This can’t be happening.
What do the 5 stages of grief have to do with sports fans you wonder? Just ask the diehard Wrigley Field denizens and they will provide you with enough angst and anecdote to write a Ph.D. dissertation in clinical psychology.
The five stages of grief were introduced by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in the book On Death and Dying (Scribner, 1969). She posited that the stages of grief are universal and cross all socio-ethnic-economic classifications.
Now I know that losing a World Cup match is in no way comparable to the loss of death—though after losing to Germany 7-1 in Rio, there are Brazilians that might disagree—but our team, MY team winning or losing is so palpable … so visceral … so emotional … why shouldn’t the 5 stages of grief apply to sports fans?
Anyone that grew up with ABC Wild World of Sports on Saturday afternoons—back in the blurry days of television when the only channels we got were from the three major networks and maybe one or two local stations—knows the truth of Jim McKay’s words, when he intoned the immortal phrase, “Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sports … the thrill of victory … and the agony of defeat … the human drama of athletic competition.”
I just want to be alone.
Denial
Our first response to loss—and all sports fans, even those from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, inevitably experience this—is to deny the reality of what just happened.
Some Seattle Seahawks fans have entered a state of cognitive limbo and still have no memory of anything after the :23 mark in the fourth quarter of Super Bowl XLIX. Shhhh. Don’t say anything. Russell Wilson is still about to hand the ball off to Marshawn Lynch for the go-ahead score. Leave them in the gentle peace of unknowing.
As an ardent Ohio State Buckeye football fan, I still have no memory of most editions of The Game during the 1990s. The name Tim Biakabutuka means absolutely nothing to me. And if you ask if I remember the TV cameras panning to Coach John Cooper nervously chewing on his fingernails in such games that purportedly occurred, I categorically deny any such memory.
Returning to our favorite long-suffering fans, the Chicago Cubs faithful, is there anyone who really remembers Steve Bartman reaching out to keep Moises Alou from catching the sure-out pop-fly that would most likely have propelled the Cubbies to the World Series for the first time since 1945? October 14, 2003 for many North Side diehards disappeared from the calendar in a Florida sink hole.
As the masking effects of denial and resulting isolation no longer cocoon us from the pain of loss—I have a friend who is a Michigan football fan who hasn’t been spotted since Coach Jim Tressell and now Urban Meyer patrolled the sideline in Columbus—we move toward anger.
Anger
Can you tell I’m upset?
For those brave souls that break free of the comforting but necessarily temporary bonds of denial, the next stage of response to loss is anger.
Have you ever followed sports fans on a message board or Twitter while a game is being played? If so, you know how that many fans ride a roller coaster through all the stages of grief from play to play—a series of mini-victories and mini-losses—and especially from denial to anger … or more accurately, rage.
Denial is a protective shield our subconscious uses when we are not ready to face the pain of loss. When that emotion is deflected—though not exactly faced—from inside to outside of us, it turns to anger that can be directed just about anywhere, from inanimate objects like unforgiving rims and gusts of wind, to complete strangers wearing black and white striped shirts—old school Cardinal fans still know the name Don Denkinger from the 1985 World Series—to friends and even to the dying—namely our favorite sports heroes are flaming out in the big game.
But all true sports fans knows that most anger is directed at that person we hate to love or love to hate most, the coach—or manager for my British Premiere League mates.
Go into any sports bar during football season and you will hear profound insights bellowed at the TV. Run the ball … pass the ball … stop playing to not-to-lose … stay with what is working … it’s so predictable I can call the play every time.
You idiot!
The words “idiot” and “sucks” are used extensively and in a variety of creative word combinations, often quite original in expression.
I hate to pile on, but going back to the Super Bowl, the affable, likable, gregarious, popular Pete Carroll has not had a good offseason in how his name has been used by fans and critics alike.
Bargaining
After the red-hot flames of rage subside to burning embers, we begin to express the need to regain control over our feelings of helplessness. This often shows up in bargaining—
- If only we had made that free throw …
- If only the ref would have thrown the flag for the most obvious pass interference violation in the history of organized football …
- If only our idiot manager had brought the relief pitcher in one batter earlier …
- If only our star didn’t get injured before the playoffs began …
- If only we had handed the ball off to Marshawn Lynch …
- If … if … if …
The classic bargaining is in the phrase, “there’s always next year!”
Depression
That was a charge you idiot!
When we realize nothing can change what happened and the negotiation ends, our next response to loss is depression in a variety of forms … sadness, worry, regret, and more.
I lived in Kansas City when the 1995 Chiefs, with the best record in the AFC, lost to the Colts, the playoff team with the worst record, lost 10-7 in a bitterly cold day at Arrowhead Stadium. Is it possible for a city to suffer from depression? In the days that followed, I discovered the answer to be yes. Of course the kicker-who-shall-not-be-named is part of the city’s collective denial of that brutal loss. I’ve been told by friends that the mood in KC was similar this year after the Chiefs blew a 28-point lead and lost in playoffs to … yes, the Indianapolis Colts.
This is the moment when what we need most is a kind word or hug. (Have you ever noticed how much athletes depend on the group hug in keen moments of victory or defeat?) What we usually get is trash talk from other fans!
I need a hug.
To keep myself from taking the coward’s way out and “disappearing” after a big loss, I made a commitment to wear team gear on the day following a big game, win or lose. Does that make me noble … or masochistic?
Are you getting the idea that it is a tough journey for sports fans to overcome loss?!
Acceptance
Not everyone reaches the stage of acceptance in the course of his or her mourning.
Okay, maybe we identify just a little too personally with our favorite sports teams and heroes and take losses to heart just a little too literally!
At least I’ve got my health!
Acceptance comes differently for different people. I’m sure it helped San Antonio Spurs fans get over the heartbreaking 2013 NBA Finals Game 6 loss to the Miami Heat when they reclaimed the throne from the Heat in 2014. Ditto for 1987 Detroit Pistons fans who witnessed with horror as Larry Bird stole Game 6 of the Semifinals from them. Boston Red Sox fans had to wait 18 years to get over the 1986 World Series “ground ball heard around the world” that snatched defeat from victory.
More often than not, there is no signature moment of redemption that wipes out past sorrows in sports. We have to discover acceptance through the magic of perspective, namely, stating the obvious: There are more important things in life.
Stating the obvious is a good start, but then comes the even harder work of believing it!
Go Blue!!