Experiencing Loss and the Hope of a Sports Fan
By Michael Graziano
What does it mean to lose? By definition, losing is the act of “being deprived of or ceasing to have or retain (something).” But those are just words on a page. The loss of something is far greater than any dictionary definition you can find on the Internet. Losing can shake you to the core and force you to reconsider your previous actions. It is a feeling that you cannot get away from and it makes you feel all the emotions we try to avoid.
Pretty deep, huh? If you’re anything like me, you feel this way when your favorite sports team loses. Do not lie to yourself and say that sports do not do this to you; we all know they do. That’s the only reason why you are on this website—to read more about the sports you love to celebrate. Some people may try to diminish your fanhood and tell you that sports are not important, but to you they are. They mean everything to you, and the performance of your team determines your thoughts, emotions and hopes until they play again.
Do you remember the first time your team did something that made you proud to be a fan? Or how about that time you were so embarrassed and swore you would never root for them again? If you do, I have great news! This means that we are very similar people—we care far too much about sports. Non-sports fans don’t get it, am I right? WE LIVE FOR THIS! If this is making sense to you, then you will understand the pain I felt as a fan during the 2015-2016 season in Boston College Athletics.
More on BC in a minute. As a New York sports fan, I am getting far too used to the feeling of losing. Without George Steinbrenner buying Yankees titles, with the Giants drafting flop after flop and wasting Eli Manning’s Hall of Fame-worthy career, and the Rangers honestly just being the Rangers and failing to finish (I am not even going to mention the Knicks), losing is now in my DNA. I am afraid I may have carried it all the way to the Heights. This article is not meant to bash any teams for tough seasons that they had. Rather, it is to encourage hope for their futures.
Alex Tuch celebrates his overtime, Beanpot-winning goal over BU.
As a fan of all of these teams, I am writing to try and tell the world how it felt. For that, we turn back to the feeling of loss that I started with. You feel it throughout your body and endure the same amount of unrelenting anger and sadness. The thing about sports, though, is that you keep going back to them. You keep giving the team you hold dearly the benefit of the doubt and you hope they will pull through. They may have lost this week, but there is always next week. And that small glimmer of hope gets you through your day or that week. Your hopes may be crushed again by circumstances outside of your control, but as a fan you hope you never just accept losing as the norm. This is what hurts the most—the acceptance of mediocrity that comes from prolonged losing.
Consistent losing drives fans crazy and makes it tough to attend every game, but I went to every BC game I could this past year (even the 3-0 football loss to Wake Forest, I was there in my pope hat). I am at a crossroads with all of my sports teams and especially my favorite ACC team here at BC. Yes, there is still Eagles hockey, and Jerry York will always put a good team together, but football is my one true passion. Or even basketball, which I hold close to my heart as well. We look to sports in our society as a savior when times get tough, but we never talk about the times when sports do not provide joy anymore. If you are still reading this, you understand this feeling. At some point in your fandom you probably felt like there was no hope, whether your team had endured an 86-year curse (I still don’t know how Mo blew Game 4) or an 0-26 record in the ACC. I am not writing this to make you sad, but to remind you that, as a fan, you will never lose hope, just as I will never lose hope in Boston College.
No matter how long the losing streak is or the number of years without championships, you will be a fan of your teams for life. I have spent three years of my life at Boston College and I will love their teams forever. Time is where the hope lies when there is no hope on the field. In time, anything is possible for your franchise or your university. The feeling of despair and anguish points you to the future. You start saying things like, “We’re building for the future” and “Trust the Process.” A true sports fan never loses hope; it just sometimes moves to a distant place. This is where I am with my sports teams. As Henrik Lundqvist gets older and the ACC gets tougher, I still have hope. Even beyond just hope, I know one thing: Boston College will rise again … but in time.