  The carpenter, the blacksmith, the banker, etc.  However, today, this seems to not be the case anymore.  Show me a person who lives and dies by their sports team, and I'll show you a person working a soul crushing, fluorescent lit, paper pushing existence.  Why else would they have to fill their lives with hopes and dreams of other PEOPLE.

Which brings me to the futility of being a fan in the first place.  Most professional leagues in the United States have 20-30 teams.  Each season only one can be crowned champion.  That means that every year your chance of being the "best" is 1/25, possibly a little better if your team has been on a run the past few years.  So the chance that for a better part of a year you'll be in a good mood is 4-10%.  This translates into bitterness and conceit over single wins.  This in turn manifests in the outbursts we discussed above; how we're better than you.

Finally, I'd just like to point out the irony in wearing a piece of clothing with another man's name on it, and then calling the men around you homosexual.  Let alone what it says about the vicarious way in which you choose to achieve your dreams.

So as I stated before, I've got nothing wrong with  getting into a game your watching every now and then, or hell every week during the season.  What's bizarre and deplorable is when when the game your watching starts to get into you.