I have been away for a week on Spring Break with the Gang of 3. Seems like forever. Had a great time in Boca. Had some time to think of a few of the over-arching issues, outside of the games.
Thing One – (and this may be the only thing) I would guess that we are all fans. You would not be on this site, spending your valuable (hopefully valuable) time reading if you did not care about your school or team.
I would also venture that almost everyone is a fan of something. Whether it is Starbucks, BMW, Hinduism or French movies, people pick favorites.
The “thing” that we have been knocking around for a few days is whether you really have any choice if you are a real fan. If you ascribe to the idea that true fans derive from the word “fanatic”, can you be a fanatic of you feel like you have a choice to root for the team (or religion, brand, country, etc).
I will write on this idea in the near future. I want to give you folks some time to think about being a fan. I would rather this be a discussion than an essay. I will leave you with a story about a fall from fandom.
There was a time that the Baltimore Orioles were good, really good. For you college age kids, this could be well before your time. They had a way fo doing things right, called hte Oriole Way. It was how they trained, acted, played and won.
From the late 1970’s until early the early 2000’s, I was a fan. The first team for me, back then, was the Redskins and then the Orioles, Bullets (now Wizards) and Washington Caps. I cried when the Orioles lost the World Series to the Pirates in 1979. I wore Oriole hats, knew all the players (even on the farm teams) and loved going to Memorial Stadium on 33rd Street in Baltimore.
When the company I started became successful enough to get Orioles season tickets, we snapped them up. I had made it, I had club seats to the O’s in the new stadium. I went to the games, it was great.
Somewhere along the line, it became clear that the team belonged to Peter Angelos. It also became clear that baseball was changing. After the last strike, when there was no World Series and players changed teams too often, the bloom was off the rose for me.
I de-faned. We did not renew the tickets. I don’t want to bore you with details, but I was no longer a true baseball fan or Oriole fan. The point is, when I started being a fan, I did not feel that there was a choice. That was my team. I did not choose them, as much as they picked me.
When I felt as though I had a choice, I knew that I was not a fan anymore.