18 Things Sports Fans Do But Won't Admit

Image via Complex Original

Peyton Manning, Alex Rodriguez, and LeBron James were all nationally derided for being ringless before they all won championships. But that hasn't pulled the national media monkey out of their asses. Now it's a second title, steroids, and Jordan's legacy, respectively holding them down. That's because setting those nigh-impossible standards is apparently the best way to appeal to a large audience.

To watch them continuously falter against unreal expectations is better than watching them achieve everything imaginable. After all, the reason that none of us are playing in the pros is because we failed time and time again in the amateur ranks. To watch the best who ever lived fall on the national stage is comforting to all of us who sucked on levels only Jenna Jameson can relate to.

The only job on the planet where everybody who doesn't do it is better than the guys cashing the paychecks. Being a referee is a thankless chore. A thankless $173,000 a year chore. Okay, that doesn't sound too bad. But watching a Little League dad go ballistic on a kid umping for a hot dog is a memory we all acquired at some point growing up.

We all love Bill Simmons. It's hard to find a better "Sports Guy," in the media right now. Of all the things ESPN does wrong, Bill Simmons isn't one of them. The man knows his stuff which is why we hold him to a higher standard than, say, a Skip Bayless.

So you can imagine how obnoxious a Chicago White Sox fan would find a particular line from his book Now I Can Die in Peace, a title about the torture and subsequent jubilation of Red Sox fandom. That's because at one point the book says "Only Cubs fans know how we feel." That's a reference to the only two franchises who've endured a championship drought of 86+ years. Or at least it would be if it were true. While Boston snapped their streak at 86 years, the White Sox did it the next season at...88 years. All this constant whining from the northeast (and subsequent media coverage) over the hardships of Beantown summers was nauseating to the Midwest and enabled a generation of "woe is me" fans.

That is to say nothing of being a devotee who roots for the Phoenix Suns, Atlanta Falcons, Texas Rangers, or any other squad who's never won a title.

Did you watch this past Academy Awards with your girlfriend, wife, or more likely, your mom? And in that time did you think it pathetic that she/they were so enamored by both the red carpet and the fashion choices of others? Well hold on a second, cowboy.

It may be hard to accept but your discussions over "When to foul," and "The perfect time for a play-action pass," are similarly...bizarre. When you crunch numbers and stress over Fantasy drafts, it's tough to look down your nose at anybody. And if you have to bite your tongue at the stupidity of retweeting a celebrity selfie, so be it, because everyone else puts up with your sabermetric discussions and statistical comparisons of the best big men in NBA history.

Every once in a while somebody running for president gets asked a sports question to appeal to male America's baser aforementioned instincts.

In 2004, candidate John Kerry famously called Lambeau Field "Lambert Field," and looked like an elitist desperately trying to relate to the common man. President Obama repeatedly referred to the White Sox home as "Cominskey Park," and clearly had no idea who DeWayne Wise was after the man saved Mark Buehrle's perfect game, calling him "Weiss," instead. When the man fills out a bracket, people inexplicably analyze it. On the other side of the aisle, Mitt Romeny hopelessly appealed to people who probably shouldn't be voting with his own poor foray into sports talk. It all becomes fodder to laugh at their utter lack of sports comprehension.

But you know how a politician, any politician, should respond to inquiries about sports? Just say "How the fuck should I know? I have a life. I've accomplished things. I don't care about quarterback rating and FanGraphs. What does it say about a person who does? When your life has meaning you don't sit around watching SportsCenter all day." It would sting a little and he'd lose the male vote 98-2, but at least a modern day presidential candidate would've told it like it is for once.

We'll give Texas Tech fan (Jeff Orr), who allegedly called Marcus Smart the N-word, the benefit of the doubt. But his defense that he only called the 19-year-old amateur "a piece of crap," doesn't exactly make him come off as a misunderstood hero. Yelling shit at players who get media coverage when they reciprocate shows what type of person you are when the onus is solely upon other people. You can scream whatever you want because the players are supposed to be better than that. But you? You paid your $50 so all game is fair. 

In reality, we need a sports version of The Purge to give LeBron one night a year to right hook a drunken jackoff publicly heckling about his mom and Delonte West. And in retrospect we'd exonerate the 2004-05 Pacers. Those beer-hucking fans at the Palace in Detroit deserved to get their asses beat. Granted a lot (maybe all) of the fans who got attacked were innocent. But Ron Artest's heart was undoubtedly in the right place that night. 

Joakim Noah certainly has a way of irking fellow big men, random drunks, and even entire cities. But one thing's for sure, dude can play. His hustle and grit is appealing in a generation where we fear our millions are spoiling our pros. There's a simultaneous acknowledgment of his on-court demeanor as well as his boisterous persona. Still he's the rare player that can relate to the working man and draw the interest of a GM with a championship in mind.

If you want a recent example, look no further then the NFC Championship/Richard Sherman "controversy." What the hell was that, exactly? People who simultaneously complained about the "No Fun League," had a problem with a guy getting worked up and calling Michael Crabtree a "sorry receiver."

Wow, cover the kids' fuckin' ears.

In an instant Twitter became littered with a bunch of falsely indignant poons acting as if they were truly offended. As the argument over "Whether Sherman went too far," was waged by doofuses nationwide, a second debate revolving around race emerged reminding us why we can't have nice things, because every argument devolves into trolling from way too outraged dipshits who don't see the irony in saying something far worse.

Maybe you're not the type of fan that obnoxiously screams at the tube every time the opposition does something right. It was unrealistic to expect the 'D' not to allow a first down all season anyway. It happens.

But you still get irked by the fact that your team collapsed under the pressure. What Michigan hoops fan doesn't rue the day that Chris Webber called a non-existent timeout? How about Boston fans holding an 18-year grudge against Bill Buckner? What about Cubs fans turning on their own and making Steve Bartman into a 30 for 30 subject?

We've all had our run-ins with blackout rage and it's not pretty. But when you do, take a breath, and think about whether it's worth outing yourself as a dickhead on Twitter. Besides, the harsh reality is that you still have to go to work on Monday even if your squad is the last team standing.

We realize we're in the minority when we spout off about grown men wearing the jerseys of other grown men. Like Galileo, we'll have to settle for being vindicated after death on that issue. The point is, we all laugh at groupies; but when you're buying drinks at the bar, taking selfies for Instagram or waiting in line at the mall for autographs, what high ground are you standing on? Technically you're not banging them for gifts, but if those chromosomes had worked out differently, it's anybody's guess. 

Jameis Winston, Ben Roethlisberger, Kobe, the list goes on. When a rival player is accused of a crime that "presumption of innocence" bullshit is for bleeding heart weenies. But when your own star player is accused of some hacked-up charge, then anyone who mentions it online will feel the fury of a thousand-man defense.

Lets take the most recent example. When you sort through many sports site comment boards during the Jameis Winston "to charge or not to charge?" decision you see some of the worst of online dicketry. Comments like "That [redacted] just looking for a payday $$$," or "She wanted it," and far worse are the norm. When you check the screenname it's almost always "Nolesfan4lyfe," or some such variation. Suffice it to say they're probably not the most objective or reasoned responses.

Somewhere, in some alternate universe, people online type stuff like "Heavens, I'm a fan but I sincerely hope this isn't true. The rule of law should take precedent over a game, and I certainly wish both [blank] and his accuser get a fair trial." We just happen to live in the one where people write "[Person, place or thing] sux dik, stfu."

You can use sports to mindlessly love, or mindlessly hate. Both are healthy options. While the dickriders of the world will back their hometown favorites, that love only extends for the length of time that they're, you know, hometown favorites. When LeBron uttered the phrase "Take my talents to South Beach," he felt how quickly the tide could turn against him becoming the biggest villain in the NBA. We understood Cleveland's anger, though we didn't quite understand the American flag-Iranian treatment his jerseys got. But the rest of the nation? That was confusing because, at the time, there were far more deserving people to heap your anger upon.

We already mentioned the criminal element of this. So the less serious example of this picking and choosing is obvious with steroid users in America's pastime. Some get hated (Barry Bonds) while some remain beloved (David Ortiz). But if your gripe with them is that they destroyed the integrity of the game, then they're both equally guilty regardless of laundry, attitude, or whatever.

Everyone loves an underdog and when a team is packed with overpaid,underproducing talent, the natural inclination is to pull for the opposition. Most of us see ourselves as underpaid and overlooked, so it's organic to root for our darkhorse on-field representation. It's why practically every March is built around Cinderella runs and major unexpected upsets. Besides, watching the same competition get chumped annually like that of above (Just steal the fucking ball!!) gets old in a hurry.

Unless, of course, you don't. For every fairweather fan who goes out and buys a Wichita State jersey, there's a dude with LeBron's home, away, and alternate uniforms freshly pressed in his closet. 

Casual fans, we're looking your way. But when it comes to the Olympics we're all casual fans. Every four years our passion burns like an Olympic flame and then after a glance at the events, it burns out like a Russian Olympic flame. Your nationalistic sense of pride is quickly extinguished after realizing there are no bragging rights in claiming the gold for synchronized swimming.

Same with the World Cup. America routinely rejects soccer until that obligatory four-year itch needs to be scratched. Then you watch Landon Donovan and, um...some other U.S. player, run back and forth, kicking the ball out of bounds and ending in a scoreless tie before thinking "Oh, right," and turning off the TV for another four. It won't (or shouldn't) stop you from watching the game and pretending to be interested at a bar, but you just have to mimic the one aficionado who can tell the difference between the sports exciting and non-exciting moments.

It doesn't take more than a week of writing/talking about sports before somebody accuses you of bias. A lot of commenters will let you know what they think when you list Kobe ahead of LeBron (or vice-versa) usually ending their input with the letters "SMH."

But when you're hometown squad is locked into a dogfight with an opponent in a big match-up and the opponent puts the game away, the announcer screams and you share with your viewing party your disdain for his bias. Like banging your foot on the table and getting laughed at, his enthusiasm only serves to pour salt in your butthole. 

If you're ever in a position where every single word you say is analyzed and scrutinized you might have a different point of view on the subject.

Many of us have been rooting for a team since long before our first day of school. We're simply following in the proud tradition that our fathers, grandfathers, and great grandfathers established before us. But as you get older an epiphany sets in that you're rooting for other people that you've never met who don't know, or want to know, you. It makes us all question why we're so emotionally dependent upon the outcome of a 4th-and-goal in the Super Bowl, let alone a regular season loss in Week Three. Don't get us wrong, we all do it and--*looks up top*--oh wait, never mind.