Being a sports fan is both a blessing and a curse; a blessing, because few pastimes can replicate the insane highs achieved by watching the hard work of others.
Where else can you achieve such accomplishment, such pride, such happiness, without actually having to do anything? Where else do thousands of people band together as one community to share in the glory of a few? If you’re not a fan of a sports team, you’re missing out on a life experience. There is no bigger curse, however, when your team is doing badly: you are powerless to do anything about it. Sure, you can shout and scream and cheer yourself hoarse from the sidelines; send motivating messages to you failing warriors; fill up social media with your couch expertise on team selections and tactics; but in the end, you’re nothing more than a helpless bystander as you watch your team struggle, and all you can do is keep faith – and believe that it’s going to get better.
It’s probably fair to say schools teams create the most passionate partisanship for sports in this country. Your Alma Mater is not just another club. She is your second home from your formative years, sometimes even your first. She defines who you are and what sort of man you grow up to be, and so, her successes and failures are yours, whether you were involved in them or no. Sports is one of the major avenues of measuring these successes and failures, and if you’re a sportsman or sports fan attending a school that takes its sports seriously, you are bound to receive an educational experience that others will never get.
Attending the School by the Sea first created, and then sustained, my passion for watching sports. Not all of us can display athletic brilliance, and I soon discovered my talents didn’t really extend to the sports arena. No matter. This was S. Thomas’ College Mt. Lavinia. Our sportsmen were gladiators, going up against the other giants of school sports, taking part in the most prestigious sporting encounters in the whole country. Always outnumbered, rarely outgunned. I was hooked, a fan of Thora Sports for life. For its excitement, spectator friendly format and history, the rugby season was right at the top of my list of must see events, just below the cricket Big Match.
For the first decade or so of this love affair, it was mostly all wine and roses. Yes we lost matches, including all important Royal-Thomians, but the aura was always there: Thomians were always a force to be reckoned with. A loss generally brought forward the best in the team in the next encounter, and “Thomian Grit” was a mystical power to be feared and respected. In between all this we also won quite a lot of matches. Yes, there were the occasional heartbreaks; Royal-Thomians were lost and the Rugby season of 2009 where ‘almost unbeaten’ was ‘almost good enough’ was a huge disappointment, but when you’re upset about losing just one match for the entire season, you know your team is going in the right direction. All in all I was a proud and happy fan, casually boasting about the prowess and prospects of the team to impressed and jealous folk from the ‘other establishments’.
Then came the season of 2011.
Everything I thought being a fan was about, changed that season. As defeat after defeat piled up, confusion slowly began to give way to horror. As the full time whistle blew, again and again, and each time we were left in stunned silence trying to understand the scoreboard, shoulders dropped, the cheering grew quieter, and everyone was trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Finally it was inevitable: for the first time ever, we were going to be relegated, and there was nothing I, or anyone else in the stands alongside me, could do about it. Fingers started being pointed; rumblings of backroom meetings and drastic changes began to surface: College rugby had hit an all-time low.
As a fan, those are the times that test your resolve, and your belief. You don’t understand what went wrong, because all you see is the final result on the pitch. From all that you see and hear, the team is giving it their best, trying their utmost to preserve the pride and dignity of College. Who then, is to blame? Questions start pouring in from all sides, along with the jokes, and the ridicule. All the mockery has to be borne in silence, for what can you say when the results speak for them self? Matches are still attended, but with less expectation each time. Each change is viewed with hope: maybe this time, things will start to turn things around. And through it all, you have to keep motivating the team; attend every match you can, cheer as loud as you used to, for how will they improve if the people they play for turn their backs?
That freefall took time to arrest, and though they tried their hardest, and gave us a lot to cheer about, the 2012 team was unable to bring us back up to the top. The nightmare was extended by another year. It was clear however, that this time the direction headed was up, and while the ridicule and mockery kept coming in from outside sources, as fans, we were all a little matured by the turn of events. Victories that used to be taken for granted were now that much dearer to us. Defeats hurt, but we were able to take it calmly. The two years had taught the fans some things as well. Also, any fan properly following the team would have known to say nothing, but smile inwardly when a jab about the team was made. Our time was coming.
2013 was that time. A team hardened by the failures of the past, hungry for success, and eager to prove every single critic out there wrong, emerged like a phoenix from the ashes. The B Division was duly laid to waste. TheTry line defended by the Thomians was akin to a nunnery, while that of the opposition was more like a brothel. The fans got to sit back put their feet up and enjoy a spectacle of Thomian dominance, something not seen for far too long. Not content with the competition, they looked up at the A division teams, and that’s when the real fun started. First Trinity, and then St. Joseph’s, were shown their place in this year’s pecking order. By the time the Royal-Thomian came around familiar emotions had begun to resurface: Confidence in the team, belief in our superiority, the feeling of being the favourites to win. The atmosphere at the game expressed this shift in emotions beautifully, by far the best match I have ever been to. The rest of course is now history. The icing had been put on the cake. The Trophy cabinet was no longer empty, promotion had been achieved, and an eight year long wait finally ended. A Full circle had been completed.
Perhaps this marks the beginning of another dominant era. Hopefully. Only time will tell. But as a fan, the last 5 years of following this team have taught me a great deal about the joys and pain of sport. Whatever happens in the future, I will always be a fan of this team, and if cheering is all I can do to help them, I’ll do it until my throat is bloody. That is my curse, and my blessing.
