Sports is a business, but it’s a successful business precisely because fans become emotionally attached to teams and players. Yes, fans want to watch their team win. But fans also want to watch grand romantic narratives play out in sports. The young up and comer with something to prove. The old veteran chasing one last chance at glory. The sacrifice. The perseverance. Loyalty to team and teammates. Fidelity to duty. Honor, even.
These are the stories we project onto professional sports, and why we all ultimately watch. Sociologists have long said that pro sports are simply a stand in for war. And war, like sports, is easily romanticized regardless of its ugliness, its randomness, its cold removal from the human condition. And I think this says something interesting about human nature, doesn’t it? We need to win at all costs. We need to triumph. But we also need to feel something deeper thereafter, some greater purpose, be it sacrifice, perseverance, honor, or more. The joy of triumph itself is fleeting, so we search for something more meaningful and lasting underneath it. We need to win, but we also need to win the right way, whatever that means.
We don’t just talk about the Kings winning two Cups. We don’t just talk about wins and losses and goals and assists and saves. We talk about Quick skating up and down the bench against San Jose, refusing to give up. We talk about Richards “setting the tone” against Vancouver. We talk about Brown’s hit on Sedin “changing the momentum.” We talk about clutch. We talk about intangibles. We talk about grit. We talk about “Mr. Game Seven.” We talk about jazz hands.
So yeah, sports is a business. Or is it?