Joe Elder
Published: February 18 2004
I am a sports fan. I guess that’s a good thing since I am the sports editor. I have been thinking about the word fan lately though.
Fan is short for fanatic. It’s cool that the sports world takes people away. They get wrapped up in a particular team or player. Honestly, I would say it’s a good escape for some people. When you watch your favorite player sink that game winning shot, or he hits that home run, or scores that touchdown, or even bump that other dude out of the way on lap 499 – when these things happen, all seems right with the world.
There are some fans out there though that really do give a new meaning to that word-fanatic. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it; I actually think it’s kind of amusing.
We’ve all known the guy that takes the phone off the hook on Sundays, slips into his favorite player’s jersey, consumes about 20 pounds of hot wings, and gets locked away from the rest of the world until Monday morning because it is football season. Football season is my favorite season too. Who really worries about those other four seasons like winter and summer and stuff. Everyone should have a football season countdown calendar in his or her house.
Also, we’ve all known the guy that puts on his favorite player’s jersey, pulls out all of the autographed basketballs, hangs up the posters, wears the headband and matching wrist bands, and pulls his socks to his knees when his favorite basketball team storms the court.
No matter how die-hard the fans though, there is one sport that has the most die-hard fans of them all. That would be NASCAR. Fanatic does not even begin to describe how out there some of their fans are.
First off, these fans take up two days. You know they can’t miss the qualifying round. That’s too important. That would be like watching pitchers warm-up if you ask me. Boring.
Then comes race day and the shrine begins to be assembled. First, they pull out all 40 or 50 of their die-cast racecars. Then they hang the flags, put on a cap, shirt, and pants of their favorite driver. No race shrine would be complete without the checkered flag hanging somewhere as well. Then there’s the NASCAR plush toys, animal toys, licensed glass and chip bowl, the 15 fantasy leagues that must be checked every hour on the hour, and a piece of rubber they stole off the track that is now encased in an alarmed glass enclosure.
These fans also have a term for their spouses; they call them “NASCAR widows.”
Whether NASCAR is a sport or not remains to be seen, but I have to give them credit for having some of the biggest money-spending fans out there.