Fan vs. Writer: the Eternal Struggle
One of the first things I learned six years ago when I started studying journalism was "Leave your fandom at the door."
It was a simple enough concept; someone professionally credentialed to cover an athletic event, on any level, with the purpose of later relaying the game's events to an audience should, upon entering with press pass in hand, leave all allegiances and feelings at the door. The only rooting one need do when a sports writer is for good storylines and quick games (we all have deadlines, you know).
At first, I wasn't sure I could do it. I got my start covering sports for the campus newspaper at Old Dominion University, ''The Mace & Crown''. So here I was, someone intimately passionate about the school I was attending, embarking on a profession in which I would have to train without rooting for my favorite athletic teams.
No sitting courtside drung basketball games and hollering over a tie-breaking 3-pointer.
Oddly enough, though ... it happened. I quickly learned to shelf my emotions and just focus on the action on the field (or court, or diamond, or track ...). Whatever I felt was gone when I was working; instead, all I did was write what happened, use quotes where appropriate and become familiar with the idea of using statistics to help make arguments.
And over the years, the fan-writer conflict has bled over into the sports I don't cover, but merely watch as a fan. Baseball, football ... it doesn't matter. My highly-opinionated fan's eye has been clouded by the non-judgemental lens of the sports writer.
The Baltimore Orioles suffered through their 10th straight losing season, in the process firing manager and pitch coach (after the fact). Rather than throw my black-and-orange Orioles cap to the ground in disgust and booing the on-field product (or even the owner signing the checks from his skybox), I tried looking for hows, whys and ways to fix things.
Washington grabbed defeat from the jaws of victory Sunday at Green Bay, blowing a winnable game against the Packers. But while my friend Kenny cursed and groaned and threw his Redskins hat at the TV, I just ... watched.
This isn't to say I no longer love sports; it's obvious I still do (as often as I visit this site and I've chosen to make my living in sports). But my outward passion has been subdued over the years, replaced by a stoic professionalism I learned in the press box and now can't get rid of. My enjoyment of sports hasn't dwindled, it's just ... changed.
Well, for the most part. I still get pretty riled up at a NASCAR race.
I don't know if it's the adrenaline or the sheer passion I have for and against certain drivers, but I cannot be stoic during a NASCAR race. That is, I can't just sit there and watch things unfold without letting an emotional reaction or two take me over. I cheer loudly for the drivers I like, I boo mercilessly for those I hate.
Saturday night at the Bank of America 500 at Lowe's Motor Speedway, any and all professionalism I felt left the minute the ticket lady took my stub. When Matt Kenseth had problems, I cheered. When Tony Stewart ran into Kasey Kahne on pit road, I hollered and screamed at him as if he could hear me. I rallied and cried for Clint Bowyer as he surged to the front and I can't even repeat some of the things I shouted when Ryan Newman shot to the lead late, only to spin out and not win.
It seems NASCAR is my fandom's last reserve.
I want to cheer on my Redskins, feel confident that at 3-2, they have a shot at not stinking '''quite''' so bad this year. But the sports writer in me tempers that, leaving me to watch the games, feel a twinge of emotion over what goes on, but ultimately analyze and break down the hows and the whats, not the "Woohoo!" and the "Here we go, boys!"
I love sports; always have, always will. And there are still times where I have a strong opinion that I have to deliver, regardless of my professional standing or what my job might be doing to the rest of my sporting life. I still cheer, I still boo, just not as ... adamantly as before.
Unless we're talking cars driving fast in circles. Then I'm as passionate and animated as Jenna Jameson.
Only my passion's real.
It was a simple enough concept; someone professionally credentialed to cover an athletic event, on any level, with the purpose of later relaying the game's events to an audience should, upon entering with press pass in hand, leave all allegiances and feelings at the door. The only rooting one need do when a sports writer is for good storylines and quick games (we all have deadlines, you know).
At first, I wasn't sure I could do it. I got my start covering sports for the campus newspaper at Old Dominion University, ''The Mace & Crown''. So here I was, someone intimately passionate about the school I was attending, embarking on a profession in which I would have to train without rooting for my favorite athletic teams.
No sitting courtside drung basketball games and hollering over a tie-breaking 3-pointer.
Oddly enough, though ... it happened. I quickly learned to shelf my emotions and just focus on the action on the field (or court, or diamond, or track ...). Whatever I felt was gone when I was working; instead, all I did was write what happened, use quotes where appropriate and become familiar with the idea of using statistics to help make arguments.
And over the years, the fan-writer conflict has bled over into the sports I don't cover, but merely watch as a fan. Baseball, football ... it doesn't matter. My highly-opinionated fan's eye has been clouded by the non-judgemental lens of the sports writer.
The Baltimore Orioles suffered through their 10th straight losing season, in the process firing manager and pitch coach (after the fact). Rather than throw my black-and-orange Orioles cap to the ground in disgust and booing the on-field product (or even the owner signing the checks from his skybox), I tried looking for hows, whys and ways to fix things.
Washington grabbed defeat from the jaws of victory Sunday at Green Bay, blowing a winnable game against the Packers. But while my friend Kenny cursed and groaned and threw his Redskins hat at the TV, I just ... watched.
This isn't to say I no longer love sports; it's obvious I still do (as often as I visit this site and I've chosen to make my living in sports). But my outward passion has been subdued over the years, replaced by a stoic professionalism I learned in the press box and now can't get rid of. My enjoyment of sports hasn't dwindled, it's just ... changed.
Well, for the most part. I still get pretty riled up at a NASCAR race.
I don't know if it's the adrenaline or the sheer passion I have for and against certain drivers, but I cannot be stoic during a NASCAR race. That is, I can't just sit there and watch things unfold without letting an emotional reaction or two take me over. I cheer loudly for the drivers I like, I boo mercilessly for those I hate.
Saturday night at the Bank of America 500 at Lowe's Motor Speedway, any and all professionalism I felt left the minute the ticket lady took my stub. When Matt Kenseth had problems, I cheered. When Tony Stewart ran into Kasey Kahne on pit road, I hollered and screamed at him as if he could hear me. I rallied and cried for Clint Bowyer as he surged to the front and I can't even repeat some of the things I shouted when Ryan Newman shot to the lead late, only to spin out and not win.
It seems NASCAR is my fandom's last reserve.
I want to cheer on my Redskins, feel confident that at 3-2, they have a shot at not stinking '''quite''' so bad this year. But the sports writer in me tempers that, leaving me to watch the games, feel a twinge of emotion over what goes on, but ultimately analyze and break down the hows and the whats, not the "Woohoo!" and the "Here we go, boys!"
I love sports; always have, always will. And there are still times where I have a strong opinion that I have to deliver, regardless of my professional standing or what my job might be doing to the rest of my sporting life. I still cheer, I still boo, just not as ... adamantly as before.
Unless we're talking cars driving fast in circles. Then I'm as passionate and animated as Jenna Jameson.
Only my passion's real.
posted by Jeff Cunningham at 10:44 PM
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