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MY TEAM DOESN'T
MAKE ANY SENSE
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I've got issues. The good news is I'm not unlike millions of
other Americans, male and female. I'm a certified sports fanatic.
These days, I'm specifically a fanatic about the San Francisco
49ers. But after Saturday night's thrilling, heart-stopping,
come-from-behind victory over the Green Bay Packers, I decided to analyze my
obsession before I keel over from anxiety.
Non-sports fans will be delighted to hear that the analysis
didn't go well. I've decided my fanaticism is not logical, realistic or
healthy. I'm a shallow, lonely, sad little person who relies on professional
athletes to feed my pathetic ego.
But it sure is fun when we win.
There I go again. Why am I rooting for a bunch of guys who
don't even know I exist? They're not my friends, or family. I have no
financial interest in the team. Why do I care about their success or
failure?
It's not like rooting for your high school team, where you
might know some of the players and at least they live in your vicinity. The
49ers are comprised of big, strong men who have no connection whatsoever to
San Francisco.
They weren't born here, like I was, and they will leave as soon
as they get a better contract offer, as they should. Or they'll be traded.
Where's their loyalty? In almost all cases, only to themselves. So why am I
so loyal?
None of it makes sense. Yet there I am, week after week during
the season, celebrating the wins and mourning the losses. And, like last
Saturday night, risking my health by nervously watching them take on the
Packers.
It's not just the 49ers. Born and raised in San Francisco, I've
followed the Giants, Warriors and 49ers since I was old enough to figure out
what was happening, which generally consisted of losing.
No matter. I had guys like Willie Mays (born in Alabama), Juan
Marichal (Dominican Republic), Rick Barry (New Jersey) and Nate Thurmond
(Ohio) on my side. And then along came winners like Joe Montana
(Pennsylvania), Buster Posey (Georgia) and Steph Curry (Ohio). Didn't care
either way. They were on my team.
When the 49ers take on the Lions next Sunday, I should
logically be rooting for the Lions, because their quarterback is Jared Goff,
who grew up in Marin County, where I live. I've played golf with his dad,
and my sons and Jared have mutual friends. And by all accounts, he's a very
good guy.
Big deal. We're going to kick his sorry butt come Sunday.
That's right-we. My 49ers. When Brock Purdy (Arizona) throws
that touchdown pass to Christian McAffrey (Colorado), I'll be high-fiving
like I had just thrown the pass to my own son. I have zero control over
anything that happens, but I'll be taking credit for all the success.
And if they lose? I'll be devastated, not just for me but for
my teammates like George Kittle (Wisconsin) and Nick Bosa (Florida), who
will chase the money in a few years and sign with another team, at which
time I will hate them with a passion.
So illogical. So non-sensical. So much fun.
Non-sports fans, like my wife, will probably never understand. Research
shows that identification with a team is associated with significantly lower
levels of alienation and loneliness and higher levels of collective
self-esteem and positive emotion.
Non-sports fans aren't completely left out, though. They have
other teams in their life, whether it be religion, ethnicity, city, state or
country. But they're missing out on an easy one-the 49ers, for instance.
I can see a man or woman wearing a 49er jersey and feel
an instant connection. I can hang out with friends and endlessly discuss the
highs and lows of the game, the season, and the future. We're socially
connected, and always will be.
That's why it works so well when it shouldn't. I may be a
knucklehead for rooting for a bunch of guys who I have no connection with
whatsoever, but I've got a lot of other knuckleheads who are rooting right
along with me.
So I'll be watching the 49ers and Lions on Sunday for the NFC
championship. My heart will be beating way too fast, and I'll be thrilled
with a win and catatonic with a loss.
Either way, I'll have plenty of company.
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