On Frozen Blog

We received impassioned feedback to our season-in-review file of Monday, and perhaps predictably, it covered the emotional spectrum of the contemporary Capitals’ fanbase. For the record, we called it as we saw it. And for the record, we’re as tired of fifth-place finishes as anyone. But also for the record: we are Caps’ fans, proud ones, and our season is over, and there is, undeniably, exciting talent in this organization, and the offseason brings to our team — as it does to 13 others who missed the postseason — an ironic optimism (the losing has stopped, and management can chart a corrective course).
You should know this, too, about us: by inclination, breeding, and access to discounted beer from downtown bar maidens, we are optimists. This is not to say that we are the wearers of rose-colored glasses. A cursory perusal through Empty Maybe’s “knee-jerk” files of the season, crafted night after night, reveals a straight-shooter’s objectivism.
But through this week’s first couple of days of reaction here I found a laboratory of pyschology of the modern sports fan worth ruminating upon, and I think it worth articulating.
Some basic observations: “fan” is derivative of “fanatic,” and implicit in the designation — while not devoid of the freedom to criticize — is an allegiance to a single team above all others. A sense of, whatever our roster’s shortcomings may be, in our hearts we think our guys ultimately will prevail. It’s at times naive and even delusional, but it is undeniably bonding, and if the day arrives when cynicism ultimately triumphs over optimism in our rinks and ballfields, that’s the day I’ll take up blogging of another theme.
This topic is made more salient by my experiences just this past Saturday, with the Blogger’s salute to the end of the season at Clyde’s. What in the world did we have a basis for gathering in celebration over? A last-place finish, for the third consecutive season, and within minutes of being shut out in the season’s concluding game. And yet for the better part of three hours all I saw all about me was smiling and laughter and chit-chat about better days ahead. Also called: optimism.
No one, as best as I could tell, seemed in need of psychiatric care.
I’ve never quite understood fans’ claim of support for multiple teams within a single sport. The most obvious challenge to that premise is, who’s got your loyalty when they face one another? In a benign sense, sports teams are like armies. Really, you do have to pick a side and take up arms with it.
Also: I’ve long admired the fans of the Chicago Cubs, those hearty ever-knocked-down, only-to-rise-up-and-dust-off-their-shirts-to- cheer-on-again-their-guys guys. And gals. And as the years pass, I find myself reading the message board malevolence mavens and wishing a bit of Cubs’ fan perseverence and resolve upon them. Also called: an end to whining.
Constructive criticism of course is both healthy and welcome. After all, it took years of mainstream media indifference, apathy, and outright hostility toward both the sport of hockey in general and the Washington Capitals in particular here to give birth to a legion of committed and able hockey bloggers. You can only get so loyal a readership for so long merely by penning “The Post sucks.”
I understand perfectly the searing ache that losing delivers. What I don’t understand is the bilious bravado daily showcased by professed supporters of teams who’ve suffered nothing remotely comparable to Cubs’ fans, or pre-2004 Red Sox supporters. To make no mention of legacy ticket holders for the Los Angeles Clippers.
Bar venting with buddies is fair game; so too is Monday morning gloominess around office colleagues. But as my way of thinking here has it, by Friday you better be back behind your guys.
For the fan, sports is, at its essence, a party. Almost all of us convene around it to party. Who wants to be around the party pooper?
If I could have one wish for this offseason it wouldn’t be for the signing of big-name talents to bolster the Caps’ roster but rather the season-long suspension of fan-authored cynicism. It’s poisonous and distracting and demeaning. Share with us your concerns, of course, but at their end remind us that you want to link arms with us for the battle. When it comes to the discourse, let’s aim higher.