Our Teams, Ourselves

“Gareth Southgate, the Whole of England is with you!”*
“DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES? YES!!”
“Puckett swings and hits a blast! Deep left center! Way back! Way back! IT'S GONE!!! The Twins go to the seventh game! Touch 'em all Kirby Puckett! Touch 'em all Kirby Puckett! And the Twins have won this game 4-3 on a dramatic home run by Kirby Puckett!”


*Note: The 1996 European Championship, played on home soil in England, found the Hosts in the Semi-finals against Germany. The game saw England score very early, but the Germans would tie shortly thereafter and the game went to penalty kicks. Gareth Southgate was England’s 6th man to kick, but was called into duty. The Germans had made all 6 of their PKs when Southgate lined up his kick. British radio announcer Jonathan Pearce famously called out “Gareth Southgate, the Whole of England is with you!” just before Southgates shot was saved by the German keeper, relegating England to yet another disappointing exit.



Close your eyes and you can see it: Gareth Southgate’s missed PK in the 1996 European Championship. Gloves, helmets, sticks all thrown into the air as the final seconds ticked off the clock in The Miracle on Ice. Kirby Puckett’s fist in the air as he rounded second base, on his way to the plate, carrying the Twins on his back. Each of these plays, like countless others, conjures up powerful emotions, even years later. Pride for your team, elation at an unexpected outcome, shock, relief, joy, sorrow, pain, disappointment.

Sports can engender a wide range of emotions, and sometimes all it takes is a word or two. Take a Florida State football fan, whisper “Wide right” in their ear and watch as their head falls into their hands. Every team has their glories and their deep sorrows. Players and coaches come and go, the composition of the team changes, so why keep track of the epic failures as well as the divine joys of the team? Simply answered, it is because, while the team may change, one thing stays the same: The Fans.

For the lifelong fans of one team or another, much of their own history is tied into the team’s history. The team’s success yield, on some level, personal satisfaction; the team’s failures, too, can be internalized. Yet the fan has little to no agency in this unholy bargain. As fans, we cannot choose to go for it on 4th down, to bring in the lefty, to pull the goalie for an extra skater, or to go into a zone, hoping to get inside the opposing point-guard’s head. Frustrations abound when managers and coaches go against what seems to the fans to be the clear solution, especially when games seem to hang in the balance.

Countless words in print, on air, and online skewered Grady Little for leaving Pedro Martinez in for too long in the final game of the 2003 ALCS; Little’s contract was not renewed that offseason, and many armchair fans spent the winter wondering what might have been, if only THEY had been out there with Pedro. In the end, it is an exercise in futility. Little paid the price for his mistake and the fans were no closer to the World Series for their trouble.

Why, then, do we willing submit to this arrangement? More than even that, why do we pay for the privilege to suffer? Like a junkie looking for a hit, come game time, true die-hard fans will be found in the stands, at their local bar, or wherever they follow the games, no matter how many times they swear the team off. Is it the promise of a bright future? Ask a Pirates, Twins, Royals, or Rays fan how well that works and then settle in, since, chances are, you’re in for a long rant. Is it, as many scholars have suggested, an outlet for nationalistic or even Nietzschean urges towards domination? If so, why do teams like the Buffalo Bills ever sell a single ticket? I love being a Twins fan; I’ve been one for my entire life, but I still couldn’t tell you why. Couldn’t tell you why I actually care about Liriano’s elbow, or Mauer’s knee. Couldn’t tell you why it scares me that Ron Gardenhire doesn’t care about OBP in young players. But do I care, and it does scare me.

This hasn’t just been an exercise in the rhetorical; I really do want to know what is it to you? Are you a fan of baseball because you get bored easily during the spring and summer? Do you consider yourself a fan at all, or are you just here for the hot dogs and the fireworks when the team wins? If you have, as I have, simply grown up in a fan culture, do you wish your parents had been great fans of Pucini instead? Sports have to fill some void, or they wouldn't have lasted this long, the question is what void they fill.