Abstract
Sports fanship is a multidimensional concept. Fans are fans for a variety of reasons and show their fanship in an assortment of ways. In many studies, sports fanship is based on predetermined categories and closed-ended questions set by researchers. Such categories and questions may include certain types of fans while omitting others. This study assessed the extent to which closed-ended categorizations align with fans’ views of their own fanship. It also captured what it means to be—or not be—a sports fan from the respondent’s perspective. A total of 1,093 adults completed questionnaires using Amazon’s Mechanical Turk. In response to a dichotomous choice question, roughly half self-reported as fans. A majority of self-identified fans described strong emotional and personal ties with sports. Most nonfans found little connection with sports: Sports were boring and inconsistent with how they defined themselves. Open-ended responses from a small proportion of fans and a larger subset of nonfans call into question the validity of a single, dichotomous choice measure of fanship. The results of this study document the importance of explicit conceptualizations and operationalizations of sports fanship.
For over four decades, sociologists, psychologists, economists, cultural scholars, and communication scientists have placed sports fans under their respective microscopes. Despite progress in understanding sports fanship, researchers have expressed a need for clearer conceptualizations of the term sports fan (Gantz, 2011; Hahn & Cummins, 2017).
Many studies have investigated fans who answered “yes” to the question “Do you consider yourself a sports fan?” (e.g., Billings & Ruihley, 2013), while others studied fans who met the cutoff score on closed-ended questions that assessed components of fanship such as sports knowledge, time spent following sports, or level of identification with an athlete or team (e.g., Wenner & Gantz, 1998). Yet we do not have much knowledge about how predefined categories compare to what it means to be a fan from the fan’s perspective and thus the consequences of identifying or grouping fans based on researcher-selected components of fanship. In sports-saturated Western culture, that so many are not fans may be an equally important issue to address. What distinguishes fans from nonfans, and do closed-ended questions adequately capture this difference? This study was designed to help clarify the concept of sports fanship and, in doing so, to distinguish fans from nonfans.
Scholars have used open-ended methods to assess the motivations and experiences of sports fans yet those studies focused on specific groups of fans such as females (Pope, 2013), soccer fans (Onwe, 2016), transgender individuals (Caudwell, 2017), or college students (Dietz-Uhler, Harrick, End, & Jacquemotte, 2000), and usually involved a low number of respondents.
This article reports on a study asking 1,093 respondents in the United States what it means to be a fan or why they are not a fan. This study identifies themes that emerged from these answers and compares these open-ended responses to closed-ended questions frequently used to distinguish fans from nonfans. In doing so, it assesses the validity of widely used sports fanship measures and establishes potential consequences for including (and thus excluding) respondents and participants based on answers to these predefined categories. To provide context, we will begin by examining the ways in which research communities have used, defined, and measured sports fanship.
Conceptualizing Sports Fanship
Wenner and Gantz (1998) noted that fanship is a multidimensional concept consisting of cognitive, affective, and behavioral components. Likewise, Waters, Burke, Jackson, and Buning (2011) pointed to the concept’s multidimensionality: Sports fans are those who are emotionally attached to the team or individuals they support, have a sense of camaraderie with their favorites, follow news about them, and share their experiences on social networks. Such a conceptualization is thought to separate fans from those with no more than a casual or passing interest in a team or player. Yet few researchers offer explicit conceptual definitions and may–unintentionally–include only a certain type of fan based on the fanship dimension they measure. Two illustrations should highlight such omissions. First, without explicitly defining what they felt it meant to be a fan, Clavio and Walsh (2014) examined social media use among college students who had purchased season tickets for the upcoming football and basketball seasons. Implicit in their work is the assumption that those who make such purchases are sports fans. Second, in their comparison of traditional sports fans and fantasy sports fans, Billings and Ruihley (2013) clearly defined fantasy sports fanship, yet they failed to offer an equally detailed explanation for their take on and inclusion criteria for traditional sports fans.
Some have tried to distinguish sports fanship and sport spectatorship. Gantz and Wenner (1995) argued that the terms sports spectator and fan are frequently used interchangeably while these concepts can in fact be mutually exclusive. Underlying their perspective is the assumption that somebody who views sports frequently, but only to connect with family members or friends, is not a true fan. Somewhat along those lines, Wann, Melnick, Russell, and Pease (2001) stated that researchers should distinguish between direct and indirect spectators of sports. Direct refers to attending live sports events which, according to the researchers, is indicative of true fanship, whereas indirect stands for following—spectating—sports through the media.
Social psychologists offer another perspective, placing sports fanship in the context of identification and social identity. The level with which a fan identifies with sports in general, a team, or athlete is perceived as indicative of fanship (Hirt & Clarkson, 2011). A potential caveat for this interpretation is brought up by psychologists, Wann, Waddill, Polk, and Weaver (2011), who argue that defining a fan by means of identification with sport or a specific team ignores the important role of identification with other fans. Indeed, Reysen and Branscombe (2010) demonstrated that fanship (self-identification: I like the bulldogs) and fandom (group identification: I am a bulldog) are two related but independent constructs associated with fanship. People, who do not identify with a team but do identify with other fans, may not qualify as fans according to the definition of team identification but would be considered fans when studied from a fandom perspective.
We believe fanship is textured, a composite of factors and dimensions, none of which by itself is a necessary and sufficient precursor of fanship. Not all fans are the same, making conceptualizations and operationalizations challenging and consequential. As researchers frequently do not explicitly define fanship or overtly describe the type of fan they hope to study, results of sports fan studies may be simultaneously informative and limiting to those who meet the researchers’ inclusionary and cutoff criteria. Fanship based on the respondent’s unstated and not measured view of the concept offers a conceptual enigma—we know nothing about what it means to be a fan or about the dimensions of fanship that matter to those who respond.
Measuring Sports Fanship
Not surprisingly, there is no widely agreed upon measure of fanship. Most researchers rely on closed-ended measures and quantitative methods to assess fanship and link it with other variables. Those in the industry often rely on single item measures such as the following three: “Do you consider yourself a sports fan?” “How big of a sports fan are you of ___ (sport or league)?” and “On a scale from 0 to 10 where 0 means you are not a sports fan at all, 5 means you are an average sports fan, and 10 means you are a super sports fan, where would you place yourself on that scale?” (Broughton, 2017; Entertainment and Sports Programming Network [ESPN], 2009). Those in the industry would then conduct subsample analyses based on the level of sports fan avidity. ESPN has described avid fans as those selecting 8, 9, or 10 on its fanship scale (ESPN, 2009). ESPN also has described those selecting 8 or 9 as “serious fans” and those who chose 10 as “super fans.” ESPN defined nonfans as those who selected 0 on their 0–10 fanship item. As far as we can tell, single item measures such as these leave it up to respondents to determine what being a fan means. It’s quite possible, then, that those saying “yes” to the dichotomous choice option or “8” on the 0–10 option may not view sports fanship in similar ways.
Turnkey used a 5-point scale and considered those who responded 4 or 5, followed the league at least several times a week and had a favorite team in the league to be avid fans (Broughton, 2017). Turnkey’s measure includes consumption behaviors. On the pages of SportsBusiness Journal, Turnkey has routinely demonstrated the impact of avidity on knowledge of league sponsors, perceived product category leadership of those sponsors, and likely purchases of the products those sponsors promote. Consumption behavior alone appeared to suffice for Brown, Billings, and Ruihley (2012) in their assessment of fantasy sports fans. For those scholars, fantasy sports consumers were those who had participated in at least one fantasy league in the preceding year.
Wann and Branscombe’s (1993) Sports Spectator Identification Scale is among the most widely used multi-item measure of sports fanship. As its name suggests, their 7-item scale measures levels of identification with being a fan. Other scholars have operationalized fanship by assessing perceived or actual knowledge of sports, interest in sports, and sports consumption behaviors. Wenner and Gantz (1989) relied on dozens of items that tapped sports interest, perceived knowledge, and sports media consumption: Fans were those who scored above an arbitrarily selected point total, one that was higher for men than for women. Implicit in that decision was the researchers’ view that fans were those who were interested in sports, thought themselves knowledgeable about sports and devoted time to following media coverage of sports. Hahn and Cummins (2017) demonstrated the consequences of categorizing fans based on objective knowledge or subjective interest measures. Those defined as fans based on objective high sports knowledge scores judged athletes who appeared on TV differently than those low in knowledge but high in subjective sports interest. In other words, different fans display different types of behavior. Hahn and Cummins concluded that progress in knowledge about sports fans is hindered by the lack of clarity and agreed upon conceptualization and measurement of sports fans.
Researchers who rely on multiple choice or closed-ended items, even with something as simple as a 0–10 self-assessment of fanship, ultimately make the decision as to who among their study participants is—or isn’t—a fan. This may not always align with participant perceptions of their own fanship. The consequences of these preset categorizations are exemplified by the study of Dietz-Uhler, Harrick, End, and Jacquemotte (2000) who found that self-proclamation of fanship resulted in the inclusion of more women than when fanship categorization was based on measures of fan behavior. Open-ended questions (why participants thought they were fans) included in the study provided insight into this gender difference. Women were more likely to report social reasons for being fans whereas men more often wrote about having participated in sports or followed sports information. The point here is not that participants should have the only or final say in how they are categorized. Instead, it again underlines the importance of taking into consideration the consequences of measures used for the interpretations of the findings and thus furthering knowledge.
Dietz-Uhler and colleagues’ study was important but, for our purposes, limited in two ways: their sample was confined to college students and they didn’t ask those who self-identified as nonfans why that was the case. Both limitations matter. First, while college students represent an age group where fanship intensity is quite high (ESPN, 2009), fanship extends across the span of life. Moreover, fanship for college students may skew toward their university’s teams where the players are classmates or at least personally known by many. As many have acknowledged, we need to study much larger swaths of the population to more fully understand the nuances of sports fanship. Second, we know so little about those uninterested in sports—or about the demarcations between fanship and nonfanship. Sports marketers assume they can do something on the field, at the arena, and during broadcasts to bring nonfans into the fold. Listening to nonfans may help with marketing but, more to the point, will help marketers and scholars understand a large segment of the population that has somehow withstood the barrage of coverage sports receive and the social currency it carries for so many.
The current study was designed to investigate what scholars might gain by asking people what makes them a sports fan or not a fan. The overarching goal of this effort was to better understand how individuals self-define their sports fanship or nonfanship as this is likely to help sports researchers conceptualize and measure such fanship. Accordingly, the following research questions guided the study:
Method
Procedure and Participants
Data were collected using Amazon’s Mechanical Turk (MTurk), a widely used and effective platform for researchers (Casler, Bickel, & Hackett, 2013; Hauser & Schwarz, 2016). To be eligible for this study, Amazon’s MTurk workers had to be 18 years or older and U.S. residents. Those who completed the survey received a US$1 reward through the MTurk platform. The call for participants made clear that the study was designed for nonfans as well as fans. On average, the survey took 20 min to complete. Those who self-identified as fans were presented with more questions than those who identified as nonfans, and thus completion of the survey took longer for that group.
A total of 1,306 participants started the survey. Data from 200 participants were deleted because their questionnaires were incomplete or blank. An additional 13 questionnaires were removed because participants completed the study in less than 5 min, considered too fast for the participant to read through the questions and provide valid responses. This left a total of 1,093 respondents in the data set for analysis.
The average age of those in our sample was 35.8 (SD = 11.41; range 18–74). A slight majority (52.5%) was female, and most respondents (55.6%) were married. Most (77.8%) were White, with 7.4% Black, 6.3% Asian, 5.5% self-identified as Latino, and 3% as “Other.” An overwhelming majority (85%) noted they had attended at least some college. About as many respondents self-identified as fans (N = 551) and nonfans (N = 542). Men were more likely to identify as fans (62.1%), women as nonfans (67.3%). Compared to their counterparts, fans were also more likely to have a college degree (61.0–47.8%). Otherwise, at least among the demographic attributes assessed, fans and nonfans were remarkably similar.
Measures
To address the research questions at hand, respondents were asked if they considered themselves sports fans and given two options—yes or no. Participants were then asked to explain their choice. Fans answered the question: “Tell us what makes you a sports fan and what being a sports fan means to you.” Nonfans replied to this: “There are a lot of reasons for not being a sports fan. Why do you think you’re not one?” Based on the themes that emerged from the open-ended responses, three coders created seven broad categories characterizing fans and, coincidentally, the same number of broad categories for nonfans.
Coders recorded up to two categories of responses for each participant’s open-ended comments. We aimed to capture the most important component of fanship mentioned by the respondent. A second code was recorded only when the reason listed was distinctly different from the first and appeared to reflect as meaningful a consideration for the participant as the first.
Guided by previous research (Lynch & Martins, 2015; van Driel, Grabe, Bas, & Kleemans, 2016), three coders coded 20% of the sample collectively and one coder finished the final 80%. In case of doubt, for example when more than two or none of the categories seemed to fit, codes were assigned after consultation with a second coder.
For fans, the categories were (1) strong emotional tie (a reference to love or passion for sports, the game, a team, or an athlete; a strong emotional component is clearly present—e.g., to experience the ups and downs with a team), (2) enjoyment (any reference to enjoyment or liking sports, without an emotional component associated with it), (3) social (emphasis on the social connection with family, friends, or other fans that sports provides), (4) knowledge and frequency (a dry list of facts relating to the amount of knowledge about sports and/or the frequency of following sports, sports news, and sports statistics), (5) pass time (sports is described as nothing more than a way to pass time), (6) not much of a fan (fanship is limited, making it seem like the description of a nonfan), and (7) other (anything that did not fit the previous categories or did not contain enough information to be able to derive the meaning the respondent intended). For any participant, the category “strong emotional tie” overruled the category “enjoyment”: If a participant wrote about enjoying sports but also spoke about their passion for a team and willingness to ride through bad times as well as good, their response was coded as “strong emotional tie,” and nothing else. We argued that fans with signs of love, emotion, passion belonged to a different category than those who listed mere enjoyment.
For nonfans, the categories were (1) boring (sports were boring, uninteresting, not important, a waste of time or any variation thereof; (2) but am a fan (the characteristics listed by the respondent resemble those of a fan); (3) prefer to do other things (other activities were preferred or had priority over sports); (4) it is not who I am (respondents referred to their personality or upbringing/childhood in explaining why they were not fans); (5) sports have bad outcomes (the negative consequences of sports such as long-term injuries to the athletes; money and time spent on sports would be better placed elsewhere); (6) don’t follow enough (participants did not feel they spent enough time following sports to be considered a fan); and (7) other (too little information was present to determine a theme, or the comment did not belong to any of the themes listed). For any participant, the category “it’s not who I am” overrode the category “boring”: If a respondent wrote about sports being boring and that it just was not who they were, the answer was coded as the latter, more than mere boredom was at stake.
Level of fanship
Participants were also asked to indicate the extent of their fanship by responding to the statement (on a scale of 0–10) “I consider myself a sports fan,” a measure ESPN has used to assess sports avidity.
Results
Why Adults Are Fans
The first research question asked why sports fans are fans. A sizable majority of respondents (61.5%) who said they were sports fans described some form of strong emotional tie to sports (see Table 1). Even when coding up to two categories for each participant, no other factor came close. Enjoyment and the social dimension of sports fanship were described by 18.9% and 16.5%, respectively. One in 10 (10.1%) accounted for their fanship on the basis of the time they invested in following sports.
What Makes You a Sports Fan?
Strong emotional tie
Fans shared connections and emotional responses that extended well beyond the simple and often transitory enjoyment associated with watching sports. They wrote about their love and passion for sports, teams, and players, about their lifelong involvement in sports. Within this category, three themes emerged: deeply personal involvement with a team, one’s own experiences as an athlete, and childhood memories.
Personal involvement with a team
Responses detailed the commitment and relationship respondents experienced with a specific team or teams. The following serve as exemplars for this theme: I am a dedicated fan of my home team. When they win, it feels great. When they lose, a little part of me dies each time. I enjoy sports that much. I love every aspect about it. The games, the competitive aspect of it, the strategies involved in the game, free agency, trades, salary caps, drafts…. I love it all. What being a sports fan means to me is sticking to your team, your sport, your league through thick and thin. It means supporting your team if they’re the best or the worst. It means having hope every time a season is about to begin. It means not jumping ship when someone is traded or leaves through free agency. It’s about bleeding your colors. It’s about enjoying it that much.
Personality/athlete
Here, respondents referred to their own athletic ability as an attribute of their sports fanship. Fanship appeared to be an extension of their own experiences, providing them with insights about what they watched. It also allowed them to vicariously experience what they had in the past. At my age now I no longer compete at a high level, but still play. And being a fan allows you to participate in a game you love and can no longer play (if you ever did) at a high level. I am a sports fan because I grew up being an athlete. I was raised around sports and around watching sports.
Childhood (memories)
Some fans focused on the past and the role their childhood experiences played in shaping their current fanship. Sports fanship was part of their upbringing, their heritage, a part of them for just about as long as their memories permit. The following three responses reflect this view: My being a sports fan began as a very young boy. My father and I watched sports on TV together beginning when I was about 4 years old. Throughout my childhood, this was a significant, meaningful, and enjoyable way that we spent time together. This set the stage for my remaining a sports fan in my young adulthood. My late father’s greatest passion (other than his family) was Tulane University athletics. He was a football season ticket holder for over 40 years, a Tulane Booster Club member and officer, and an ardent supporter of all Tulane sports. The playgrounds of my childhood were the Tulane University athletic facilities. Dad was at Tulane four or five times a week and I was usually with him. In the fall, it was all about football. In the spring, women’s basketball and then baseball were his favorites. Many of those student athletes were my childhood heroes. Even after I went away to college and then graduate school, Dad and I still talked on the phone after most of the games. To this day, I remain a huge fan of intercollegiate athletics.
Enjoyment
Second to deep emotional connections, respondents listed enjoyment most frequently as they explained what made them fans. Responses here focused on the pleasures associated with following sports but lacked the deep emotion, the love or passion, associated with the previous category. As the following examples suggest, enjoyment reflected tempered affect: I enjoy multiple facets of the game itself, as well as certain teams, players, and inter-league actions. It’s fun and entertaining. I enjoy the rivalries, the stars, and the game play.
Social aspect
Somewhat surprisingly, the number of respondents emphasizing the social dimension of their fanship was relatively low. For some, though, social ties mattered, be they with friends, those who became friends because of shared affection for teams and players, or with family. Responses here focused on relational ties, on time spent together pursuing shared and valued interests. The following comments reflect this component of fanship: It means that you can interact with others that feel the same way as you do about your team. It’s a family. Planning weekends around sporting events. Going to events with friends. Sitting around arguing about sports with friends and rivals. Being a sports fan is being a member of my family and community. Sports events on TV are often parts of our holidays.
Knowledge and frequency
This category of responses, devoid of emotion or team affiliation, consisted of the activities fans engaged in. For these respondents, fanship was characterized by their attention to sports, with the hours and days following sports akin to a fanship badge of honor. What makes me a sports fan is the dedication of watching every single game of the season. It means watching every game and knowing what players play a certain position. Also buying tickets to their game. I follow a lot of teams and watch games whenever I have the chance.
To pass time
A small number of participants referred to sports as no more than a way to pass time or have something to do. Here are two brief examples of that: I watch college football and basketball to pass the time. In all, being a sports fan is a way to just have an outside interest.
Not much of a fan
A small number of fans downplayed their fanship, at times significantly. Comments that clustered here suggested that even though they checked off being a fan, some of these participants might not consider themselves one—or at least not a truly committed one. On occasion, participants seemed to recognize the incongruity between their behaviors and affect. Comments offered by three participants illustrate this type of response: What it means to me isn’t really that much though—they are all just games after all. As for what it means? Not much of anything. Doesn’t influence my life. I am not consumed by sports nor do I spend a lot of time looking up stats or scores but I enjoy watching games and events. I like when my favorite teams win and am sad when they lose. I think enjoying a game or even in any capacity makes you a sports fan.
Why Adults Are Not Fans
The second research question was designed to understand why some adults were not sports fans. Among those who said they were not sports fans, a majority (54.8%) said it was because sports were boring (see Table 2). Three other reasons stood out, although none were cited by more than one in five nonfans: Participants had other activities they preferred or needed to do (17.7%), being a sports fan was not consistent with who they were or how they were raised (16.1%), and they were not fans because of bad outcomes they associated with sports. A small proportion of participants (2.0%) said they did not follow sports enough to consider themselves fans. Interestingly, far more (17.7%) who said they were not fans offered reasons that suggested that by other accounts they actually might be considered fans.
Reasons Why People Say They Are Not a Sports Fan.
Sports are boring
This category of responses was marked by terms such as boring, uninteresting, or not enjoyable. For whatever reason, sports did not capture or hold their attention. Some comments were laced with disdain: Sports were a waste of time. A proportion of the nonfans noted they just did not have the time or interest to sit through sports. Others said they tried but found they grew too impatient to watch sports, occasionally noting with wistfulness that they wished they were able to be more interested. The following comments reflect the range of responses nonfans provided that fit within this broad category: I have just never really cared about sports. I would love to be able to foster as much enthusiasm about sports as other people, because they’re clearly having an awesome time, and feeling peppy and alive, but nope, I don’t have any of that. The idea of sitting for several hours every weekend or several nights a week is not appealing to me. [M]y attention span is short for sports, and I have trouble sitting still for long periods of time doing nothing but watching TV.
But am a fan
At least from our perspective, a surprising proportion of nonfans explained their nonfanship in ways others might consider fanship. For these participants, it was not enough to follow a team, a league, or a sport. It appears they did not think they had committed enough time or energy or spread their interest across a wide enough portion of the sports spectrum to think of themselves as a fan. This included a handful of participants interested in eSports. I like to follow certain teams and watch big games, but I don’t really follow sports myself. I like one team, maybe two, the MLB Mets and like the Phillies a little. I have never really liked sports too much. I just follow football, I pay attention to college, pro, and my high school’s football games. I’ll watch eSports more than anything because it’s just the game, and I don’t really have to know who people are to be able to enjoy it.
Prefer other things
Another theme that emerged was that nonfans felt they had other, often more important, things to attend to. Their interests were elsewhere—including, on occasion, participating in sports rather than watching sports on TV. But, as documented below, those interested sometimes involved screen time. I was always more interested in video games and technology over sports. I would rather be playing the sport myself instead of watching someone else do it.
Not who I am
In this cluster of responses, participants described a psychological distance between their sense of self and sports. Instead of being sports fans, they were “nerds” or more on the “intellectual” side. Others claimed they grew up in a family that did not pay attention to sports. On the other hand, still others wrote they were not fans because they had bad experiences with fans during childhood, sometimes with members of their own family. Two responses illustrate these themes. I grew up in a college town where the football fans arrived in their campers, puked on the ground, and drove away the next day leaving a tremendous pile of garbage. It became part of my identity as a young teen to distance myself from this group. […] I think that if sports had been a bigger part of my childhood, I would be interested in those same games as an adult. I am not athletic. I was picked on in grade school for not doing well in gym class and it has scarred me for life.
Sports have bad outcomes
Comments here ranged from athletes being overpaid and serving as bad role models for children to injuries and sports being a distraction from real issues that the world needs to confront. Participants who wrote about this did not hold back their scorn.
Two examples demonstrate this: I’d rather see people cooperate to achieve a worthwhile goal, rather than compete to discover who’s the “best” at something that doesn’t really matter. Throwing a ball? Catching a ball? Who cares about the ball; go help people instead. Sport eats a gargantuan amount of money and resources that would be better spent elsewhere, and elevates poor role models to the attention of millions. Because sports are inherently corrupt. They have become a big business and sportsmanship and fair play have disappeared. Many if not most athletes are criminals and cheaters.
Don’t follow enough
A small portion of the respondents noted they did not engage with sports enough to be considered a fan. They followed sports but did not seek it out, spend enough time or know enough about sports to be fans. Here are two examples of answers: I don’t watch every game or know every player on the team. I enjoy watching sports such as gymnastics, MMA, swimming, ice-skating, and martial arts when I come across them, but I do not actively seek them out. I also do not keep track of any particular athlete, team, coach, etc. on a regular basis.
Validity of Self-Identification of Sports Fanship
The third research question was designed to assess the validity of using a closed-ended question of self-identification as a sports fan or nonfan.
Yes/no dichotomous choice fanship option
Compared to responses to a follow-up open-ended question, the dichotomous choice self-identification item appears to work very well for fans but less well for those who describe themselves as nonfans. Only 2% of those who said they were sports fans offered answers that appeared to equivocate their fanship (e.g., other than following sports, sports had no impact on their lives, as described earlier). On the other hand, nearly 1 in 5 (18%) nonfans listed characteristics that were similar to responses fans offered as characteristics of their fanship (e.g., for a single sport, paying attention to high school, college and professional teams, again, as described earlier).
Fanship avidity
A more clear-cut distinction between fans and nonfans arose with the use of a close-ended continuous measure. Participants who self-identified as fans on the dichotomous option scored significantly higher on the 0–10 measure than did nonfans; fans, M = 8.14, SD = 2.02; nonfans, M = .70, SD = 1.27; F(1, 550) = 529.79. Participants who self-identified as fans but showed nonfan characteristics in their open-ended answers scored lower on a closed-ended fanship item than those who self-identified as fans and described their fanship without equivocation (see Table 3). Specifically, using a 0–0 agreement scale for the item “I consider myself a sports fan,” the mean score for these participants was 6.5. For other self-identified fans, those indicating to be a fan “to pass time” also had a score below 7 (M = 6.82). All other fans provided a score that was considerably higher (M = between 7.46 and 8.65). All fans scored higher than nonfans. Yet only fans who emphasized social connections and passion in their open-ended answers would be among ESPN’s avid fanship group.
Comparing Fan Avidity to Open-Ended Fan Descriptions.
The average score on our 11-point fanship item for the group of nonfans whose open-ended responses suggested at least a modicum of fanship was 0.7, well below those offered by fans (see Table 4). Such a score is consistent with a “No” response to the dichotomous choice (yes/no) measure: These people do not consider themselves fans. Yet, their open-ended responses suggest that a good number of self-identified nonfans pay some attention to sports. These people may not purchase tickets to sport contests and they are unlikely to interest marketers who sponsor sports, but—assuming the validity of open-ended comments offered—our data suggest that researchers who rely on dichotomous or a single 0–10 scale measure of sports fanship are likely to exclude some who actually follow sports and, thus, base their analyses on a group of fans that may be a bit narrow. At the same time and as noted earlier, the scores on the fan avidity scale demonstrate a wide gap between self-identified fans and nonfans, including those who display fanlike behavior.
Comparing Fan Avidity to Open-Ended Nonfan Descriptions.
Discussion
The current study aimed to contribute to knowledge about sports fans by asking self-appointed fans and nonfans to describe why they placed themselves in either of those categories. In line with previous research (e.g., Dietz-Uhler et al., 2000), this study confirmed that fans are not united in their descriptions of what makes them a fan. Collectively, fanship appears to be a multilayered concept (e.g., Wenner & Gantz, 1998; Waters, Burke, Jackson, & Buning, 2011). What is important to one fan may not even be mentioned by another. This study also provided insight in the hearts and minds of nonfans who, as it turns out, offer equally varied reasons for not being interested.
Coincidentally, seven broad themes arose for both fans and nonfans. The most frequently offered descriptors and explanations—strong emotional tie (fans) and sports are boring (nonfans)—were particularly broad and contained subthemes. Prior to presenting these data, we combined a good number of subcategories to keep analysis and interpretation manageable. This is in line with Wann, Tucker, and Schrader (1996) who established no less than 40 categories based on the question of how people became a fan of their team. Attributes counting toward fanship and nonfanship are extremely diverse. At the same time, our findings underscore the importance of affect for fans: Participants describe themselves as sports fans because they care, because what happens on the field matters to them. Fans bring personal history and passion. At a minimum, following sports is enjoyable (perhaps even when a favored team loses) and reflects a commitment of time fans are willing to give. The social dimension contributes as well. But, our data suggest that for fans, social sharing enriches and complements the experience rather than dictates participation or enjoyment. Sports fanship is marked by an underlying passion that makes following sports so compelling. At the same time, our data suggest that for nonfans, the social dimension simply makes sports consumption tolerable. Nonfans do not intellectually or emotionally relate to sports. There is no visceral connection. Instead, there is boredom and, for some, disdain or disgust. We acknowledge that interests change over time, witness the upsurge of interest in the United States for what we call soccer. Yet we suspect that shift occurred among those who were sports fans: They simply added soccer to the list of sports they followed. Our data suggest that despite efforts by sports media producers, nonfans will not be swayed. It will take more than clever, personality-driven sports programming to sustain added viewership across the long seasons of each sport and league. More research is needed to confirm this hypothesis.
For us, the most methodologically interesting finding is the frequency with which there appeared to be a mismatch between self-proclamation of (non) fanship and the reason associated with that selection. A sizable number of self-proclaimed fans expressed levels of disinterest in sports. Conversely, a significant number of those who said they were not sports fans wrote about the ways in which they followed sports. It may be that the line between fanship and nonfanship is blurred. Indeed, Gantz, Wang, Paul, and Potter (2006) remarked that fanship is most likely more of a continuous than a dichotomous variable. ESPN’s description of fans as they fall on ESPN’s 11-point fanship scale is in line with that perspective (ESPN, 2009). However, reality may be more murky than that. A continuous variable would still assume some form of hierarchy, while the current findings suggest fanship as a set of eclectic attributes that cannot be placed on an ordered continuum. If we accept as accurate each participant’s self-description, there may be an overlap between fan and nonfan categories, implying that even the simple deduction that fanship should be stronger among self-proclaimed fans than self-proclaimed nonfans does not hold true.
Our findings also speak to the validity of using a dichotomous variable to assess sports fanship, where fanship is determined by the participant’s response (e.g., ESPN, 2009). Our data suggest that when participants are asked if they are fans—and given a simple yes/no option—a proportion each way which misplace themselves, at least on the basis of the behavior and affect they report elsewhere. Self-reported nonfans will include those who choose to watch sports and follow a player, team, or league. Self-reported fans will include those who appear to be quite uninterested. Using a single item with multiple response options (e.g., a 10- or 11-point fanship scale) seems to provide a valid distinction at least between avid and non-avid fans. This suggests leaving it up to researchers to define sports fanship, although this presents its own set of challenges and questions: Should fanship be determined by intensity, interest or passion, perceived knowledge, time spent consuming sports, purchases potentially demonstrating commitment (e.g., buying tickets to watch sports, purchasing sports paraphernalia), or by some combination of knowledge, affect, and behavior? If level of fanship matters (e.g., level of intensity or perceived knowledge, amount of viewing or purchases, frequency of attendance), then what cutoffs apply? Is 1 on a 0–10 scale sufficient for a participant to be called a fan? Should eSports be included in the mix and, if so, do researchers need to let participants know of its inclusion or exclusion? If someone is devoted to one team in a fairly unknown sport, but does not care much about other sports, is that person a fan of sports?
Right now, there does not appear to be a single, right answer for defining sports fanship. This study has emphasized that fanship is a multidimensional concept. As also demonstrated by previous studies, there are consequences to categorizing fans one way or another. Categorizing fans based on self-reported knowledge results in a group different from when fans are grouped based on factual knowledge questions (Hahn & Cummins, 2017). And by means of self-identification alone, we may include more men than women. Using open-ended qualitative options may lead to identifying more female fans and simultaneously reveal attributes and behaviors women associate with fanship that many (male) scholars may not have considered (Dietz-Uhler et al., 2000). Our results, based on a more general American sample, demonstrated an equal variety of interpretations of what it means to be a fan; some display all possible fanship behaviors, while others list one specific fanship characteristic only. And, some consider themselves to be a fan for the same reasons another decides on belonging to the nonfan category.
At least to us, it is clear that researcher decisions play a large role in determining what and who a sports fan is. Fanship depends on the measures and cutoffs researchers employ. It may be asking too much to arrive at shared conceptual and methodological definitions of sports fanship. Indeed, diversity here may be helpful as the study of different dimensions of fanship adds to our collective storehouse of information about sports fanship. But, we think it quite reasonable to ask and expect that those studying sports fanship offer explicit conceptual definitions of sports fanship, share this with their respondents who then can approach providing answers with a common perspective, and take into consideration that whatever measure they use for sports fanship will have consequences.
Footnotes
Authors’ Note
Irene I. van Driel is now affiliated with Amsterdam School of Communication Research, University of Amsterdam.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.