The Maple Leafs haven’t won the Stanley Cup since 1967. The Blue Jays haven’t made the playoffs since 1993. Most people reading this likely don’t remember the last time these teams were truly successful. So why do we care so much? Why are we fans? I asked myself these questions this past week after one of the Blue Jays’ best pitchers was unexpectedly injured. He will likely miss the entire season. It was devastating, disappointing news, which made me question why this even matters to me.
Sports are filled with disappointment. They are inherently set up to produce a disappointing result for most observers. Even when fans see a positive result, the enjoyment that they receive is likely out of proportion with the amount of time and worry that they commit to following the team over the years. Between injuries, poor performance, or simply the nature of competition, most years are not going to end well for most teams. Yet fans keep coming back.
No other form of entertainment would retain support after prolonged periods of disappointment the way that sports do.
One possible explanation is that it is the competition, and not the results, that is truly appealing. Fans appreciate how committed the players are to the process, and appreciate the process, not the results. But this explanation rings hollow to me. The purpose of the competition, after all, is to determine the champion. After prolonged disappointment, I would think people would grow tired of the process.
A more compelling explanation is that sports fans feel membership in a community. The fans of a specific team develop a culture, a shared history, even a tradition. It is comforting being a member of a community and experiencing the emotional ups and downs of sport fandom with a group of people. Sports can become a vital part of civic identity and unite a broad range of cultural groups. They can distract from other social problems, and be a constant in an otherwise uncertain life. Allegiances are passed on between generations and are fiercely protected. In ancient Rome, cities fought wars; today, they match up in playoff series.
Sports fans become so enamored with their preferred teams that they feel like a part of the team. Often, they will use pronouns that include themselves and the team as a single entity. They feel a sense of ownership over the team—a sense of elation when the team succeeds and devastation when it fails. These feelings are clearly false as the players are millionaires who can easily move on from failure and the owners are usually more concerned with profits than with victory. Fans are so psychologically invested that they care more about the results than those directly involved.
Teams are well aware of the nature of sports fandom and are experts at exploiting it for profit. The Maple Leafs know that they can charge whatever they want for tickets and still be able to sell out, even with an abysmal team. They know that they will always be one of the most profitable teams in the league. Less popular teams constantly make decisions targeted at maximizing their profits and exploiting their fans’ commitment.
All teams attempt to position their merchandising, tickets, and media in ways to maximize profits, even at the expense of the fans. They are able to do so based on the unwavering allegiance of fans who have become psychologically conditioned to always love the local team. No other business is able to disregard customers to the degree that sports teams are able to. Teams remain some of the most profitable business enterprises in the world and their values are skyrocketing. The increase in value is largely because they are becoming more and more efficient at exploiting their fans. Leagues are gradually finding ways to profit from fans over the internet with paid streaming services. They are earning increasingly valuable television rights deals as television networks grow increasingly desperate for a steady stream of live content to attract viewers.
So long as fans remain irrationally enamored by their favorite teams, the teams will continue to exploit them. Perhaps that is part of the fan experience. Fans love nothing more than to complain about team ownership, even if the public outlets for complaints tend to be owned by the same corporations as the teams themselves. The only way to prevent such exploitation would be a system in which the fans themselves owned the teams. Such arrangements are not unheard of. The Green Bay Packers are owned by residents of the small town of Green Bay, Wisconsin, and similar arrangements exist in European soccer. However, as values increase, such arrangements become less likely and corporations are more likely to be able to amass the money required to buy a team.
The reciprocation for the unwavering commitment of fandom is not limited to exploitation—it often goes to the extreme of abandonment. Sports teams, pillars of civic identity, often move to different cities where owners expect that they can be more profitable or where they are able to convince the city to finance a new stadium.
Through it all, the fans remain. We enjoy the emotional highs and lows, the process, and the disappointments. We relish the successes and quickly move on to hoping for the next one. Sports fandom is irrational, but that’s what makes it enjoyable. Fans know that they’re likely going to be disappointed in the end, but want to be there just in case they aren’t, and they want to enjoy the competitive moments along the way.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to wondering how the Blue Jays can possibly replace Marcus Stroman’s production for this season.