In sports, rooting is fundamental. The inherent dualism of winning and losing encourages the taking of sides. This involves, for most people near major television markets, an implied sort of regionalism. Just as the youthful process of developing the tastes and associations that we all eventually cobble into a fluid concept of identity requires choosing what we feel most closely resembles ourselves, or the selves we perceive in ourselves, rooting also involves a certain degree of attachment. There’s a distinct thrill in referring to our favorite teams as ‘we’, a connection that allows us to impart meaning onto something so obviously arbitrary.
This attachment, like most attachments, suggests a degree of loyalty. And loyalty in this western culture is most often seen as a virtue, as a trait to be admired. We often hear the expression, “loyal fan(s),” passed around as euphemism implying “good fan(s).” This understanding of morality also implies its opposite as an equal truth. If loyalty connotes dignity and strength of character, then conversely infidelity suggests a lack of virtue and the trappings of an intrinsically weak character.
The problem with these types of value judgments is how we apply them to sports. Our emotional attachments to our favorite sports teams lead us to perceive players not as the employees of major international corporations, men with jobs and self interests like the rest of us, but as symbolic representatives of our cities, our states, ourselves. The disconnect here between fans and players lies in the fact that sports, at its heart, is business. The players on your favorite team are not from your town. They aren’t the owners’ sons. They don’t know that you bought their jerseys and have watched every game since you were eight. They are men with jobs, seeking to stay employed and seeking the best possible working relationships they can find.
Free Agency, in particular, seems to be troublesome in this regard. We all look forward to the excitement of the offseason, of the possibility of our teams’ improving through the addition of new talent. But with addition also comes subtraction. Seeing a former player for our favorite team in a new uniform, representing a different place, can be disconcerting. An amicable departure, at best, leaves us with a certain longing, like an old friend who moves away. But less congenial circumstances can leave us feeling jilted, betrayed, like the sight of an unfaithful ex-lover with someone new.
No one has been hit harder in recent years by the perception of this kind of sports infidelity than Lebron James. Despite the fact that no one has yet made a reasonable argument that James’ former job with the Cavaliers was more favorable in terms of potential for on-court success than his position with the Heatles, nearly everyone seems to have been personally offended by his choice to leave. James is nearly universally seen as a villain, a soulless mercenary who betrayed the love and trust of an entire region, and not as a man who simply saw an opportunity to get a better job and took it.
Now, with the Heat having taken a 2-0 series lead on the incumbent Eastern Conference Champs, what I’m left to wonder is how winning might rearrange this narrative. If Miami wins a title this year or next, will the ire that James and company have born over the past year be softened? Will Lebron James again be appreciated as the fantastic round-ball warrior that he is? I have to think that he will, that winning might eventually absolve him of his particular crime.
And I also have to think that all this is pretty unfortunate, that someone was publically derogated for seeking a better life.