(That Thing I Do)

When Football Fanhood Gets Disgusting

I love football. I love running on the field. I love kicking the ball. I love almost scoring goals. I love keeping the opposing team from scoring goals. I love everything about football. Except when I’m a spectator.

I don’t get the excitement of watching a sport. And most of all, I don’t get how many of us are so into it that they feel greater joy and pain from the triumphs and defeats of “their team”.

Ah, football… (picture courtesy of Phil H)

They feel so strongly for something that will never, in the foreseeable future, affect them in any way, or be affected by them in any way. The enthusiasm makes little sense to me, but it’s all good. It’s their joy and pain for them to indulge in as they please. But when their empathy for “their team” takes precedence over their empathy for the people who shouldmatter in their lives, that’s where I feel the whole “team spirit” is disagreeable.

They feel so much pain for the loss of “their team”, but when someone supposedly “important” in their lives has more significant worries, they apparently care less for them and more for the overpaid footballers who can most certainly afford a loss or twelve.

Poor footballers who are crying in the piles of cash they already have stashed away in one of the many rooms of their mansions, and to hell with the friend whose worries and problems are second in line.

The celebration of a friend’s achievement is met mostly with a hug and perhaps a pat on the back, while these people go around all day cheering about their winning football team.

Hypocritical much?