Why fans?

Over the last week, I've been thinking. Okay, let me qualify that: I've been over-thinking. With all the drama happening around our house last week (another post, another time. It all needs to be resolved before I blog about it), I needed time out. My brain predictably went to one of its happy places - this time, F1 (shock, horror). Specifically, why we are fans.

I'm not talking about why we watch (although that is another post for another time, because it's more complicated than just supporting a driver), I'm talking about why we pick one driver or team from an entire field. We then make idiots of ourselves, often in public places. We choose one element of a set and devote time and effort convincing everyone else of the validity of our choice. Even if we didn't pick the one who wins the most, we still justify our choice. Quite a few people choose team or driver based on national loyalty, which is easy if you're from a country that spawns good drivers (a number have veritable phone directories of drivers to choose from. For example, being Brazilian offers a four-way choice of loyalty this year). Some (*cough* SchuVader fans *cough) will blindly support one driver, regardless of their behaviour or ethics, simply because they're the most likely to win. The rest of us choose an underdog.

We go to great lengths to meet these people who, frankly, we have nothing in common with. Sometimes, we'll stand out in the rain all night, or crowd into a room for a crazy autograph session with very little chance of making it to the front (as is witnessed by the shot to the left)! Occasionally, we'll make a giant banner and hang it over the front of an almost-empty grandstand during a practice session.



It would be hypocritical of me not to point out, at this juncture, that I would jump around on my tippie-toes at the prospect of spending time chatting to "my boys". I'd love to take them for a drink! I suspect I vary from a large number of girl fans in that I wouldn't (or, I hope I wouldn't) make an arse of myself trying to convince one of them to...how can I put this...contribute to the next generation of racers with me. I think that goes for most male fans too, since I don't know a male F1 fan who admires them for more than racing skill or "sportsmanship" (okay, just the one, but his boyfriend also thinks racing drivers are hot, so maybe that explains it).

In a way, we have "lecturer crushes" on them. Perhaps I should explain what a "lecturer crush" is. When one first gets to uni, all the post-grads and lecturers seem so very knowledgeable about subjects that we find fascinating. We then get overwhelming urges to buy them a drink (or, at least, at Rhodes we do, given that we run into them in bars fairly frequently) and talk shop with them. After all, if you're nerdily interested in something, why not talk to an expert about it? Seriously, imagine chatting about dorky F1 technical stuff with a driver...to be able to ask questions and find out how it really feels to drive the car without the media-friendly bulls**t. For sure, we'd like that.

Mostly, though, I think we're fans for the vicarious thrill. When we've spent a fair few races jumping up and down out of our seats, yelling for our man to overtake/drive faster/hold [insert name here] behind him, the podium is an ecstatic moment! Alternatively, as Lotus supporters will confirm, seeing them do marginally better than all the other back-of-the-grid teams is positively electrifying (mostly, though, we just want to see Richard Branson dressed as a flight attendant in drag). It becomes a metaphor for stuff we're missing in life, and so seeing our team pull it together and get a good result makes us feel like problems are less impossible.

Alternatively, we watch for the same reason as soccer fans: the occasional glimpse of them topless...[I would post topless pics of them but 1) I think it would be tacky and 2) the only one I can find with decent resolution is of SchuVader himself; I decided not to scar your minds with that one]