The connection between sports fans and their team is like an umbilical cord, and the obsession over it is almost similar to a hand-me-down family heirloom. The slightly unhealthy fixation with sport — the undying love for a club or a player — can be dictated by the choice of our parents or peers, or occasionally, we rebel and support the exact opposite.
In Kolkata, it is not unusual to find a father and son on the opposite sides of the Mohun Bagan-East Bengal divide, quietly seething over the morning tea, already in the throes of pre-Derby tension.
But once we are a fan — unlike other things in life — there’s no backing out. Our social life bends around the sporting schedule. Their wins lift us, their losses gut us; our mood mimicking the fortunes of our team.
This bond grows because of the players, the athletes who throw their bodies — and sometimes their sanity — for a moment of glory that we all get to share. We are otherwise selfish, self-preserving creatures. Our routines revolve around our own needs, until suddenly, we are on the edge of our seats, living through their triumphs and heartbreaks, finally part of a larger collective.
The bond deepens over time as the same knights — give or take the odd treachery (ask the Barcelona fans about Luis Figo) — fight for our colours.
But does it stay as pure, as instinctive, if our heroes get swapped out every couple of years like new actors in a soap opera? Can we still feel that same connection?
Are we cheering for a jersey, convincing ourselves of our loyalty while the faces underneath keep changing?
Indian Premier League (IPL) fans must be wondering yet again as another ‘Mega Auction’ looms, ready to throw loyalties into disarray. Our allegiance to a core group, our favourite players, is set to be tested with the creeping anxiety of them being traded to a different team. Nowhere else in the sporting world do players get shuffled around like a deck of cards so frequently.
Ostensibly all about maintaining “sporting balance”, it feels more like a ploy for a few extra days of TV ratings, a bit of manufactured drama that is no longer required after 17 seasons of this sporting spectacle. Matured and profit-making, the IPL and its teams — including the two four-year-old franchises — should hardly be needing the crutches of a regular overhaul to preserve its competitiveness.
But here we are, still debating the retention strategies, preparing ourselves to cast aside the heroes we once held dear but no longer deemed suitable by the complex world of algorithms and permutations.
In IPL, do we support a team or hitch our allegiance to a player? It is a hard choice to make.
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