Of Sport and Sportsmanship: An Hour at the Soccer Tournament

Kris Shakes, a student in one of my classes, tends goal for the Penn State’s men’s soccer team, which is why I decided, if Sunday’s weather was fine, to attend the Big Ten tournament quarterfinal match against Michigan State. 

Well, the weather was finer than fine. As soon as I sat down and felt the warm sun on my face, I was glad I came. 

Then I was glad I came on time because the Nittany Lions scored in the first 30 seconds. About 15 minutes later, they scored again. 

And that turned out to be the final score: Penn State 2, Michigan State 0.

A good thing, too, since I bailed at halftime, which happened to be when the sun set on this first day of standard time. A true soccer fan, I’m sure, would have found plenty to appreciate about that scoreless second half. To a casual fan like me, though, no goals meant that nothing much happened; therefore I missed nothing by leaving early. 

That said, I was happy to learn from the Collegian the next day that Kris Shakes “has kept his net clean for over 230 consecutive minutes of action,” and that this was his fifth shutout of the season. Coach Jeff Cook called his play “spectacular.” 

Of course, I taught Kris everything he knows. About journalism ethics. Maybe.

The other reason I was glad I arrived on time is that I caught the pregame rituals, both the ones on the field and the ones in the bleachers. 

On the field, I was surprised and pleased to hear the players take turns delivering a message about social justice. (I learned subsequently that the team recorded the message last winter and plays it before every game.)

In the bleachers, I was surprised and displeased to see the occupants of the small but densely packed student section turn their backs during the introduction of the Michigan State players and yell “sucks” after each player’s name was announced. 

Now I don’t get out much – who does, these days? — so maybe I’ve not kept up with the evolving norms of fan behavior, but really? 

Wasn’t there an era when the home crowd welcomed our worthy opponents with a polite round of applause? Or if not applause, respectful silence? Or if not respectful silence, some good-natured mock-booing? 

Perhaps not. One must beware, in these fractious times, of pining for a golden age of civility that never was.

Still, I did not like this ostentatious display of disrespect. I was reminded of how peeved I was when Rep. Joe Wilson, a South Carolina Republican, shouted, “You lie!” at President Obama on the floor of Congress. That moment, when I went from condoning breaches of decorum to condemning them, was probably when I officially became middle-aged. Sigh.

I tell students in my column-writing class to steer clear of scolding because nobody likes a scold. 

So let me quickly say that I was, in the main, impressed and entertained by the behavior of the two dozen or so denizens of the student section. 

I was impressed by the sheer breadth of their repertoire of ditties and chants, some of which were choreographed and most of which were accompanied by the beating of drums and the stomping of feet. 

In addition to not-exactly-tuneful a cappella renditions of all the Blue Band standards, there were Penn State-inflected variations on “Yellow Submarine” and “When the Saints Go Marching In,” among others. I wondered if, like gigging musicians, the leaders of this merry band had a set list.  

Michigan State corner kicks were particularly exciting. The moment the ball crossed Penn State’s end line, the maniacs stampeded to the far end of the bleachers, whence they made a holy racket aimed at rattling the Spartans player into an errant kick. 

Censure their oafish antics if you must, Professor Frank, but the fact is, this crew was having a marvelous time. At no one’s expense, probably. The point of all the razzing, I surmise, is not to have an impact on the game, but to pretend to have an impact on the game. It’s all play, in other words. (To the extent that athletes are affected by the behavior of spectators at all, I suspect they’re more energized by the cheers of a supportive crowd than unnerved by the taunts of a hostile one.) 

Above all, I was bemused by the students’ ardor, by how much they relished synchronizing their voices and movements, how much they loved making a mighty noise together. 

On the one hand, where’s the harm? But I am always discomfited by the behavior of people in crowds, knowing how easily crowd can become mob, its raucousness turn to riotousness, its silliness turn sinister.

I guess I’m just not a crowd guy. I can, however, quickly become emotionally vested in a team, which is why I may have to catch some of today’s semifinal between Penn State and Michigan. 

Weather permitting, of course.