[ad_1]
Astead Herndon, who has been following politics for The Times and Tottenham Hotspur, is replacing Rory Smith this week.
Let’s start with the bad: Tottenham Hotspur hasn’t won a trophy in the 13 years I’ve watched almost every game.
He didn’t win one when I was in high school in Illinois, where I decided on the Tottenham fandom after randomly picking the club in the FIFA video game. He didn’t win one when I was in college when I was a regular at the early morning meetings of the first Tottenham Hotspur Supporter’s Club in Wisconsin.
Mauricio Pochettino’s early years were spent while I was living in Boston. Back then, I would sneak away from my desk in town hall to watch games at a downtown bar. There is no trophy.
I watched two Champions League runs in Washington DC, where I live next. Once in New York, I swore to a bar that served particularly excellent chips for a full year because that’s where I watched the 2019 Champions League finals. There is no trophy.
Let’s not talk about the José Mourinho era.
Supporting Tottenham for thirteen years by American millennial standards makes me a Spurs sage. (The day Tottenham sold Gareth Bale, I drank my feelings in a bar in Wisconsin. A well-meaning friend texted, “Sorry about Gary.”) In the beginning, I had an elaborate system of strictly illegal streams. Then the NBC Premier League deal brought my team to me every weekend. Now I can stream your games directly to my phone.
My 13 doesn’t make me special, of course, it deserves more sporting victories than fans who have waited much longer than me. I could easily have chosen West Ham, Newcastle or Manchester United or (shake) Arsenal from the FIFA console. Every fan’s pain (and joy) is theirs.
But these 13 years have seen the sport change itself, influenced by a global landscape going through rapid political and cultural upheaval. It’s undeniable: The influx of money probably changed football forever. And while millions of football fans, including myself, oppose the idea of the world’s wealthiest teams joining a Super League, sport’s strongest bodies seem determined to imminent, structural change.
The specter of this type of systemic disruption sometimes feels like a reversal of what first drew me—and possibly you—to the game. I grew up watching American sports where the fans were supposed to be powerless. Your team can move around the country in search of a better stadium or better tax laws. Rivalries in college sports—but also in baseball, football, and hockey—are routinely undermined by conference arrangements in pursuit of rich television contracts.
But in football, the structures felt sacred. For example, Tottenham is still angry at Arsenal for a move made by Arsenal. more than a century ago. But most of all, there was a language of ownership in football that I liked. We are the Spurs. One fan had confidence. He denied the appearance of American sports – and especially the NFL – that bothered me the most. There, I thought, the fans don’t matter.
The Super League announcement reminded me of this feeling. This wasn’t just what the team was suggesting, it was the obvious nature of the whole thing. A group of wealthy clubs secretly conspire to disrupt a global game, eager to break centuries-old traditions and change generational rivalries, all without a bit of fan input. After all, football clubs – big or small, and especially bad ones – don’t pick up their gear and run away from their fans when things go wrong.
Still, to the advantage of maturity, I realize now that I have always seen football through rose-tinted glasses. Wealth inequality, which has increased in recent years, was already present 13 years ago. I’m sure he also had a desire to be innovative in the Midwest, a country with “American football” fans. The Spurs are definitely among the richest teams in the world, even if they are far behind some of their rivals.
But isn’t the football fandom different? This is what Premier League owners underestimate: a sense among fans that the club belongs equally to them and their support still needs to be earned. For ten years, fans of my other team, the Chicago Bulls, have complained about post-Michael Jordan management decisions (thank goodness it’s better now). Tottenham fans tried to protest the January transfer window. Every club has its crises, testing the commitment of fans – some more existential than others.
As a fan, I think I accepted that 13 years from now football would look different. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see a zombie Super League or a biennial World Cup that nobody wants except FIFA. There will be more reminders of our collective littleness as fans. More protests too.
But margins matter. And while the Super League announcement sounded familiar to my experience in American sports, the reaction to it was not.
So let’s end with good.
For 13 years, with new schools and new cities, new jobs and campaign trail, Tottenham’s rhythm has been a soothing build. Even disappointments feel good sometimes, reminding me that even though I don’t support the best team in the world, I support the funniest team in the world.
I like to think there’s a clear pessimism in the football fandom. Only a few teams have a chance to win each year, and there are no draft picks to save you. In Spurs, pessimism is a trait, not a fault. It is a bonding point between fans.
In a way, this culture helps distill the fandom to its irrational essence. There is no guarantee that the Spurs will win a trophy I can cheer for, no guarantee that my team – your team, any team – will always be closer to the top than the bottom. The gap between the club and its rivals is widening; Even Newcastle United has money now.
But for the next 13 years, and for the next 13 years after that, I’m willing to watch nearly every Tottenham game, just in case the facts as far as I know are wrong.
Back to Normal Programming Soon
That’s it for this week and Rory will be back soon. For now, contact askrory@nytimes.com for any tips, hints, complaints or ideas. excitement sometimes it also works to find it.
Have a great weekend.
[ad_2]
Source link