In this weather I wear my black Man U toque, a gift from my sister when she lived in the UK some years ago. On Saturday morning I was in the Starbucks across the street from work when the barista asked me if I wanted to know the score.
"They lost to Pompey?" I asked.
"1-0, a penalty. They dominated the entire game, hit the post, had the ball cleared off the line, but they lost," he told me.
"Well, all there is to hope for now is for Chelsea to the lose," I told him.
United crashed out of the FA Cup Saturday morning losing 1-0 to Portsmouth in the quarter finals. I couldn't see the game, but checked the result online and read the game summary. Pretty much as my coffee slinger described. As I settled into my chair and got ready for my 12-hour shift, I gradually got over my feelings of shock and dismay and remembered that my team is second in the Premiership and doing well in the Champion's League. Yeah, this isn't 1999 all over again, but it's a good year in the making. And there was the Chelsea tie to look forward to.
One of the essential realities of fandom is that there is going to be another team that you hate almost as much as you love the one you cheer for. In football, that used to be Arsenal because it was the only other team that gave United much trouble. Now that team is Chelsea. The Russian-made mini-dynasty is tribute to the power of money in modern sport and at times the side can actually be a pleasure to watch, but that is the exception. Its steady rise to domination is a tribute to the tactical wisdom of Jose Mourino. He knows how to neutralize another side and played his pieces on the field accordingly. The New Jersey Devils of soccer. Successful but without style. Now the Chosen One is gone, and the team has lost some of its grinding swagger.
Saturday afternoon it was away to Barnsley, a side in a lower division and a prohibitive underdog. As the game wore on I'd check the BBC Sport(s) site for the score and was stunned to see that the home side had scored. From then on I was clicking back about every five minutes for updates. Low and behold the minnow ate the whale!
My morning misery was gone in a flash. Yeah, my team lost. At least it was to another Premiership side. Chelsea? Gonged by a Championship team in danger of relegation to League One. They don't make upsets much bigger than that.
My partner asks me from time to time why I take so much pleasure from seeing my sporting enemies stumble: Chelsea, the Ottawa Senators, Dallas Cowboys, others come along as needs be. My answer does not satisfy her. I want my team to win. The odds of my team always winning are about zero. I don't want my biggest rivals to win. They all face the same odds of perpetual victory, but will occasionally grab the brass ring. That hurts. It's a fundamental injustice. Those victories are never deserved, just as mine are the product of brilliance and imagination.
Even more confusing for the uninitiated is the hierarchy of sports hatred. The further away you get from real rivalry or perceived usurper status, the easier it is to accept defeat or be gracious in the success of others. Arsenal? A stylish, attractive side that has done wonders for English football. I hope they do well, though not too well. The Montreal Canadiens? It's important for pro hockey for the Habs to do well. Montreal is a fantastic hockey town and two decades of relative mediocrity has served to humble the Habs Nation. They don't go around acting like they own the Stanley Cup anymore. Plus, they aren't the Senators.
I suspect that there are people who will never understand this instinct. But it comes from a primal place. Seeing the mighty fail or my enemy's enemy vanquished are both satisfying. Think about the New York Football Giants. Didn't that upset feel good? And didn't it feel good to see the New England Geniuses laid low by people just as smart as them? And when your team loses to an arch enemy, doesn't it feel good to see that side kayoed in the next round? Yup.
I'm not above these base feelings if they can soothe my failures, make me feel better about my fan choices, and give me faith that next time, my team will be perfect.
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