Fan Guilt

Fan guilt is a natural phenomenon that many of us suffer with as we get older and mature. Such an affliction almost seems like a natural part of life. As we grow older we have less free time, more responsibilities, and need to shift our focus onto more pressing matters.

Nothing beats person success that you were part of.
Even better when with such a great bunch.

The commitment it takes to support a football team to the fullest is as much, if not more than any successful relationship between two people. The spouse, the kids, the friends play second fiddle to the football team, unless it is something they can join in with (and many do so reluctantly, just to get a little of daddy's attention). What does the ultimate fan do? They will go to home and away games. They will have the home and away shirt, as well as some casual wear, and other items and souvenirs such as mugs, bumper stickers, and even a lampshade. If your living room isn't the colour of your favourite team, you're letting the side down.

It's not enough to watch all their games. We can do that on TV without three hours of travel, and money spent on travelling. Yes, it costs money to have the TV packages, but you don't buy that just for your team (or do you?). We buy the TV packages for all the sports, movies, and other favourite channels. It's expensive if you did it just to be able to watch your team, but when you consider everything else you get from it, it's a much better deal than going to stadiums, in terms of finance and economy. Even with the internet these days, if your team plays in one of the top leagues, you never have to miss a game. You may have to reschedule work or avoid some other commitments, but you can always see your team. As a Rovers fan, the best I can do most weeks is Radio Rovers.

Isn't the Saddledome gorgeous? GO FLAMES!

Do you have a signed shirt? If not, you're not a real fan. Do you have an old programme? Scarves? Badges? Footballs? Wallpaper? Umbrellas? If you're missing these, you're not a real fan. Can you see the similarities between such accessories and the accessories of a child's play set? What they can have can be really cool, but they're not satisfied. The adverts on Nickelodeon are encouraging them to have more, and as the parent, the parent decides what they have is enough, and it would be illogical and unnecessary to buy more. You've already got the Bat Cave, the Batmobile, Robin, Alfred, The Joker, three different types of Batman, and a small chunk of Gotham that you can blow up. That's a lot. Kids would be thrilled. Sadly, after a week, they want more. They want another thing, another bit, another piece. They may have three Batmans, but they don't have the one that shoots water, or the one that lights up. They can't possibly use their imagination, and it doesn't matter that there are starving kids in the world, nor that their usual habits suggest they'll play with it for five minutes and be bored, moving onto the next thing. For now, that's what they want, and tantrums will come until they get it.

Rovers up the Empire State Building.

This is the human condition. It's stupid, but we all do it. We know how silly it is to support a football team, and yet we still do it. Anything less than the best, and it's hard for us to be able to justify calling us a fan. Occasionally I joke when someone asks me "Are you a Blackburn Rovers fan?" and my answer is "No." I then attempt to follow it with "More of a sufferer than a fan" but get cut off before the hilarity can ensue with "So you're more of a supporter than a fan?" Interesting logic, and yet it shows there are many levels of fandom. "Where were you when you were s***?" is a song sung at Chelsea and Man City fans, pulling into question their loyalty. We've all got stories similar to mine of the old man on the train after Portsmouth drew 2-2 with AC Milan, throwing it away in the last minute. The fans looked sad and dejected, and the old man began his tirade of "Where were you when we were in Division 3?" I looked around the train and thought that many of my fellow passengers had not yet been born. "You can't call yourself a real fan until you've been to Hartlepool on a Friday night." Friday nights in Hartlepool must be epic. Still need to plan that one with the lads.

As time goes on, the few memories we have with certain
individuals mean more to us.
FA Cup semi with a dear departed friend.

We can rank fandom. We do it with everything. I do it with Star Wars. I don't care about the opinion of the average movie goer. The person who puts on Facebook "I was in tears when Han Solo was killed" makes me want to vomit violently. If you had read the books, the comics, and played the games, you'd have seen far worse things happen to Han Solo than that. You'd have seen him witness Chewbacca's death, seen his own kids betray him and go to the Dark Side. You'd have seen him see his children die. You would see him live out his life as a poor old man that only ever seemed to know bitterness and fear, interspersed with a few fleeting moments of true happiness when he met Leia. Kylo Ren didn't exist until the end of 2016, and you hadn't thought about Han Solo for decades. Idiots like me were Han Solo every day on our PlayStations, computers, in our books, in our minds, and in our hearts. And for that inexplicable reason, we feel that with fandom comes a Monopoly on grief.

As a supporter of the New York Red Bulls, I'm constantly seeing the arguments between new and old fans. The old ones love to bring up how many years they've had a season ticket. Some don't even need to be provoked. It just comes out. But what relevance does it actually have? What they're trying to suggest is that they've been through it for worse and for longer. A bit like "You kids today don't know how easy you've got it!" My struggle is more challenging than your struggle. Who wants to win that fight anyway? Yet it somehow works. There's almost a quiet respect for the scarred old man calling out the young whippersnapper.

Childhood hero Matt Jansen. A special talent.

I've travelled so much that it is very hard to keep track with the teams I follow. I have learnt to watch new leagues and even new sports in the case of Calgary Flames and New York Mets, just to be able to get my fix. It wasn't so hard growing up, as Rovers spent most of my childhood in the Premier League. We were always able to watch games. We travelled a couple times per season to see them, being the other end of the country, but only seeing one or two games wasn't that big of a deal because most of my friends were only seeing their teams a similar amount. We'd all watch the games on Sky or highlights on Match of the Day. Therefore, our levels of fan guilt were dependent upon who can get the new kit of their team. Does it have a name on the back? Does it have the Premier League patches? Do you have the matching tracksuit? Have you collected all the Panini Stickers of your team? Kids were almost disappointed in their birthday from the point of view of social currency if their team was not displayed prominently somewhere, be it in the form of the birthday cake or the wrapping paper on their presents.

Rovers at Niagara Falls.

In these other countries and these other timezones, and with Rovers not being live on TV too often, I have really struggled. I will get notifications on my phone where possible. I will join in with discussions online. So much so I'm one of a few fans that the club actually follows on Twitter (I'm also followed by the Red Bulls and Aldershot Town for those very reasons). I will wake up early to listen to the biased commentary of Radio Rovers. Whenever I'm back home in England, it's too far to travel to Ewood, so we can only go to away games in the south. There's the cost of getting there, plus the time off work. As someone who works in football, I'm often busy when Rovers are busy. My working hours are opposite to the working hours of your typical nine-to-five, Monday-to-Friday fan. So I'm left with score updates, a brief mention on TalkSport, and a couple minutes of highlights. When someone asks me how the team is playing, I don't feel qualified to answer. How could I? I genuinely don't know. I haven't seen them enough to say. The same when someone asks me about how a new signing is settling in. Sometimes it can be over a year until I see that player. And that makes me feel guilty.

How do I get past it? Well there's a few techniques. Bumper stickers, new shirts, and joining in the discussions to not feel left out. I take a Rovers scarf up the Empire State Building. I take my Rovers flag to Niagara Falls. I wear Rovers training kit to the gym. I take a Rovers tracksuit to coaching events. I've been supporting this team for over twenty years. The players, manager, and owners will change, but myself and my knuckle-dragging compatriots will keep turning up, tuning in, and moaning in disgust. It's a huge part of our lives and a huge part of who we are.

Rover the Dog did me a solid on my birthday last year.

But can we continue this? Your average football lover will have a mild interest in the sport. They'll watch a few of the important and entertaining games on TV. They'll see their team once or twice a year. They will do their best to raise their children as fans of their team. As my kids are likely to be British-Mexican, it's Blackburn Rovers and Club America. And we'll throw in New York Red Bulls too. Apart from that, they are free to do as they wish. They may not have lived in Calgary or worked for Aldershot Town like I have, and so won't have such affinities.

As the average stadium goer is a hardcore fan, and makes up a small percentage of what football fans really are (just compare World Cup viewing figures to people who actually watch the games in the stadiums) we look at them in two separate lights; admiration and pity. Think back to meeting or hearing of a season ticket holder for forty years, who goes home and away, and have only missed one match, but it wasn't their wedding, and there was that time they nearly missed a second match but managed to get a helicopter to the game (or something). These people are club heroes. Without them, the club would struggle to exist (well not the top teams, as the millions they rake in from tickets pale in comparison to the hundreds of millions they make from TV and sponsorship). It's like any kind of addictive product or service. Most drinkers aren't alcoholics. Most people who make the occasional bet are do not have a gambling problem like Marge Simpson. The casual drinkers, casual gamblers, and casual fans are of little interest to the organisations. Those people are bums on seats, and even though they are a source of income, they are not devoted. These people can have a drink responsibly and go home, or make one or two bets, have a bit of a laugh, and stop. These people also switch brand, or stop coming to games when the team is not doing so well. They are not hooked. They are not pouring endless streams of income into the organisation. They are not setting the standard of what it means to be a fan.

Anyone who knows me knows
I love flags.

Have you ever seen someone have one or two drinks being coerced by someone who has had six to have another? "No thanks, mate. Two's enough for me." "Oh come on! Have some fun!" The organisations would like you to say yes, but it's not that big of a deal if you say no. It's the other guy they are interested in. They've got him. And he can help influence others. It's amazing seeing how many men go straight to the pub or the bookies straight after work. That's the first thing they think of. And for many, they have overdue tabs, or are taking out loans to pay off their bets. Why do you think they're trying to get us involved too? Because then it normalises it. It justifies it. They're not crazy for betting £100 on a horse when they are already thousands beyond their overdraft, if you are doing it too. You probably say no, because you might have bills to pay or rely on food to live. That leads you to be accused of having changed or not being fun. If you're a fan of a team, you're not a real fan. You're not as big a fan as I am. It's quite an accusation to make, and one we take seriously. One we then have to defend, and draw on evidence to support our case, but why? Our commitment to the team is between us and the team. They owe us nothing, and we owe them nothing. It's a voluntary relationship. We like our team as much as we do, and don't need to prove it to anyone else.

So on one hand we become a little jealous and have some admiration for the fan that is able to change shifts, take a day off to travel to Champions League games, and goes home and away with the team. We think of the memories. All the games we couldn't get to for whatever reason and had to watch at home or at the pub. Those special moments, such as Liverpool's dramatic Champions League win. Not just because they won a Champions League was it a special moment, but because they were 3-0 down, dead and buried. Most fans don't get to see their team lift a trophy, which is special enough. Very few of those fans will get to see their team lift the Champions League, which is incredibly rare. Only a few thousand fans were able to say that they were able to see their team come back from three goals down to be crowned champions of Europe. We all envy that. We'd all like to experience that. What would we give to be there?

Can't go up North without a visit to Uncle Jack.

It's not just the one-off trip to Turkey. It's not just a couple nights in a hotel in Istanbul. It's not just a few days off work. If it were only that simple. Final tickets would cost a lot of money, but we'd all pay that in a heartbeat, no problem, but it's not a one-off. You need to be a season ticket holder. You need to go home and away. You need to be on a database of having been to plenty of games. That means a game or two every week. That means probably three or four away games per month. Travel + ticket + time off. And what if you have a family? This is a lot of time and money not being spent with or on your kids. Then there's all the food and drink, which we know when travelling is so much more expensive than when at home. It's a huge financial and emotional commitment. And for what? A few potential fleeting moments of joy?

This is where we find ourselves; in a constant state of wanting to support our team, but logically realising it's very hard to do. We feel guilty if we don't go for having neglected the team, but also guilty if we do go for having neglected our family. These people need incredibly relaxed bosses. Companies that pay well enough, and allow for enough time off. That's when we look at these people and think not only "how?" but "why?" Do you not have anything else in your life that can bring you this sense of belonging and camaraderie? Are you lost? Is there a hole that needs filling?

League Cup winners 2002 in Cardiff.

I would hate to have my reality and worldview as that of the average American sports fan. One that shows up usually after the event has started, talks a lot throughout it, hardly pays any attention to the sport, takes a few selfies, shouts some mundane expressions like "Number six you suck!", and spends fifteen minutes missing the action to buy a hotdog. That sounds a lot like going to the mall with your friends, only with a national anthem being played at the start. We want passion and excitement, which is hard to find in the US and Canada. At the games I've been to across both countries, and across baseball, basketball, hockey, and soccer, I'd say it's usually around 10% of the the attendance that actually cares about the result on a deep level. Probably 10% that let the team affect their mood.

Los niños tienen que ser Americanistas.

That's why grounds like the Emirates and Old Trafford are so quiet; because these are now becoming tourist grounds, frequented by one-off visitors. And the tickets are so expensive that they are pricing out the hardcore fans, and creating a more middle class environment. Daddy takes Jonathan and Jacob to watch the match. Conversely, passion in football quickly spills over into aggression, and in football we're never too far from racism, sexism, and homophobia. Not only grotesquely unpleasant, but it also highlights the mental health issues that are prominent in our society. Everyone is their own kind of crazy, and everyone requires their own unique form of therapy. Not just traditional counselling, but something like yoga, going for a walk, listening to music, and shouting obscenities at young, talented millionaires. Studies have shown in the US that towns that have teams go on to have a run in the playoffs have less suicides. And what's the biggest killer of middle aged men? Suicide. It's not that the team loses, it's that they feel part of something. They are given hope and companionship from a source that, without it, there's not really a lot in their lives. This goes for all fans, in that they feel part of something at a time in their lives when there's not really much for them to feel part of. I think of a line from the song "A Woman Like You" by Lee Brice. It's a bit cheesy, but the woman asks him the question; what would you do if you had never met me? He lists things like playing poker and golf, and also the line "I'd be a better football fan." He then finishes the point, because he actually made his theoretical single life sound like a lot of fun, with; "But if I was a single man, alone and out there on the loose, well I'd be looking for a woman like you."

Say NO to glory hunters!

Is it an addiction? An unhealthy obsession? Do we beat ourselves up when really we shouldn't? When we drive five hours across the country to see Rovers put in a half-hearted performance, we don't then use it to look for credit or sympathy. And we certainly don't do it as a form of enjoyment. It's more a sense of duty. Football has given me and my family some incredible memories. I have seen so much of the world and met so many incredible people because of the game. I've also endured a lot of pain. We have this idea, that if we can't support the team during the bad times, like now as the Premier League champions of my childhood stare relegation into the English third division in the face, then we would be phoneys if ever the team does come good again, and we showed up to bask in their glory. We've been to a cup final win, and we've had our "Hartlepool on a Friday night" experiences too. We've seen them score great goals and grind out amazing results. We've also seen them be embarrassed and out played. We were there, and it surely counts for something.

Moments after Timmy Cahill's winner. Camera is wrong.

One could make a case for go hard or go home, like we do as coaches. If you're not going to give it your all, then why be here? And that's the struggle we face as fans. We know we should, but also that we shouldn't. Is it logical? Does it make financial sense? Wouldn't I prefer to be at home in the warmth with some nice food, rather than out in the cold, watching millionaires lethargically represent the team I love, with a bunch of drunk, aggressive strangers, having to eat overpriced and underflavoured food? But then, when they win, when Tim Cahill nods in the 90th minute winner against LA Galaxy, when Thierry Henry scores an overhead kick against Montreal, when Tugay fires a rocket into the top corner of the Southampton net, when David Dunn scores a last minute equaliser against Burnley, when the fans stand in unison to clap the team off following a heroic performance against Arsenal, and when we beat Spurs in the cup final, there's honestly nothing like it. And I wouldn't trade those moments for anything.