Most WhatsApp groups come with a baggage-drop facility. Before entering one, you must leave all your sensible-thinking tendencies at the door. If the group is of a men-in-a-fan-club kind, the facility could be a few miles away from the gates. Once you are inside, it is all capital letters and references to genitalia.
Sometime in the early summer months of 2020, an exciting idea was floated in a group of Manchester United fans I am a part of. One of the six members suggested that we should watch the next United game on a video call together. Since we were scattered across three cities, this was the closest emulation of a pub screening. Naturally, the rest of us loved the idea.
We then watched all remaining United games, and a bunch of other ones, from that season on Zoom. It was a welcome change. We would otherwise be watching this alone while trying to drum up conversations through exaggerated reactions on text. There is a funny quirk to this video call: not all of us watch the games on television. Some of us use OTT platforms like Hotstar and SonyLIV, with a lag of between ten to thirty seconds. So, during dramatic moments in matches, those ahead on the timeline give a somewhat muted reaction, waiting for the rest of us to catch up. It isn’t always easy — think of United getting an important goal — but we do what we can. I find this endearing, especially considering we aren’t quite a group of closely-knit friends. We used to meet at pub screenings in Delhi some ten years back and have carried that bond for football, United, and sports in general over to WhatsApp.
The thing is - sports tragics like us would happily watch a game alone. No problem. Lack of company has rarely stopped us from consuming good sport. But, given a choice, we would always choose to share the experience. On days when we can’t get on a call, the WhatsApp group is teeming with messages. By the way, the mute-always option is a godsend.
I would like to believe this thirst for a community applies to movies and shows too. In March 2020, Netflix released an extension for Google Chrome, called Netflix Party, that let you watch a movie or show with friends. I once attended the first-day first-show screening of a Rajnikanth movie in Chennai, and I’m here to tell you that the PVR hall felt as loud as a stand at the Eden Gardens. Whenever I see pictures or videos from a Comic Con, I feel less judgemental towards Sudhir Gautam.
I often think about influential figures and their propensity to bring people together. Why is group fandom such a thing? We are always looking for company, for a collective to tag along with. It leaks into our lexicon too.
Hum. Hindi for collective us. Sigmund Freud, the OG influencer, wrote his book The Future of an Illusion in 1927. Although focussing on the psychology of religion, it was written at a time of tumultuous politics in Europe, so the context is unmissable. In an outstanding article for Aeon magazine, David Livingstone Smith analysed Freud and other psychologists from that era who spoke about the power of religion and political figures.
“There are clear links between Freud’s analysis of the religious impulse, and psychological forces at play in the political sphere. Politics is, explicitly, a response to human vulnerability. Our deepest hopes and fears permeate the political arena, and this makes us susceptible to political illusions, which are often clung to with such impassioned tenacity, and so refractory to reasoned argument, that they fit Freud’s characterisation of delusions.”
Is sports fandom not the same? We treat fandom as devotion to a higher power. We attach absurd meaning to arbitrary actions that have no direct impact on our lives. Over time, we turn a joyride into a roller-coaster of emotions. Been there, done that. I am not much of a souvenir collector, so let’s just say my Amazon order history has a few too many keyboards and glasses.
My worry for sports, however, is that we are making our fandom more and more like a religious cult with every passing day.
On Friday night, the India women’s hockey team lost their semi-final game against Australia at the Commonwealth Games. During the penalty shoot-out, India’s goalkeeper Savita Punia saved Australia’s first attempt. As Indian hands went up in celebration, the referee blew her whistle and signalled a retake. Unfortunately, she had forgotten to switch on her shot-clock timer. The Australian player converted the retake; India lost the shoot-out 0-3. To Savita and the rest of her team’s immense credit, they called out the error without ever using it as an excuse. Us fans, however, were less kind towards the obviously better Australian team.
Now, I admit, this could just be an emotional fan venting after a loss. But I submit to you that we deal with unfavourable outcomes in the same way most of the time. Many people echoed Sehwag’s comment. We were robbed.
Last year, after the England men’s football team lost to Italy in the European Championships finals, three black players were subjected to racial abuse because they had missed their penalty kicks. It wasn’t the first time they were denigrated because of the colour of their skin, and it wouldn’t be the last. There is a distinct us vs them narrative, a gaze that looks at any negative influence, however fleeting, as inferior.
A few hours before India’s loss to Australia, and a hundred or so miles south, Arsenal were playing Crystal Palace in London. In the first half, a plane flew over the Selhurst stadium with a banner saying “Keep Rapists Off The Pitch”. It was in outrage over the grave sexual assault allegations that came out against a Premier League player, suspected to be an Arsenal midfielder who was on the pitch that evening. When the alleged victim took her complaints public on Twitter, replete with screenshots, most of the comments were predictably angry reactions to the victim herself. Some questioned the veracity of her claims, and the more savage of us told her that she wasn’t pretty enough for sexual assault. All of these comments came from Arsenal fans, mostly male. It was a repeat telecast of the scenes from when a Manchester United player was arrested for similar charges this January.
The reactions from the Heard vs Depp case are still fresh in our memories, right? Dudes living in Gurgaon were putting up pictures from Pirates of the Caribbean in celebration.
One comment from an Arsenal fan stood out. It went something on the lines of “That’s rough sis but can’t have Arsenal lose lol”.
I took this depressing detour because I am a believer in sports’ power for change. On the odd occasion, fans, like those of the German football club FC St. Pauli, have stood up against established conservatism and societal ills.
There have been many, many more cases of fan-groups helping out the underprivileged. Protests are regular occurrences in European football.
The caveat being - rarely against our favourite thing. That’s why St. Pauli are special. They have preserved the meaning of a community. The fans at The Millerntor have helped resist many changes that would have conflicted with their liberal ideologies.
Their model is not very difficult to emulate. Instead, most of us have gone a few steps too far in our fandom. While looking for a community, we have instead built a fortress where the big figure is, in Livingstone Smith’s words, omniscient and omnipotent.
“His words define the horizons of reality. He must be praised and appeased, but never challenged. His enemies are, by definition, in league with the forces of evil.”
I often wrestle with the question of inclusivity in sport. Are we really building an environment where everyone is welcome? If we are, the actions aren’t quite following the script. On Twitter, or in a gathering of ten inside a drawing room, try dissing Virat Kohli, Shah Rukh, or our current head of state.
We are scared of difference. In skin colour, culture, and perspective. And hence, when we encounter something that conflicts with our deep fandom, we recoil into closed structures. The communities we look out for are actually echo chambers. At all times, speak only about the glory of Sachin Tendulkar’s bat. Remember - he never failed. Anyone suggesting otherwise will be dealt with suitably.
Let’s do an exercise: how many figures can you name, from the top of your head, who could be replaced for Tendulkar in this paragraph, and the sentiment won’t change?
That’s kind of why that Manchester United WhatsApp group is precious to me. We may not be the closest friends, but we make space for each other amongst all the banter. Call it a function of my age for adding needless depth to mundane things.
What is even the point of a shared experience if we aren’t opening the doors for others?
Sarthak, thanks a lot for this. Call it the lack of enough smart people around me growing up (it is always someone else’s fault you see), but for a tiny phase in my never ending overlong life, I was this. I wasn’t abusive or some such but anyone speaking against my heroes (always male), was probably just seeking attention according to me. That changed when I started seeing through the prism of real performances over imagined wrongs. So I could relate to this.
Also, I apologise for the WhatsApp group of 2 that gets randomly activated during various sport events. You know what I mean.
I cannot overemphasize how much I wait for your pieces. You are way too wise for your years. Trust me. Much love.
Your best piece so far, in my opinion!
I don't know the first thing about sports but the mark of a true fan is that they can make anyone care about what they care about through the sheer force of their love. This is what you do for me and sports with your writing.
"We are scared of difference." What a beautiful sentence, and so true in so many contexts - including and far far beyond sports. How much more beautiful the world would look if only our education focused less on jingoistic pride in our imagined communities and actually taught us how to tolerate, accept, and embrace our differences! ❤️