Rilla Banks:
“I imagine I scared both men and women both with the intensity of my workouts, but more likely with the determined look of self-loathing on my face. But today, a year and a bit later, I can proudly say that I’ve never been happier with my body or my life. The reason for this? Well, first of all, a shitload of therapy. Everyone should go to therapy! But secondly, and something that absolutely cannot be taken out of the equation, is boxing.
I had always been interested in the idea of punching something really hard. I googled “boxing club my city” and walked into the first club that came up in the search. It was just dumb luck that I turned up at the perfect one for me. I spent a lot of time working out my issues on the heavy bag. I went from being pumped about how hard the workouts were (great, I’m burning a ton of calories!) to being proud of my strength and what my body could do. Because of this sport, I look at my body in a very different way. I am fit, but you couldn’t necessarily tell just by looking at me. But I can take a punch to the liver, drop to the floor, and climb back into the ring ten minutes later. On a good day I can dole out a seriously strong right cross. The last thing I think about when I’m in the ring is how I look. I know I look like an awkward, snotty, greasy, drooling mess. And I’ve never been more content.”
*
Claire Bea:
“In 2009, the Washington Capitals signed a defenseman named Joe Corvo. Corvo is not an interesting player, an important player, or a particularly good player. He’s bounced from team to team over the past decade, with limited on-ice success. A quick Google search for Joe Corvo turns up dozens of articles by sports writers and bloggers trying to justify a recent signing of Joe Corvo to their team.
Oh, and it turns up his felony conviction from 2002 for assaulting a woman who responded negatively to his advances.
Joe Corvo was not the first Washington Capital with an ugly past, but he was my first direct exposure to problematic fandom. I was raised a Capitals fan, but I was too young during the first Hunter era to know about his ugly, illegal check that knocked Pierre Turgeon out of Game 7 of the playoffs, earning Hunter a then-longest ever suspension of 21 games. When the Capitals signed Corvo, it was the first time I had to make a decision about what it means to be a fan when the team you love becomes less fully loveable.
Being a fan of a sport, or of a particular team, means a lot of things. It means sharing an identity with other fans. It means bonding with friends and family over disappointments and thrilling successes. It means caring about something, sometimes well beyond the point of reason. I know one young boy for whom sports means having a way to connect emotionally with the outside world, even when he doesn’t quite understand the rules of social interaction. Sports are one of our earliest and most enduring entertainments, and to call sports entertainment is not to trivialize them. How we choose to entertain ourselves is a hugely important choice—it defines the boundaries of “work” and “play,” it shapes our opinions, values, and culture.
When your entertainment of choice is sports, you can expect to encounter beliefs about “true fandom.” Being a true fan means watching all your team’s games through to the end. Being a true fan means buying apparel and accessories emblazoned with your team logo (but never, ever in pink). Being a true fan means rejecting anyone you perceive as a “bandwagoner,” because being a true fan above all means always supporting your team. And as is the case with many male-dominated spaces, being a woman and a fan means that your authenticity is automatically suspect (but don’t worry, your team knows you have disposable income, and they are happy to find lady ways for you to share this income).
I’m a Capitals fan, though it’s easier now that the worst thing I have to confront is that our star might be a little dirty. I watch pro football during the season, even though the local team’s name is a disgrace. Finding a balance between watching a sport that brings joy and recognizing that fandom may perpetuate a culture that allows, even causes, significant violence and harm, is a deeply personal decision. The balance I try to achieve relies on knowing that I’m using the two primary tools I have as a fan—my money and my words—in ways that bring me peace. I will not spend money on Washington football gear or on advertisers who cater to the worst aspects of sports machismo. I will not sit quietly through a discussion trashing women athletes and women in sports media. I will not stay quiet about rape culture in professional athletics because it ruins someone else’s fun.
But I also understand that everyone needs to find your own balance, and yours may not be mine. I hope we can talk about that when the puck drops.”
*
Jessie Guy-Ryan:
“The only thing I was good at in school was doing schoolwork. This alone does not make one qualified to attend a top-tier college, so for my junior year in high school I very determinedly set out to Play A Sport.
I had had pretty significant jaw surgery the year before and was under strict doctor’s orders to avoid getting smacked in the face, which eliminated basketball from the roster of potential athletic activities. This was unfortunate because as someone who has been their full adult height since age 11, I had only ever been invited to play basketball.
Since following in the steps of Jim Carrol was not an option, I looked for opportunities that didn’t involve things being thrown near my face. I knew some girls on the soccer team, plus I had pretty fond memories of being the goalie at age 6 and never having to do anything but sit in the dirt and receive my World’s Best Participator trophy at the end of the season; so I very proudly told my soccer-playing, non-cigarette-smoking friends that I would gladly help them kick their ball down the field.
The air of very, very mild enthusiasm and not inconsiderable discomfort was palpable. It was very exciting. But before I could buy my very first set of cleats, Aaron—boyfriend of my future teammate Carla and soccer player in his own right—offered to give me a ride home after school one day.
I don’t remember the specifics of the conversation, but I definitely got out of that car convinced that soccer was an extremely dangerous sport and I would be lucky to have even one working limb and five teeth by the end of the season. As soon as I explained that I was hoping to find a sport that would not frequently put my $16,000 metal jaws in jeopardy, he latched right on. “You’d be surprised how much contact there is in soccer! I’ve seen people get really hurt.” Especially 110 lb. semi-reformed goth chicks that did not—and still do not, please explain this to me—understand why the clock runs forward in soccer.
I don’t think we had a track team. Volleyball had too many elbows near too many faces. But we did have a brand-new swimming team, and I could swim. I took lessons and everything. I was lifeguard-certified at Girl Scout Camp one time! Water can’t shatter your face bones. And there were no tryouts.
The thing I remember most about the maybe three swim team practices I attended is the amount of pool water I drank as I flailed around the pool trying to even pretend to keep up with the rest of my team as our very skilled and very, very serious coach put us through Olympic drills. We were like catfish in an overpopulated river in a theme park, you know, with those little fish-food dispensers on the bridges. Jostling and struggling towards our end goal—not food pellets, just the promise that maybe we wouldn’t have to swim another lap after this.
I have no idea why, but I ended up getting picked to swim the 500m freestyle at our very first meet. I probably insisted on it. I’m sure I did. Why should I just ride the bench so I can say I was on swim team for two years?
So I get up on the little diving board thing, and this is where I reveal to you a detail I have intentionally withheld.
I do not know how to dive.
My mom describes my attempts at diving as, “a dead frog falling into the water.” And my swim coach noticed this, and she tried very hard to teach me how to dive into the water. I think I managed to dive successfully once, right before she agreed to let me swim the 500m freestyle.
Anyway, they blew the whistle. I tried to do the effortless falling head-forward that I was told would result in diving. My thighs hit the water first with a louder slap than you are probably imagining. At the time, I thought maybe it wasn’t that bad and soldiered on and quickly became dead last, then….worse than dead last.
I think I was maybe a third of the way through when I officially became the only person still swimming. And they didn’t just let me stop. They made me finish that whole 500m, mostly entirely by myself, completely violating every regulation about form and not touching the bottom of the pool with your feet and not crying.
I did not include any athletics on my list of extracurricular activities for my college applications. I also did not get into Harvard or Georgetown. But, weirdly, I didn’t get mercilessly mocked every day for the rest of high school, either. So it basically worked out.”
[Image via Wikimedia Commons]
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Tags: boxing, high school, humiliations, reader-generated content, sports day, swimming, your call is very important to us
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Claire, thanks for articulating a lot of the struggle I have with feeling strong feelings about teams that employ and celebrate reprehensible individuals. I have a really hard time justifying being happy about a Steelers win (yeah, I know, Fuck the Steelers) because the team is led by a (n alleged) rapist. But I’m also watching the game and being happy. I’m… conflicted.
At least there’s baseball, right. Oh, wait.
(I own a pink Cubs hat. My mom bought it for me. I’m sorry.)
Thanks! I think we make similar negotiations every day when we decide what to buy, what media to consume, who to support directly/indirectly, but in the realm of sports, these negotiations are all tied up in this idea of authenticity as a fan, and there’s so much pressure to just ignore everything uncomfortable about your team. It sucks. I don’t think there’s a way to be decent and NOT be conflicted–but like I said, I’m still a fan.
Pink stuff! I could discuss pink sports stuff for days. I dislike pink things because 1) wear your team’s colors! If Virginia Tech students can learn to love maroon and orange together for the sake of their team, you can wear your team’s colors. Visible support is a huge part of a great sports experience for me. When I turn up to a game and everyone is in streetwear or non-standard gear, it just sucks the energy of of the room. 2) Pink stuff is such a condescending marketing move (similar to that Club Scarlet bullshit I linked above).
BUT: The hatred for pink sports stuff is also classic male-space bullying and it’s gross. So I can’t condemn the people who choose that, because I do not want to be on the side of gross bullies.
Yes, let’s talk about WHAT THE HONEST BEJEEZUS IS THAT CLUB SCARLET THING? Tiger Beat with Hockey Guys?
And, yes, I have Baseball Boyfriends, so more conflict and internalized self-mockery.
I think the Roethlisberger thing is so interesting, because he’s become like the NFL’s Flagship Rapist. Like, I know when the Steelers play the Browns, people in the audience will be chanting “no means no,” “she said no,” and sometimes just “rapist” over and over and honestly? Most of the people chanting are guys who do not actually give a damn about making sure that rapists are held accountable and that support services are provided for survivors. I’ve been sexually harassed by plenty of fans who then later bust out there “sensitive side” to talk about how “fucked up” it is that Roethlisberger is a rapist. They don’t actually care about dismantling rape culture, they just want to shame Roethlisberger and try to freak him out/get in his head. And it’s not like I don’t want to see Roethlisberger shamed publicly, I’m totally down for that. (The Roethlisberger thing is extra personal for me because I was a student at Miami U, his alma mater, and his looming presence made that college a profoundly uncomfortable place to be.)
Anyway, it’s really weird to see a lot of male NFL fans co-opting sexual assault and making it into a heckling ritual, while doing absolutely nothing to try to build a culture of accountability in the NFL and other pro sports.
Huh. I’ve kind of been feeling like punching things would be a good form of exercise for me, and I just googled “boxing clubs [my city]” and found one where not only is it getting amazing reviews, but the owner has a blog post up about how the relationship between food & fat is far more complicated than just calories in v. calories burned, which makes me think that his number-one goal might not be making me skinny? Which is good, because good luck with that, dude.
I <3 <3 <3 boxing, and I don’t even actually box, just do the drills. I found it was a little difficult to be a lady beginner, and even now I’m often the only woman in the class, but the guys are never (well, hardly ever) gross at me, and punching shit is the best.
I keep thinking I want to take up boxing, or probably kickboxing, and then I remember I have one all-consuming and expensive sport hobby already and barely have time to eat as it is. I do like punching shit though.
I was going to rave about kickboxing and how much fun it is, but then I realised our instructor treated lessons as goofing off and did things like taught us to knife-fight with rubber knives and run tournaments for the exercise of the week half the time instead of real drills. But what was probably actual kickboxing was great, and works your whole body! There’s a surprising amount of endurance involved. You will get killer calves. Plus, that guy put a lot of effort into making teenage girls comfortable with physically attacking each other without wailing “sorry! Are you ok? Sorry!” every two seconds, which was valuable.
Kickboxing is super fun. I do it at a MMA gym. My only complaint is that some of the music they play is misogynistic rap. 🙁 Boo. Though some of the music is good and gets me pumped. Other times I get annoyed when I’m beating the crap out of a bag to a song that is saying “Shake that ass, girl.” It’s even more annoying because sometimes a majority of our class is women!
I have been looking for a boxing club in my town, but their websites are all terrible. Most exclusively market to men, with promotional texts talking about “alphamales” and with pictures of heavyweight men in concrete basements with chains hanging from the ceiling (wtf?). Entering “boxing women mycity” brought me to a site with a pink background and a lady in a pink minishorts and gloves promising that boxing is great to burn calories. (again, wtf?) I just wanna get buff and punch people real hard!
I was on the Mission Viejo High School swim team. My teammates were current and future Olympic gold medalists. I know all about being the slowest person in the pool. But it worked out! I got into the University of California and never had to swim competitively again. I was free to be an Ancient Historian but still hang out with the hot water polo player who later became my husband. So I think on the whole,my participation worked out. I guess my advice would be, if you aren’t good at sports find the one you’re least bad at. And make friends with the water polo team.
Claire, thank you for putting into words what I feel almost constantly as a soccer fan lately. On the one hand: I love my (adopted, not at all local) team, and they’re capable of bringing me so much joy even though they kind of suck. On the other… everything even tangentially related to Luis Suarez? But, like, I’m still going to wake up at 7:45am this Saturday for the first game of the season. Oh, sports fandom.
Oh man, I definitely had a bit about Suarez particularly in the first draft–Mr. Robotosaur is an Arsenal fan and he really, really did not want to have to cope with that mess.
if he does go, hopefully Arsenal’s PR department has a little more… finesse than Liverpool’s.
(My cousin’s boyfriend is a huge Arsenal fan, and seems happy to take Suarez – I mean, no doubt he’ll be great for them! so many goals! woo! but what a walking disaster. I’ll be happy to be rid of him, whatever happens.)
It’s not just the team, sadly. Sometimes it’s the other fans, too. The same ones that share (and express) your pain when you get knocked out of the CL season after season, or similarly can’t shut up when things are going well…
…these are the same people who make you want to leave a facebook community you’ve been part of for YEARS and crawl in a hole because they say the most horrific things when someone suggests that maybe we stop using the word “rape” as a positive way to describe athletic performance.
Really, guys, no one is trying to step on your rights. And just because you have female friends and there are women who support OUR team and in OUR group doesn’t mean it’s okay to repeatedly throw that word around. Or ban people who disagree with its use. Really.
oh, tell me about it – it can be a real toxic environment.
I think the Roethlisberger thing is so interesting, because he's become like the NFL's Flagship Rapist. Like, I know when the Steelers play the Browns, people in the audience will be chanting "no means no," "she said no," and sometimes just "rapist" over and over and honestly? Most of the people chanting are guys who do not actually give a damn about making sure that rapists are held accountable and that support services are provided for survivors. I've been sexually harassed by plenty of fans who then later bust out there "sensitive side" to talk about how "fucked up" it is that Roethlisberger is a rapist. They don't actually care about dismantling rape culture, they just want to shame Roethlisberger and try to freak him out/get in his head. And it's not like I don't want to see Roethlisberger shamed publicly, I'm totally down for that. (The Roethlisberger thing is extra personal for me because I was a student at Miami U, his alma mater, and his looming presence made that college a profoundly uncomfortable place to be.)
Anyway, it's really weird to see a lot of male NFL fans co-opting sexual assault and making it into a heckling ritual, while doing absolutely nothing to try to build a culture of accountability in the NFL and other pro sports.