Sports Identification

This first post comes from a budding interest in sports, Chuck Klosterman’s Eating the Dinosaur, and many late night talks with Nate.

This is an exercise in extending ideas I have about why we read books, watch films, listen to music, or look at photographs, paintings, etc. We have a culture filled with these aesthetic objects that represent aspects of human life. Yet, it is still unclear to me, why they exist. What human need do these representations fulfill? We experience works of art and culture through our bodily senses and process them through the mind. As we read, view, and listen to these works, we both feel and think. Do works of art and culture fulfill (evolutionary) emotional and/or intellectual needs for humans? Why do we find pleasure in experiencing these works, especially the ones that may bring us grief or frustration? These are some of the larger questions that will fuel the following exploration into sports culture.

Nate is teaching me to pay attention to the 3-Dimensional elements of sports. Beyond each official sports matchup, TV and radio stations broadcast a multitude of human stories. These broadcasts tell viewers stories about the individual lives of the sports figures we root for. As we watch these stories, we begin to identify with the sports figures. They become not only players on a sports team, but public figures whose lives some fans know more intimately than that of their own neighbors. We choose favorite sports players, not solely based on their physical prowess, but also on their personal values and actions as represented on ESPN and in Sports Illustrated. If we share the same values, we recognize aspects of ourselves in these sports figures. As their public images saturate sports broadcasting, we feel as if we know Ray Allen, Paul Pierce, Tom Brady, or Tiger Woods. But, do we?

In Eating the Dinosaur (2009), Chuck Klosterman highlights how a media driven sports community creates fields of expectation that often eclipse the reality of an actual sports player’s skills and accomplishments. Klosterman uses the example of Houston Rocket’s Ralph Sampson, whose impressive physical build (7-foot-4) and finesse made sports commentators and fans believe Sampson would “revolutionize the game.” While Sampson had a solid career in the NBA, he ultimately did not meet the high expectations of fans and critics. Yet, as Klosterman points out, fans only saw the media’s representation of Sampson’s unfulfilled promise, ignoring the reality of Sampson’s actual accomplishments (three-time College Player of the Year, four-time NBA All Star). Fans felt personally disappointed by Sampson; but why? Why do sports fans have personal investments in players? What purpose does this emotional investment serve?


In the 30 for 30 ESPN Film, Without Bias, Kirk Fraser tells the tragic story of Len Bias, the University of Maryland basketball star who died of a cocaine overdose two days after he was selected as the Celtic’s 1986 draft pick. Bias’ death affected not only those in his local community, but much of the nation. Fans across the country grieved for the death of Len Bias. I want to take a moment to look at this phenomenon. By varying degrees, fans watched Len Bias play throughout his college career and rooted for his draft success. Bias seemed to be a player destined for greatness. Fans were emotionally invested in Bias’ public persona and thus grieved his death as if they knew Bias personally. Yet, we must remember that most fans likely only knew Bias through broadcasts of the game, TV interviews and segments on his career. These broadcasts were only representations of Len Bias. Recorded, edited, and televised, these media-constructed representations can only depict a partial picture of Bias. Fans watch and identify with these representations and become invested in the fates of these public sports figures. We grieve for the loss of Len Bias because we recognize the potential for unfulfilled promise in our own lives. As I watched the documentary on Bias’ death, Fraser’s detailed storytelling made me grieve for Bias, and even though his death does not affect my daily life, I felt this grief both bodily and mentally. In watching films or in watching sports, we experience a range of human emotions from jubilation when our team wins to frustration and grief when they lose. When our team loses, we feel as if we lost. This identification with sports figures is much like our identification with certain characters in books and films. And I believe it serves a fundamental human purpose.

When we identify with these public figures, we allow ourselves to feel a range of human emotions through these figures. We emotionally invest in these sports players. Through this emotional investment, we use these people to dream, to play out our desires and fantasies. Who hasn’t dreamed of becoming a sports superstar? Their sports victories become our victories; their losses (and tragedies in the case of Bias) become ours. Yet, why do humans want to feel these emotions, which are experienced not directly through our own lives, but through the lives of others? We experience joy, grief, frustration, camaraderie. It seems we learn from living emotionally and intellectually with these public figures. This form of empathy (identifying with the emotions of others) is valuable. It allows us to recognize the humanity in other people, a cognitive skill that has value far beyond sports. By experiencing these emotions through the lives of others, we practice feeling emotions that will help prepare us for our “real” life victories and losses. In watching sports, we practice being human.

Note: I'll admit I'm new to this sports fan world, so this is just an idea of how sports identification works. Sports fans, please set me straight if I am way off here!