Why do we love who we love? Why do we allow ourselves to be subjected to the madness and agony of one-sided, unrequited love? Is the need to vicariously put our hopes and dreams on an individual or a team brain-based, or must we always blame it on the sentimentality of our hearts?
It’s a funny thing, sporting love. Some find it instantaneously/spontaneously, while for some, it is a slow burn. It’s a mixture of both for me. Never the same love twice, and all that. Having favourites is fun. And when your favourites end up as your sporting HGs, then it gets even better. What I do have to point out though, is that it is never about popularity nor notoriety for me. I was not, and will never be, a bandwagoner. Sure, the history aspect plays a part, but it is not necessarily a dealmaker nor a dealbreaker. The sportspersons/teams/clubs I support and unashamedly profess my love for are an interesting mixture of legends, legends-in-the-making, underdogs, the criminally-underrated, and yes, even some overrated ones.
Call it what you want–the X Factor, the spark, charisma, je ne sais quoi, star quality–I personally prefer the term “magic”. Yes, that’s what I saw in them all. Magic. That’s what got me hooked. It’s not the looks or the stats or the hype. It’s that special alchemy of terrific talent and human flaws that compel me to genuinely care. Because really, what is the point of getting emotionally-invested to the point of absurdity if they are nothing short of magical to you?
Are they worth the effort/time/trouble? Sometimes no, but more often than not, absolutely. Love is crazy, annoying, unpredictable, frustrating, exhilarating. It has the power to make you or break you. Would you have had it any other way? Hell no.
So never apologize for loving who (or what) you love in a sporting context. All feelings are valid, no matter how simple or monumental they may be. Ironically, it should not be a competition, either. How are we supposed to even accurately measure the depth, intensity, and legitimacy of one’s sporting love? Better to just accept that to each their own, no judgments.
Own it. Flaunt it. Celebrate it. And let everyone know how gloriously liberating true and sincere (sporting) love is.