Casey Gilfillan

As we have just passed one of the most anticipated events of the sports year, the Super Bowl, I feel compelled to unleash the disdain I hold for the cultural phenomenon of sports appreciation. My disfavor is sharpened so by the participation of my team – ‘mine’ by proximity-designation – in the grand event, as the environment around me has been infiltrated. The clothing trends of my region have been disregarded, subdued by the tidal wave of Kelly-green jerseys and other official Eagles merchandise. Greetings and commonalities have been eradicated from conversation, as interactions now begin and end with a colloquial blessing to the Birds. These blessings – bound to an emotional, season-long tribute – seem to have paid off, though I cannot say the same for the greasing of the street posts.

It is not the sport of football – or any of them, for that matter – that bothers me, but the intensified commercialization and cult-fertilizing processes that have been fostered by the national leagues and financial monopolies that effectively control how we consume these sports. The subsequent submission to these emotionally-tied, rage-based investments as encouraged by ruling sports institutions by the general population is both disappointing and concerning. Many of the behaviors exhibited by engaged sports fans are similar in character to behaviors of those who consider themselves devoutly religious, and strangely enough, it would appear that the effects of sports and religion share many of the same cultural impressions. Sports and religion both inspire obsessive loyalty and obedient followings, are largely based on parochial foundations, and offer community and purpose where there would otherwise be a gaping void of existence to face. These reasons, at large, are why I feel so critical about sports as an institution.

The extreme and unquestioning loyalty that individuals hold for their sports teams has always struck me as profound, considering that most people find what they consider “their” team based on regional proximity. For example, many Philadelphia team fans are so because they (and/or their family) were born in Philadelphia, or closer to that city than New York, Baltimore, or any other sports identity capital. Of course, there are always outliers – your random Anaheim Ducks fan born and raised in Minnesota; this can happen for a variety of reasons, but it is less common. There isn’t anything wrong with inheriting the love of a team from your region, family, or culture, but to treat the inherited affection as though it is based on independent evaluation of skill, a choice you made due to the genuine truth of the team’s position as the best, has always been silly to me. It seems ignorantly regionalistic, very us vs. them to naturally claim superiority based on regional athletics, especially in a world that is increasingly stratified by economic strife and political discord. There are no consistent teams with unchanging players and strategies to root for, just colors tagged with city names, producing new and gluttonously expensive jerseys every year to string along the cult-like fan base that have invested their life savings in the consumer experience of American Sports.

Out of this specific context, it is not the phenomenon of adopting the culture that surrounds you that I take issue with, for I would assert that is within the normal tendencies of human behavior. It is not the principle but the magnitude of the phenomenon that astounds me, specifically that  I have witnessed while residing in what is considered Eagles fan territory. I understand the general premise of interest in football, but I do not understand the culture shift I observe before my eyes. It is almost as though we enter a Lenten period of honorary genuflection to our Avian Lord, best expressed through the donning of officially branded merchandise. In a similar fashion to the religious holiday season, all worshippers turn out for the grand celebration, the most special time of the year; you consume the body of Christ, or you drink the blood of the Eagle (a green glitter beer). With regard to the peak of the football season, their fanaticism is met with the sacred ceremony of brute athleticism and alcohol-fueled celebration. 

Aside from the jerseys and dyed-food, the obsessive expression of sports appreciation extends further and into far more sinister manifestations. Rituals and charms are curated for luck and maintained for as long as a team’s winning streak might last, sometimes as long as an entire season. Rituals include specific behaviors and activities and an order in which they need to take place on game days; “good luck” tokens are frequently dirty clothing items, such as weeks-unwashed underwear and jerseys. The casual development of obsessive compulsions that they feel are directly tied to the victorious prevail and harrowing defeat of their beloved team help give definition to the sports fan experience through the illusion of participation. The delusion of participation is supported by aggressive vocalizations directed at the high-resolution screen, incessant screaming and endless frustration, ripping-out of hair and punching holes into drywall, anxious gripping and subsequent smashing of the beer bottle. This, in addition to the addictive and instantaneous world of sports betting, now accessible via mobile device where they can more easily target individuals with curated notifications and betting offers. When you feel bad that your team has lost – and even more sore over the financial loss – you can point to the fact that you didn’t wear your underwear inside out, or that the other team cheated…at least according to the angle on your television screen. Either way, you need a scapegoat, an embodiment for the loss and negativity you’ve experienced, some devil upon which you can harness all of your hatred and vitriol. Ironically, this outlet will also play into your continued loyalty to the team, for now you have a purpose not only in championing your team, but also in conquering your enemies. Religion functions similarly with psychologically-warped purpose-fulfillment encouraged through fanaticism and social divide.

Though my comparison of sports and religious fanaticism might seem harsh, it might soften the lens to consider that we adopt our religion very similarly to how we adopt our favorite teams. As previously asserted, most of us acquire our “home team” based on our geographical proximity to a major city and/or familial inheritance, though our family members typically have the same reason for adopting a sports team, unless the family has relocated. Similarly, religion is passed both through familial and regional patterns; religion differs in that familial loyalty reigns supreme over regionality, but regionality is relevant as it is common for the religious to live in communities alongside those of the same religion. It may seem natural, but I assert it to be rather strange that we receive our religious knowledge and understanding of the universe so ignorantly, blind and unassuming, happy to accept the banality of our context. When it comes to sports, the blind assumption of loyalties is less consequential, but is still worth considering. Why do you like the team you do, why do you want to wear the same exact jersey as everyone else, why do you allow them to suffocate you with those terribly overplayed, corny stadium songs? Calum Scott’s Dancing on my Own is insufferable, even after the Tiësto remix.

One commonality that sports and religious engagement share is their ability to foster community and provide purpose. When people have something, such as a game or event, to gather and celebrate together for, they are in their best form. It is my opinion that people are not on Earth to toil themselves as slaves of the dollar unto death, but rather to fruitfully enjoy themselves and the company of others within the restorative force of nature. Sports and religion capture a portion of the sentiment of human connection, though they do not fully manage the focus for it is cast upon some exterior goal or figure, whether it be a coveted victory or a feared god. In their capacity to provide the short-term purpose of gathering and engaging, interacting and being together, one can truly appreciate the emotional capacities of sports and religion upon humanity; it is with this perspective that one might feel apprehension towards both institutions as well.

If you can stomach the comparative psychological grip that organized sports holds on emotion alone, then let the unfettered commercialization and capitalization of the industry bother you instead. A quick Google search tells me that a brand new Jalen Hurts jersey goes for $149.99, the profit margins on such an item we can only assume are significant due to the production occurring in South America. You can expect to pay over $200 to see a live football game in the Lincoln Financial Field, not including anything besides the ticket itself. Sports is more and more removed from the direct experience of watching and enjoying the sport; like everything else, it is increasingly becoming a matter of investment. Not only do they want you to buy ridiculously expensive jerseys, they want you to buy a season stadium pass with an accompanying parking pass, not including of course any concessions and merchandise you buy while attending the games; they want you to invest financially in the fate of the games with the multitude of betting apps; they want you to stake your free time and mental sanctity to the welfare of the Sports Complex; they want you to revere overpaid athletes like God-celebrities. The same demographic who would rave incoherently about the corruption of Hollywood and the indulgent luxury at events such as the Grammys, would lovingly lick heel-to-toe of Roger Goodell’s boot.

I played softball for 13 years until the simultaneous fracture and dislocation of my thumb ended my career; I enjoy watching college softball, as well as major league baseball. I do understand the appeal of watching talented athletes excel and dominate on the field. What I don’t understand and refuse to accept, is the normalization of the consumption of sports as a product, the commodification of athleticism into something less valuable than the awe-inspiring display of human power that it is. What I don’t understand and refuse to engage, is the fanatical and cult-submitting behavior that many seem to adopt when it comes to their regionally assigned sports team. If not for organized sports and religion, what else would hold the ability to collectively captivate and distract us?

“So long as they (the Proles) continued to work and breed, their other activities were without importance. Left to themselves, like cattle turned loose upon the plains of Argentina, they had reverted to a style of life that appeared to be natural to them, a sort of ancestral pattern…Heavy physical work, the care of home and children, petty quarrels with neighbors, films, football, beer and above all, gambling filled up the horizon of their minds. To keep them in control was not difficult.”

George Orwell, 1984