fan behavior

One of my third grade classmates, a skinny little guy named Bryan, was a huge fan of NASCAR. His favorite driver was Jeff Gordon and his favorite car was the yellow M&M’s car. Upon doing some research for this newsletter, I learned that Gordon never drove the M&M’s car, which makes me realize now that Bryan had an expansive adoration for the sport. Bryan wore yellow t-shirts and yellow sunglasses and carried a yellow lunchbox; so either his favorite color was yellow, or he was looking to be a transformer. Bryan brought his passion for NASCAR into every realm of his schoolwork, completing book reports on NASCAR drivers and applying the physics of the racetrack to science lessons. Everyone knew Bryan was the NASCAR kid and to this day, I can’t eat a (yellow!) package of peanut M&M’s without thinking about Bryan.

Aside from horse girls, whose interests seem to never wane, we expect childhood interests to peter out as we grow up. Friends and extracurriculars enter the picture, as does the bummer element of self-consciousness that causes us to reconsider our public affinity for the things we used to love. It seems like overnight, encyclopedic knowledge of whales and dolphins (guilty) becomes less socially acceptable. It’s a tricky balance as an adolescent to deal with everything else going on in your life, let alone explaining to your grandparents around your birthday that instead of another set of books about the deep sea, you’d like a Britney Spears CD.

My own parents were guilty of this, always for my sisters and I, but specifically for my friend Megan. We were both Harry Potter fans, but Megan’s interest far surpassed mine. I remember a time my mom came home from running errands and dropped a Harry Potter sticker book on the counter. “I saw this and thought of Megan, give it to her next time you see her.” The move was generous and thoughtful on all counts, but we were 17 at that point. Far past the fandom and well on our way to finding new interests as we approached our next phase of life. What was a college-bound Megan going to do with a Harry Potter sticker book?

Hogwarts aside, I do think there is some magic to finding a new interest as an adult. Our lives are busier and more stressful than they were as kids, so finding something novel to break up the monotony feels like cracking a code. There is excitement and joy in a new pursuit, which completely overshadows the self-consciousness we may have felt when we were younger.

As adults, we arguably have easier access to exploring new interests. We drive our own cars, spend our own money, and manage our own schedules. Gone are the days of waiting for a parent to drive you to Target for a new Gameboy cartridge — you can do it all yourself! Our broad social circles allow us to find community in new interests, too. It’s unlikely a 7-year-old has a coworker whose sister also recently discovered badminton, you know? When it comes to fan communities, Crossfitters, Swifties, and Disney Adults get bad raps. While I think their waterworks over rope drops and general speculation about everything take it too far, I feel genuine happiness when I think about their dedication. They’ve found something outside of the minutia of daily life to truly enjoy.

I even have fan behavior of my own, which at present is taking the shape of Formula One. The true heads would call me a bandwagon fan since I didn’t start to care until Netflix dropped Drive to Survive. But does it really matter how we become fans or where we start, as long as we find something? Sure, it took a Real Housewives-esque presentation of the hot drivers and their egomaniacal team principals for me to get involved, but I walked away with a passion for the sport because of the show. F1 race weekends are almost ceremonious in our house as we wear our team swag, pour some champagne, and spend two hours guessing the duration of pit stops.

And sure, the newest season of Drive to Survive irritated me with its lack of racing and countless shots of Christian Horner driving some sort of hunting Jeep around his palatial estate, but it also adds to my experience as a fan. It’s another show to watch, another Reddit thread to read, and another conversation I can have with someone who asks me if Checo was named after that Checo (reader, he was).

Aside from Formula 1, the Olympics, and tennis Grand Slams, I would not consider myself a huge fan of sports. Jozef, on the other hand, is by far the biggest sports fan I know. When there’s not a soccer match, a college football game, or a NASCAR race to watch, he lets ESPN play whatever’s next; Jai Alia, cricket, the college Word Series. He sets alarms to willingly get up at 7:30 on a Saturday morning to watch what feels like any and all Premier League matches, donning whichever hat or jersey corresponds to the team playing.

Where his true fandom shines, though, is in live sporting events. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve been in a far-flung corner of the universe and Jozef has found a soccer game for us to attend. It took me awhile to get on board with pursuing soccer around the world since it’s never been my favorite thing to watch. I’ve since learned that it’s more of a cultural experience than anything else; we’ve learned about the secret beer houses next to small stadiums in Iceland, heard the official team song sung by 40,000 Sevilla fans, and tailgated with a bunch of Peruvians outside of El Clásico in Madrid.

And of course, we have soccer at home. Not only does Nashville SC play an 8-minute drive down the road, but the people we’ve met through soccer have become our nearest and dearest in Nashville. While my attendance usually hinges on UV index and the potential of hot dogs being available, Jozef goes to every home game; rain or shine. It wasn’t until midway through last season that I realized how lucky he is to have direct access to something he loves so much. One of his favorite things in the world happens just down the road, for eight months out of the year. That access is something to be celebrated, like, why wouldn’t he go?

May we all be as fortunate to have this kind of exposure to our interests. Personally, I’d love to be able to attend David Sedaris readings on a monthly basis. For my dad, it’s a seat in the audience of SNL. For my grandma, it’s Hallmark Christmas movies airing all year long. And for Bryan, my third grade classmate, it’s his current position as a curator at the National Corvette Museum.