The "Columnist" Refuted

Every six months the clock turns over and it’s time for another writer to write a “comical,” “humorous,” “amusing,” “educational” piece on How To Be A Sports Fan Or How To Fake It As A Woman Because Clearly No Woman Is A Fan Of Sports.

Used to be that I’d get furious about this, get all up in a righteous froth about it, bang out a few hundred words on my personal blog, and move on. Now, however? I’m just tired, and a little bit sad.

This isn’t even truly a response to that article, because that article has been written at least a dozen times. You’ve seen it in Cosmo, you’ve heard it from your well-meaning but ill-advised friends, if you (as it seems 90% of the readers of this site are) are a male, you’ve probably benefited from its beliefs at one point or another in your life. Change yourself, fake it, because you need to even if you don’t want to.

I’m tired, because no matter how the situation improves for women in and around the sports community, it feels like there’s just one more thing, just one more thing that constantly proves that we’re not there yet.


If it’s not Dusty Baker spouting off about domestic violence in an uninformed way, it’s the reminder that Andrew Friedman knowingly employed a rapist for a considerable time, with little to no explanation other than he was valuable in a baseball way. It’s that femininity is demonized, and men die for fear of being called weak little girls. It’s walking into a press box and being told that you don’t belong there. It’s the constant stream of tweets, of being afraid to say what you actually mean. It’s this quote right here:

“Women have been pretending to like sports to snare husbands and fuck buddies for decades. This isn't anything new.”


This is how we’re erased. Painted into a corner, forgotten about, placated with “Groupie” shoes, “talent scout” tee-shirts, told our feelings, our thoughts, our opinions don’t matter. Our words, our bodies are only good enough to look at or laugh at, and certainly not respect. It’s funny to give a woman a “talent scout” tee-shirt, because heaven forbid she actually be scouting talent.


It’s funny how the assumption is that since only one thing is wanted from us, we only want one thing. It’s sad how that assumption can be taken as fact by the ones who it is assumed of.


Fake it ‘til you make it, girls, but also learn the blood type of the fourth coach of the team that was the spiritual predecessor to the current team that moved to your city from a different city ten years ago. Make yourself into their dream sporty girl, but also never forget that you’re not as good as they are at this thing.

Forget the “Girl’s Guide To Faking To Like Sports Because The Only Thing ‘Girls’ Want Or Need Is Men’s Approval And Desire.1” I need the “Women’s Guide To Surviving In This Awful World, Because I Dared To Love Something That Won’t Love Me Back.” Actually, even better: the “People’s Guide To Enjoying Something They Like In Various Situations, None Of Which Need To Be Connected To Anything More Than Enjoyment Of That Thing.”

Here’s my advice to any human on this earth wanting to learn more about sports, for any reason they see fit: Do it! Do it because you want to, not because you think or have been told you must. Go read the writing that’s out there, not because it’s going to get you a free drink. Ask questions, because you want to learn. Go to games because the team is hot. Go to games because the team is good. Go to games because it’s a good way to while away a summer’s afternoon.

Or don’t, because that’s completely valid, too. Just don’t do something you don’t want to because some misguided soul said you had to.

1) Please note the infantilizing “girls” in a piece aimed at women old enough to legally drink. Go get free beers at a bar, but don’t remind men that you’re a self-actualized adult capable of making your own decisions!