One early morning in mid-May, I couldnʼt help myself as I got wrapped up
watching the Barclays Premier League Season finale with a league title was on the line.
Crosstown rivals, Manchester United and Manchester City were sitting at the top of
the league standings, with Manchester City leading United in goals scored by eight. All
City needed to do was win against Queens Park Rangers (QPR), and they essentially
assured themselves the league championship.
The Rangers werenʼt just going to roll over and give them the game. They were in
danger of relegation (European footballʼs version of shipping a team to the minor
league) if they lost. United, on the other hand, needed City to tie, or lose -- but only if
they won against Sunderland. Yes, the season was riddled with crazy stories
throughout. But to score at least eight goals in a game was way out of the picture.
For Americans, the game was broadcast late morning. For any fan across the pond,
they had to scurry from Mass, say prayers for their respective team, and then watch an
afternoon spectacle. The stage was set. And those fans were ready.
I have become increasingly fascinated with the passion and obsession people have
with sports. Iʼll be honest in saying that I, too, am guilty of such obsession. Whatʼs
interesting however, is how different people and cultures express their obsession.
Bates College Professor Francesco Duina says that we, as humans, “share a certain
restlessness and uncertainty about our proper place in the world. We thus turn to
winning to find out if we are really worthy human beings. Winning serves as an
affirmation of our legitimacy.”
Competition, says Professor Duina, “generates unnecessary tensions within
ourselves and with the world, and because ultimately it cannot give us the answers we
are looking for.”
I disagree with Professor Duina.
Itʼs not necessary to be focussed on the problems with the world at all times. On a
global standard, every two years, the world comes together to watch their prized
athletes compete for their respective countries in the Olympics. Each fanʼs passion and
obsession only enriches the atmosphere of the world. On a more parochial level,
consider that in 2001, in late October, the New York Yankees were playing in the World
Series. The sympathy for New York in the wake of the aftermath of 9/11 was converted
into an obsession with watching Americaʼs pastime. Sports can offer a distraction from
the world for fans. If we looked for answers to questions such as, “When will the world
end?” then why bother living? Itʼs much healthier to ponder the sustainability to the
Yankee dynasty.
Looking at sports obsession on a comparison level, most nations have their
different forms of expression. Superstitions abound in the world of sports across the
globe. No matter how crazy or foolish the superstition is, fans don't want to take the
slightest chance of jinxing their favorite team. Fans in the U.S., South America, Europe
and Africa will do whatever it takes to make sure that their favorite team is riding the
destiny-train to a victory. The intensity of the behavior only gets worse as the season
progresses and the hopes of a title increase.
And superstitions donʼt take into account rituals such as face painting, tattooing your
teamʼs logo on your chest, showing up to every game even if you are gainfully
employed, or blowing into a vuvuzela until you pop a blood vessel.
According to Professor Duina, Americans are fairly “unique in our constant inclination
to turn everything into a matter of winning and losing -- work, play, personal
possessions, even love.”
But when you compare and contrast our obsession with winning to European or
African countries, it equals out in the long run. There are a few exceptions to the rule.
Take for example, Denmark, where the Law of Jante rules. This law, according to
wikipedia, “Portrays and criticizes individual success and achievement as unworthy and
inappropriate.” Essentially, every sports fan residing in Denmark has been neutered
from any thoughts of excessive celebration and obsession.
Back to my own crazy obsession -- the world-not-quite-on-the-line football game on
the other side of the Atlantic.
The Queens Park Rangers PR were the first to strike with an early goal. Now, keep
in mind QPR was a 16-1 favorite to win this match. As soon as they scored, the
stadium, filled with rowdy City fans, became silent. City charged back, however, scoring
an equalizing goal just before halftime.
At almost the same time, United -- playing Sunderland on the field but battling
Manchester City for first place -- took an early lead in their game. It was like playing
three teams. Anxiety gripped the faces of Man City fans. At the drop of the second half,
QPR scored again, taking the lead. And this time, they held the lead for over thirty
minutes. The tension was almost unbearable. Cityʼs coach nearly ran onto the field
screaming at his players. Everyone knew what was at stake. Meanwhile, United
continued to hold on to its lead, and the excitement sucked in fans who were not
expecting to come away with a title.
City and QPR were getting close to stoppage time, and the fans were now at the
point of tears and denial. It was made even worse that United had claimed their victory
over Sunderland.
But just when the game entered stoppage time, the magic of sports -- the
inexplicable and unpredictable unfolding of events that comes with pure competition --
took center stage. In a span of three minutes, City scored two goals and clinched their
league title. Tears of sadness became tears of joy and disbelief. United fans looked like
each of them had taken a Muhammad Ali uppercut out of nowhere into the gut. City fans
rejoiced with laughing, singing, crying and celebration.
Three weeks later, they still could be celebrating, for all we know.
Itʼs a good thing to see from the other side of the globe. We are not alone with our
irrational attachment to sports.
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