Anyone can be a fan. Anyone can ride the rollercoaster of triumph and despair, depending on the state of play and the score when the final whistle blows. But the trouble with fanaticism is that it clouds your judgement and tears your emotions to shreds. True lovers of the game take it up a level, to a state of deep and intense commitment that is akin to a marriage, rather than a whirlwind romance. Why be a fan when you can be a lifelong supporter?
Despair. Betrayal. Broken trust. I have to question whether all the love, pride and emotional investment has been worth it. Have I been taken for a ride? Some days are so dark I find myself writing scathing, hateful things on Facebook…and then deleting before I post the vile tirades that echo the loathing and pain in my soul.
Another weekend, another dismal rugby performance watched in utter disbelief. Like a lover scorned, I ask myself if this is really the side that my nascent fandom has come to love and respect. I’ve only recently started paying attention to rugby and the glorious beauty of the game, and now it’s broken. And life seems to have lost its shine. Facebook is littered with souls similarly in distress, pouring out their pain and confusion in a constant stream of shock, abuse and dire threats of never ever watching another game.
How did I – a guy who, as recently as two years ago, had no interest in rugby – suddenly find my weekends filled with these fanatic tendencies? I follow the matches (albeit through social media, where I am most comfortable with life), the players, the selection and the injury updates. I Know Stuff about rugby to a depth usually reserved for Terry Pratchett, cheese and road trips. Stats. Winning (or losing) streaks. The whole lot. After each disastrous loss, I rage at the coach and reach out to our Minister of Twitter, Fikile Mbulala, alternately demanding his intervention or the coach’s head on a platter.
And this got me thinking. All this fury and negative energy is unhealthy, but I can’t simply give up on rugby just like that. I’m hooked for life but I can’t go on like this. The fear, pain and rage are going to kill me. Sadly, that is the way with many extreme fanatics. My outlook and my fandom needs to change if I am to survive.
Ok, let’s take a deep breath and step back. Fanaticism is wildly excessive and often irrational devotion. It grips my focus like nothing else until all I can see are the rugby scores, and with the current string of losses they bleed more terror into my veins than any religious or occult number you care to mention. Fanaticism is therefore very Bad. But rugby is very Good. What needs to change, then, is my fanaticism. Maybe I just need to be a rugby supporter, and not a rugby fan.
So what’s the difference? Well, it’s this. My fanaticism – my wild, uncontrolled devotion – is hooked into the moment of the match, and cannot see beyond the 80th minute and that scoreboard. My mood, energy, benevolence, good humour, smile, and reason to live all hinge on these fraught 80 minutes.
Support is a very different animal. It’s less dramatic and more stoic. It has a longer term view that focuses more on the game than on the personalities on and off the pitch. As a rugby supporter my interest and devotion are spread beyond the field of play and consider things like player development, school rugby, and the promotion and advocacy of this beautiful, rugged game.
As a supporter, I live beyond the season of rugby, and can see further down the road to where the young players currently being brought up through South Africa’s many development academies will step onto the pitch as representatives of their communities, provinces and our country.
Simply put, if rugby fanaticism is like a holiday romance with all its heady highs and lows, then being a rugby supporter is like a marriage: it takes long-term commitment, for better or for worse, and nurtures a deeper love of the game.
Rugby, I’m ready to take this love to the next level. Will you be mine?
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