I love sports. But to be honest, I have only ever watched baseball on purpose. Until this year. This year, I’ve made it a goal of mine to come to an understanding and appreciation for football (soccer) and basketball. I’m really starting to like them, but the problem with the NBA and the Premier League is that I didn’t grow up watching, so now I am without teams to follow. I’m sure that’s not hard to relate to. Part of the reason I love baseball and love the Tampa Bay Rays of all teams is that I grew up watching them and have participated in their history. Through a rebrand (my first substantial memory of them) in 2008, to the postseason, to the world series, to coming up empty, to coming up empty for another ten years, to a 90-72 season in 2018. They are my team and I love following them to nowhere.
Now in the past several weeks, I have been seeking out a Premier League team to follow. My criteria are: well designed uniforms (so basically any Nike or Umbro club), a loyal following for an underdog team of sorts, and honestly I’m also just feeling around for good vibes. But while I found an extremely loyal fanbase, a good uniform, and some really nice vibes in Liverpool FC, I have a hard time committing to follow a team that’s atop the table and has a chance at a Premier League title. I figured this was just because I’m uncomfortable liking successful teams. But it wasn’t until Roger Bennett of the “Men in Blazers” podcast beautifully articulated his experience of sports that I would really understand my own experience, and not until a related text from my girlfriend that I would understand how my experience of sports is tied to my experience of religion and philosophy. Both of these are too good not to include:
Roger Bennett said of Tottenham’s trophy hunt:
“...I don’t care about trophies. I don’t watch sports for trophies. I watch to experience moments. Feelings, really; Feelings that we’re meant to feel in real life. Emotions, I guess. I mean what is the big deal about winning? I think about life and football, any relationship, any marriage, friendship, living with a partner - even with absurd levels of chemistry - it’s not all joy. You work hard, you make great moments happen, you revel in those great moments in the relationship…And it’s the same with a football club. It’s a two way commitment to work bloody hard to give something of value to each other.”
When I sent this tidbit along to a friend, they sent me this text:
“I just realized, trophy is nearly synonymous with idol! Pete Rollins would approve of this experience of sport, I think.”
Which brings us to Pete.
Peter Rollins is my favorite philosopher and theologian. Currently he is working on creating a branch of theology called pyrotheology, which he describes as “creating freedom from the tyranny of certainty and satisfaction.”
On his podcast, Pete talks about the idea that you get more out of enjoyment than pleasure. If you think about Christmas, you might come to realize that the pleasure of opening your gifts on Christmas morning is less exciting than the month of enjoyment you get from the sheer anticipation.
Similarly, in sports, you may find better fans, or fans who are enjoying themselves, in the cities without a steady stream of trophies. The Cubs, the Rays, the Mets. Our teams agree to engage in the fantasy of the trophy, the pleasure of winning it all, but fans of shit teams have come to understand that it’s about the enjoyment. It’s great to see your team win, but in the end it’s better to see your team lose and to be a part of that struggle. These fans know that sports can just be about moments and emotions. Reveling in the great moments and working bloody hard to give something of value to each other. That also may be why people hate fairweather fans and why I had a hard time committing to Liverpool. It’s all pleasure without the shared experiences of enjoyment.
So that’s the idea. But I just want to briefly touch on the trophies themselves. As Micah said, “trophy is nearly synonymous with idol.” So here comes the irony.
For those who don’t know, I now work for a professional ultimate league and have been tasked with designing a trophy. I’ve had thoughts on it for a while, in regards to how to create a shape that can be used for marketing and such. Furthermore, I was talking to Todd Radom this week (humble brag) about trophy design, and he mentioned the fact that even the iconic shapes of the Vince Lombardi trophy, the MLB Commissioner’s trophy, and the Larry O’Brien Championship Trophy only came about in the last 60 years. My impression before this conversation was that competitive sports are only functional because a group of players and staff agree to buy into the fantasy that if they could just hold that trophy they would feel whole and complete. Or possibly that they’re working so hard to eventually feel the pleasure of reaching their goal. And my thought was that in designing a trophy, my task is to design an object worthy of fantasy. But what I’m realizing is this:
A trophy is like money. It’s only worth the amount it costs to manufacture it. So the value of a trophy is mostly housed in the meaning we read into it. A season’s worth of hard work. A series of rebuilding years. Losing certain players in exchange for fresh faces. Any hardships, tragedies, triumphs, comeback wins, and intense emotional experiences will attach themselves to that object. So for each team, the trophy becomes a physical manifestation of their unique circumstances and every reason they must win it all.
I’m not saying I’m not going to design a dope trophy, I’m just saying a trophy is a vessel that houses whatever meaning you put in it. Often, they’re even conveniently shaped like a cup to hold all the meaning, or cereal, with which you wish to fill it.
I wouldn’t call this essay concise, and everything I’ve written has opened up more questions than I could answer. But I’m going to free myself of the tyranny and satisfaction of answers, and allow myself to leave it there. Better yet, I’ll actually help you to keep unraveling the rope with some follow up questions for you to ponder if you’re hungry. Open wide:
Are the Yankees, Red Sox, Patriots, Man City, etc. buying pleasure? Are their fans enjoying themselves?
The Yankees postseason hashtag is #chasefor28. What does that say about their situation? Was winning the World Series 27 times not enough? It may be good for the sport that they continue to engage in the fantasy, but when the most successful franchise has to specify that they’re chasing their 28th, do you get the impression that winning loses its significance?
When starting up in a new league, is it best to be aware of the powerlessness of the trophy-shaped-hole and pursue enjoyment, or to engage in the fantasy for the sake of competition?
I know that’s a lot. But I’m really eager to hear what you guys think about this. So please hit me with any thoughts or questions. And a happy Super Bowl to you all.
Also also: Check out Pete’s work at PeterRollins.com or listen to “The Fundamentalists” podcast. I highly recommend.