Fanatics

Tennis and golf fans are a curious case. They root for one, but also celebrate great shots of the other. But they are not neutral. They do like one over the other, but don’t withhold respect for any player. Virtually no one is.

We should take sides, especially on matters of public interest. Neutrality is the refuge of the passive, the indifferent and the indecisive. If we are silent amidst oppression, we unwittingly take the side of the oppressor and even reinforce it. In legislation, it is called abstention.

Even media is not neutral. It is biased, but only for the truth. It is called responsible journalism. But when a columnist interprets facts, it becomes opinion we are free to disagree with, but should never replace with ours. That is freedom of the press and of expression. We cannot box it in much less silence it.

Fans just normally enjoy the spectacle when their sports heroes play, win or lose. But the moment they follow them to their private space, fans become stalkers. Worse, if they don’t see anything wrong with their sports icons, they become fanatics. Just as when followers no longer tell right from wrong because the leader they so revere says so, be it in politics or religion. We’re not even talking about cults yet.

Fans tend to get too involved in the heat of the moment, they roar to celebrate but heckle and pelt in disgust at unsportsmanlike conduct, bad calls or biased refereeing. Worse, they attack. Stabbed at the back, Monica Seles rerouted her way to tennis greatness.

Shocking, but that would seem to look like a minor incident compared to soccer, the sport most notorious for deadly stampedes and riots. One of the worst riots in soccer history is the Heysel Stadium Disaster in 1985 that left at least 39 people dead and over 600 injured. How watching sports end life invites deeper exploration of odd human behavior, to also explain why a cop shoves a harmless elderly or guns down a person running away.

But moving on from a bitter loss is easier said than done. Quite a number of soccer fans took their own life, unable to bear the loss that’s not even theirs, but of their team. Fan depression is real. I leave it to the experts on how to deal with it.

But for average fans like most of us, emotional detachment is the key, not a private message, the open secret passage. It’s just a game. It ruins your mood, maybe. But life, no way. Players don’t even know or care about you. Win or lose, they’re paid good money while fans starve to buy ticket entry. Same way with politics where diehards curse and attack each other for candidates locked in mortal enmity but suddenly found mutual amity. Where before they threw mud at each other, now they sanitize each other’s blunder.

Tricky, these are realities that should bring us back to our senses. In any game in life, be alert to hold back when the line between support and involvement thins out. Chill. Eat some ice cream. Any flavor, except mocha, the least favorite of my mini-me. I mean you, son.