Confessions of a used to be-sort-of-sometimes sports fan.

We joined my parents' tailgate party for a couple of hours in East Lansing this weekend, and made the drive home starting about 20 minutes or so after the football game started.  Now, I know that people who call themselves "real" or "true" sports fans will say "good riddance" to this, or "who cares?" (and more power to you, that's fine)--but I'm still sad to say that I'm not sure I'll take the kids back again.  Now, because I know people will say "Well, that's just sour grapes from a loser," I say that Brian, an MSU alum, feels the same way--he'd never seen it quite like he saw it on Saturday.  My wise friend Jen suspects that it's our new-ish status as parents of little ones that's changed our feelings about the hoopla surrounding sports, and I'd bet she's right.  It could also be that I'm 35 years old now, approaching 40 in the not-too-distant future, and I just might be getting too old for all this.  It's the "hey kids, get off my lawn" view of sports fandom.

I think it's important in this public space to say that nothing whatsoever happened to me in my parents' big tailgate to lead me to reach this sort-of-conclusion.  That space was all well and good, and a very good time was had by all.  It was the getting there and then the game's aftermath that has caused me to rethink my occasional participation in sports parties and such.  If I could be tele-ported to my Dad's tailgate, I'd be there with bells on.

What did I see and hear in three short hours?  (And, to re-emphasize: this was all before the game had even started.  There was no score yet, no winner or loser.)  A sampling ...

• People by the dozens too intoxicated to walk normally--far more than I can count.
• Racial/ethnic slurs hurled at strangers.
• Really foul language, at very high volume, directed towards strangers just walking by.
• A group of 50-ish people surrounding and rhythmically chanting an expletive at two people standing in a port-a-potty line.
• Free use of the usual language to demean women, usually from far away, and usually at really high volume.

Some of these examples were from one fan to another "across party lines," as it were.  MSU to UM, or vice versa.  Several of them weren't.  City/campus geography differences between my old hometown and my new one are probably the reason behind why tailgating is allowed everywhere on campus at MSU rather than in contained pockets at UM, but the feeling we got on Saturday was that there's no escape from the culture of booze.  It'd be like having tailgate tents, beer pong, and open alcohol in Michigan's Law Quad--there'd be nowhere "safe" to go.  Age restrictions on drinking openly in public on campus were clearly not being enforced, and the youngest drinkers (for the most part) were the most aggressive.

After the game, during which the stronger team won and the weaker team lost, the winning fans have taken it upon themselves to think of the worst insults they can for the losing team's players and supporters ... and it seems they've settled on "little sister," "ugly sister," and, to even more approval and hilarity, "fat sister."  That's right--when you've really got to insult someone, call them a woman, and then bring appearance into it.  (Oh, and there have been several instances of physical and/or sexual violence thrown in the imagery mix, too.  I'm looking at you, Facebook feed.)  Sports fandom is really starting to feel like it brings out the worst in people, rather than the best.

And, since this blog is about parenting (for the most part), I must ask this question: would I want either of my kids to be exposed to this again?  Not really.  It just makes me feel a bit nostalgic and wistful.  I grew up attending college sports.  It was a part of my whole childhood and adolescence.  I wore an MSU baseball cap on campus during my freshman year at Michigan to express my solidarity with my hometown.  My kids have sweatshirts from both teams in their closets.  We don't have TV access to watch broadcast games and wouldn't want to anyway, and so these real-life experiences were my attempt to give my kids access to something that I loved as a kid.  It's sad, though, if the only "safe" place anymore is our alcohol-free Michigan marching band practice on Fridays.  That just doesn't feel quite the same.  And being dropped by helicopter into my Dad's tailgate isn't really an option, either.

Go Green?  Go Blue?  Meh.