SHAPIRO: Heckling acceptable from sports fans

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me—right? Wrong, at least according to my colleague Benjamin Spener, who took issue with a few extreme examples of heckling at sporting events in his column last week. Spener sympathized with Michael Innocenzi, a forward on Harvard’s soccer team, who was subjected to extended mockery by Columbia fans at a recent Lions home game, primarily for not wearing socks that matched those of his Crimson teammates. I agree that heckling can cross a line, but wardrobe-related taunting and similarly harmless jeers fall well within the realm of acceptable fan behavior, however frivolous it may be.

Spener attributes the Ivy League with a certain particularism in the sense that small competitive settings accentuate heckles from the stands. He adduces the Innocenzi example to assert that such heckling can adversely affect gameplay on both sides, and that fans “should also respect all players’ need to focus on the game.” Here is where Spener, not heckling, crosses the proverbial line.

I agree with Spener’s claim that “Officials should do whatever it takes to stop intolerant behavior—sports should not be a mechanism for promoting hate.” Racism, bigotry, xenophobia, homophobia and any other variety of hate speech may be acceptable under free speech in many settings, but they have no place in the stands and should and must be policed. The same goes for excessive vulgarity. Sitting in a sports arena is a privilege, not a right. But short of these extreme forms of heckling, we, the fans and pundits, have a responsibility to preserve the sanctity of fandom.

Meet Robert S. Szasz, also known as the “Happy Heckler.” From 2000 to 2008, Szasz was a real estate developer by day, but a professional heckler for the Tampa Bay Rays by night. Szasz is said to have made Johnny Damon go 1-for-15 in a series and annoy Jose Guillen to the point where Guillen bribed him to shut up with an autographed bat. By Spener’s parameters, Szasz would likely be considered a heckling transgressor, as his attacks were targeted, audible, and recurring. However, Szasz refrained from the common heckling vices—profanity, name calling, and, of course, making fun of players’ socks. Instead, he researched players on the opposing team in order to arm himself with heckling fodder. Simply stated, Szasz’s unsanctioned commentary was clean, articulate, and effective. No line was crossed.

Sports are the culmination of a deep-seated human desire for competition, entertainment, and glory. Similar to cheering, heckling is part of mankind’s age-old need to satiate its appetite for sports rivalries. To the casual fan or nonchalant observer, heckling may appear to be little more than tossing out derisive insults at certain players on the opposing team. I’ve watched enough sports to wholeheartedly understand the rationale behind this interpretation, but I also know that it does little justice to the motive and spirit behind the seemingly casual heckle. You see, heckling, while occasionally inappropriate, is among the purest and most natural manifestations of school spirit.

Take a step back. We have little to cheer about as Columbia fans. We have fundamental problems with the success of our marquee sports and attendance numbers. Our football team is winless this season. Our campus suffers from what many have described as immutable, widespread sports apathy. Therefore, we cannot afford to demonize, or even criticize, the last remaining morsels of hope and optimism that exist at Columbia—even if they occasionally come in the form of petty insults about attire. So with school spirit teetering on the precipice of extinction, does it really make sense to lambaste the innocent insults of a few rowdy, yet appreciatively enthusiastic Lions fans? I think not.

This brings me back to the very essence—the core—of heckling. It goes hand-in-hand with perhaps the most obvious and uncontested intrinsic edge given to any team—home field advantage. Empirical evidence shows rather undeniably that teams tend to perform better on their home turf. So what actually is the advantage of playing at home? With a few exceptions, playing terrain and rules are virtually the same at all regulation-standard sporting arenas. The “advantage” comes primarily from the adrenaline and comfort of competing in front of your fans—it pumps up the home team and psyches out the visitors. Discouraging harmless jeers is like Albert Pujols calling time before a pitch to ask a fan to shut up so he can concentrate, or someone requesting that fans be quiet while a player from the opposing team shoots a free throw.

The Harvard-Columbia soccer game in which Innocenzi was heckled was a decisive match, as the Lions needed a win to keep hopes of a well-deserved Ivy title alive. In the midst of the excitement, a few fans decided to aim their enthusiasm at Innocenzi’s socks. An annoyance? Sure. A breach of heckling etiquette? Not a chance. It’s rather farfetched to imply, as Spener does, that these comments impacted Innocenzi’s play, much less the outcome of the game. Either way, all players endure heckling to some extent throughout their careers. The smart ones ignore it while others may be irritated. In any case, the fan reserves the right to heckle.

I’ll admit that heckling is usually not my forte. When I do heckle, it’s usually an involuntary reaction to an upsetting call (if you were at the Columbia men’s basketball home opener then you know what I mean). But I support heckling in its most trivial, immature, and facetious forms because it’s an inextricable part of being a fan of any sport. Interfering with inoffensive heckling is a slippery slope down the path towards obstruction of school spirit, fandom, and good old-fashioned fun.

Michael Shapiro is a List College senior majoring in history and modern Jewish studies.
sports@columbiaspectator.com