I’ve gotten spoiled. The Super Bowl is on Sunday but I’m having trouble mustering excitement for anything but the possibility of some cool new commercials. After all, what is the Super Bowl without the Patriots?
It’s easy these days to be a loyal sports fan in New England. In recent years, the Red Sox have won two World Series, the Patriots three sets of Super Bowl rings. Just when their grips on perfection slipped just a bit, the Celtics stepped up and recaptured their championship and former glory. The Bruins and the Revolution also give us cause to be proud.
And we are proud. But why is that?
Certainly, we all like to be associated with winners. Experts call that “basking in reflected glory.” But even if our team wins, we can’t claim the credit. None but the most deluded of us claims that our loyal viewership, our yelling at the TV from our couches, has a direct effect on a team’s success. We can’t even claim that we were smart enough to spot something in the team we liked and knew it was going to be a winner. Rather, we were born to it. We are New England fans because we are New Englanders. (Ironically, very few of our professional athletes are from here.)
Identifying with something larger than ourselves is surely a human inclination. By why do we insist on it, even when our team is losing? After all, 1918 to 2004 was a very long stretch of maybe-next-years. Or is that just good old-fashioned Yankee—scratch that, Early American—stubbornness?
Team loyalty does seem to thrive here in the Northeast, powerfully and consistently, as it does in few other places in the country. Last year, I attended an Atlanta Braves game on a glorious spring evening. The park was nearly empty, with most of the concessions boarded up tight. A local’s explanation that it was, after all, a Monday night, seemed downright silly to the Red Sox fans there. After all, Red Sox Nation is populated in part by people who circle the day Fenway tickets go on sale months ahead of time, and then spend the day working multiple phones and multiple computers in a more-often-than-not futile attempt to land tickets at outlandish prices.
I might not understand why I care whether my teams win, but I do care. Prior to the 2007 World Series, I made a bet with a co-worker in Colorado, a Rockies fan, and delighted in her sheepishly wearing a Red Sox cap to the office for a day after we won. I made a similar bet with a friend in L.A. before the 2008 NBA playoffs. I was downright smug that my team had won.
I will watch the Super Bowl on Sunday, but with more interest in the commercials than in the game. As other Patriots fans know, football season has been over since December 28, when our team won the game but lost out on the playoffs.
So…how about those Celtics?
It’s easy these days to be a loyal sports fan in New England. In recent years, the Red Sox have won two World Series, the Patriots three sets of Super Bowl rings. Just when their grips on perfection slipped just a bit, the Celtics stepped up and recaptured their championship and former glory. The Bruins and the Revolution also give us cause to be proud.
And we are proud. But why is that?
Certainly, we all like to be associated with winners. Experts call that “basking in reflected glory.” But even if our team wins, we can’t claim the credit. None but the most deluded of us claims that our loyal viewership, our yelling at the TV from our couches, has a direct effect on a team’s success. We can’t even claim that we were smart enough to spot something in the team we liked and knew it was going to be a winner. Rather, we were born to it. We are New England fans because we are New Englanders. (Ironically, very few of our professional athletes are from here.)
Identifying with something larger than ourselves is surely a human inclination. By why do we insist on it, even when our team is losing? After all, 1918 to 2004 was a very long stretch of maybe-next-years. Or is that just good old-fashioned Yankee—scratch that, Early American—stubbornness?
Team loyalty does seem to thrive here in the Northeast, powerfully and consistently, as it does in few other places in the country. Last year, I attended an Atlanta Braves game on a glorious spring evening. The park was nearly empty, with most of the concessions boarded up tight. A local’s explanation that it was, after all, a Monday night, seemed downright silly to the Red Sox fans there. After all, Red Sox Nation is populated in part by people who circle the day Fenway tickets go on sale months ahead of time, and then spend the day working multiple phones and multiple computers in a more-often-than-not futile attempt to land tickets at outlandish prices.
I might not understand why I care whether my teams win, but I do care. Prior to the 2007 World Series, I made a bet with a co-worker in Colorado, a Rockies fan, and delighted in her sheepishly wearing a Red Sox cap to the office for a day after we won. I made a similar bet with a friend in L.A. before the 2008 NBA playoffs. I was downright smug that my team had won.
I will watch the Super Bowl on Sunday, but with more interest in the commercials than in the game. As other Patriots fans know, football season has been over since December 28, when our team won the game but lost out on the playoffs.
So…how about those Celtics?
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