Post Super Bowl, a fan’s revelation

There is nothing worse for a longtime fan of Philadelphia sports than to be in New York as one of its teams wins a championship. Last Sunday was a unique kind of personal hell for me—with my Eagles eliminated long ago, I watched the New York Football Giants claim the Super Bowl and their place in football history.

Perhaps the only thing worse than watching this gruesome event come to pass was being surrounded by Giants fans. I use the term “fans” here somewhat loosely—it certainly seemed to me that many supporters of Big Blue this weekend couldn’t name more than three players on the victorious team.

I sat down to write this column because of this frustration. My initial feeling was simple—this is unfair, and I wanted to whine about it. Why is it that my reward for passionate fandom is, almost invariably, banal disappointment sprinkled with spectacular failure, when a better strategy seems to be to not care and let championships fall on your lap?

However, two specific experiences from the last year come immediately to mind, and they give me some perspective. My beloved Philadelphia Phillies put together the greatest regular season in franchise history. Watching them play baseball in a dominating fashion, night in and night out was a remarkable experience, bringing the Delaware Valley together and helping to pass the often slow days of summer.

The story didn’t end well. Winning 102 games in the regular season turned out to mean very little in a five-game series against a team that got hot at the right time. But I would never trade those six months of exhilarating baseball for a quick victory in the World Series. What meaning does that championship have without 81 home games, three million people packing Citizens Bank Park throughout the dog days of summer, standing behind home plate and cheering for victory?

I’m also a proud member of the marching band. And as such, I’ve become a part of a saga unlike any other in college sports—being a fan of the Columbia Lions. We have been waiting patiently (sometimes impatiently) for nearly 50 years to taste ultimate victory. We suffered through a losing streak in the 1980s literally unlike any other in Division I football history. We have watched March Madness together every year, wondering when we would see the Light Blue light up CBS and shock some of the best teams in the nation.

It is that history, among other things, that binds the band together and connects us to every boisterous backer of our boys in blue. The history of our football team ties every player to those that came before, to fans from Inwood and Morningside Heights, to every student who went to Homecoming for the last 50 years. Everyone who packs Levien every weekend, drawn either by free admission, T-shirts, or a deep-seated desire to heckle our Ivy foes, is a part of our tradition. Being a Columbia fan is a unique experience because of our inexplicable journey together.

I have struggled, ever since coming to Columbia, with finding an answer to the question, “Why do you care about sports?” This week, my answer has crystallized. Sports isn’t about the destination, really. Without the journey it takes to get there, the moments of triumph and terror, the sharing of miseries with your fellow fans, victory is but half as sweet. More than anything else, sports brings families, friends, cities, and even nations together. I don’t begrudge Giants fans, even the fair-weather ones, or the success of their team. (That’s not true at all—I absolutely do—but not excessively so.) But one day, perhaps not too far off, the Phillies or Eagles or Flyers or Sixers, or—I hope more than anything else—the Columbia Lions will hoist a championship trophy. It will be the culmination of a journey worth taking, and we will—whether you’ve watched one game or 40—all celebrate together.

Peter Andrews is a Columbia College sophomore majoring in history. He is an associate copy editor for Spectator.
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