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Sports

Professional sports turns back on fans

Holding Court 

Richard Whitrock

Sometimes, winning just isn't enough.

When it comes to the Rockets, I'm a fan. I've bought countless T-shirts over the years, done near permanent damage to my lungs, broken more than one item in frustration and even sacrificed no small amount of dignity in my career as a Rockets fan. From 1992 to 1998, I could count on my fingers the number of televised Rockets games I missed. That's why it seems like such a surprise that I could count on one hand the number of Rockets games I've watched this season.

The casual observer might look at these facts and, in a moment's thought requiring no more contemplation than a "roses are red" poem, label me with the scarlet "F" on my chest that stands for perhaps the worst insult in sports fandom: fair-weather fan. No true fan would sell out a team like that, would watch a team in its prime and shed them like last week's dirty socks in the rebuilding phase.

Fair enough, everyone is entitled to his own opinion. But is it really so cut and dry, s o superficial?

To answer the question, it's important to know what drives a true fan. Is it the color scheme? The logo? The wittiness of a team name? Are fans drawn to the inherent genius of a name like "Bears" as a moth to flame, or a mosquito to a bright humming light?

Is it simply a matter of location that determines the existence of fan-hood? Would the Dallas Mayberries have as successful a fan base as the Dallas Mavericks? The Orange fans would seem to argue so, but do those who worship in the church of fandom do so simply because of convenience or preference of location? Had fan-X been in Chicago instead of Detroit, would he still be a Pistons fan, or is loyalty a fill-in-the-blank exercise? No, there must be something more. At least, there was for me.

My status as a Rockets fan began because they were my hometown team, so they were to be rooted for. As I continued to watch them, to witness the ups and downs of the seasons, it became different. Suddenly, there were no numbers on jerseys; there were names. The players had personality; they became people instead of pieces. The team had leaders, role players and characteristics that reflected these roles. In essence, there was a team personality. I became a fan of who the Rockets were, their style of play and their team philosophy, instead of just a mindless nut screaming for whatever team happens to be home. It was the players, coaches and people in the Rockets organization that made being a Rockets fan special and allowed me to connect to my team on a level deeper than sharing a geographic locale.

Truth is, in today's professional sports climate, it is much more difficult to be a fan of a team in any sport than at any other time in sports history. Rosters change so quickly and personnel movement is so fluid that such connections are stunted before they can even form. The business of basketball has taken over so completely that it seems the NBA has forgotten the players are people first and basketball talent second. Who can call themselves a fan of a team when only half the players on it were there at the start of the season, and it isn't even the All-Star break yet?

Jim Jackson had been with the Rockets for less time than some people were in diapers, but he had an impact nonetheless. Especially in such a fan-unfriendly environment, where fans search desperately for a player to anchor to, who will be a part of their team for more than a quick lunch break? For Jackson it was easy -- he was one of the few bright spots on a team that was otherwise a sinking ship. Between his talent, hard work, experience and leadership ability, surely it would be safe to assume he wouldn't be treated like a commodity.

Tell that to Les Alexander.

When the trade that sent Jim Jackson and Bostjan Nachbar to the New Orleans Hornets went through, it was only the latest in a long line of disappointment for this Rockets fan. For Jackson, who must have thought he had finally found a home -- a city where he could hang his hat and become an integral, tenured member of a team -- it was probably much more of a surprise. I don't blame him one bit for refusing to report to the Hornets -- didn't slavery end in the 1800s? Apparently, professional sports didn't get that memo.

As I have said many, many times before, the success of a team is not dependent on how many superstars are on hand. Chemistry counts for much more than talent. The Rockets have been undeniably a much better team without Jim Jackson, and whether that was Jackson's fault or not is impossible to say. Are they a better team? Did they just get hot at the right time? I wouldn't know; I haven't been watching. I'm sick of getting attached to teams that get dismantled every six months. Who cares if they are winning? Sometimes, winning just isn't enough.
 

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