In a world where sports fanatics are royalty, I am a mere plebian. I grew up in a Connecticut suburb where diehard baseball fans were roughly split 50/50: Yankees/Red Sox. I sided with the Red Sox because their supporters were generally less annoying.
Choosing a college in Boston confirmed my Red Sox allegiance. I attend the occasional game, enjoy a nice sports bar and follow the Sox on Twitter. By no means would I call myself an extreme fan, but I certainly tell people that I cheer for Boston sports.
This attitude, which probably comprises more Tufts students than are willing to admit, is the best way of supporting a team. We don't care so much about the score (unless we win, of course), but we appreciate the team spirit that rubs off on the city. I feel this way about the Red Sox. I am not ashamed to confess that it wasn't until this year that I learned what ALCS stands for, but every time I walk into Fenway, it feels a little like home.
To me, following professional sports seems like less of an athletic competition than a social experience. Supporting "your" team and tracking their every move - both on the field and off - is a culture. For the diehard fans that fully immerse themselves in that culture, I cannot say I think it's worth it - I could never put so much emotion into something I have no control over. But for those of us who dwell on the outskirts of that culture, we reap the benefits of team mentality, town pride and kicking back with friends to watch a game or two when we feel like it.
I read somewhere (it might have been on a Snapple cap) that, in professional baseball, the ball is only actually in play for a total of five minutes over the entire span of each game. So I would say it is legitimate to admit that, during the World Series, I paid more attention to the fun beards than to the actual plays, watching what I did of the games. That said, the beards still got me, the lay Sox fan, going. I felt the spirit and pride radiating from the team and affecting everyone in the Greater Boston Area. I think it is this spirit that's the important part - way more so than obsessing over controversial plays and emotional game intricacies.
It's all about the crowd mentality. Laypeople can get wrapped up in anything, as long as the general culture displays a propensity to get excited. Take Halloween, for example. Not everyone loves dressing up. But when it becomes clear that everyone is doing it, even the less-motivated folks become costume enthusiasts.
Maybe it's more town pride than team pride, but as I watched Game 6 ("watched" may be too strong a word considering I devoted more attention to the paper I was writing simultaneously), I could not help but think that I could see myself one day raising kids in Boston and taking them to Sox games every year. Having just enough team pride to enjoy "Sweet Caroline" and wear your cap around Boston is the perfect amount of "fan" for me. Being a subtle, wholesome supporter without the stress of sports politics is all I need.
Sports fans will always exist on a range of diehard to apathetic. I would put myself and the rest of the plebian population on the low end of that spectrum, but we are not posers. We are just your Average Joes who don't necessarily love sports. We are good at getting wrapped up in the hype, and we love to feel the pride that comes along with our city winning the World Series.
Eloise Libre is a senior who is majoring in history. She can be reached at Eloise.Libre@tufts.edu.
