Ode to the Superfan

I’d never been invited to a football party until this year’s showdown between BYU and Utah. I enjoy sport, but I don’t wear red or blue. I try to step back from a simple focus to the action on the field to see a larger picture. What I see is a much larger picture somehow controlled by men and women who transform themselves into Superfans. Thank goodness for the Superfans. Without these dedicated individuals sports would not be what they are today. They suffer persecution for their team, they pay for the privilege to be a part of the action, they wear the clothes, the wigs, the giant foam fingers, they apply the war paint. It is they who put the home in home-court, sounding the voice of approval and disgust, administrators of the standing ovation. Yes Superfan, without you there would be no sport. Competition changes without you. I see the Superfan being as important as the Superstar—the man we pay to see play—for if no one hoists up the man above his competitors, there is no superstar. I watch the Superfans. They make me wonder. What events will occur on behalf of their passion? Will a new Superstar be crowned champion? Will the referee make the right call? Will the potential corporate sponsor sign on the line? Will another young man reach his dream and make millions on the backs of the Superfan? What sneakers are you wearing Superfan? Whose jersey do you don? When are you watching TV? What magazines do you read? I watch them, and I listen, and this is sport to me.