Splash. Game over. The buzzer sounds and the confetti falls. People in the stands are hugging each other left and right, including complete strangers, shamelessly reacting as if this moment—watching a leather ball go through a net—is the greatest event it has ever witnessed.
Young and old, basketball fanatics and casual viewers, Asians and Caucasians, blacks and Hispanics—the fan population could not be more diverse. Yet why is it so united over this seemingly insignificant occasion? Is it due to a collective appreciation for the game of basketball and, subsequently, for the shot they had just witnessed? While this is likely a factor, it cannot be the only reason since buzzer-beating shots are a fairly common occurrence in the NBA. What is causing this reaction is the significance of the occasion: the Portland Trail Blazers have just advanced past the first round of the Playoffs for the first time in fourteen years. On the night of May 2, 2014, everyone supporting the Blazers is family, whether one is in the stands of the Moda Center or watching from home like me, still jumping up and down in joy; it does not matter if you have been a die-hard fan for years or if you’re new to the party.
Basketball tugs at man’s tribalistic tendencies in a way that naturally draws fans to the game, including myself. However, the underlying reason for this tribalism varies among basketball fans. For some, feeling accepted by a community of fans who all support the same team is attractive enough. However, for others what really attracts them is the opportunity to “publicly [announce their] associations with successful others” even if they had “done nothing to bring about the other’s success”—a phenomenon psychologist Robert Cialdini called “basking in reflected glory” in his study on football fans conducted in 1976 (Cialdini and Borden). For the fans in this category, the Blazers victory was simply a step forward toward the ultimate goal of winning an NBA championship. This goal is shared by every team because it is the greatest accolade a team can earn for a given season. With a championship comes a banner forever hanging up on the rafters of the stadium; with a championship comes diamond-studded rings awarded to each member of the team; with a championship comes recognition from the rest of world that this team is the best—at least for the time being. This desire trickles from the teams themselves down to the fans; the Blazers fanbase wants nothing more for the team than for it to win an NBA championship, myself included. And I would not doubt that other fanbases share the same sentiment for their respective teams. It is not simply that fans want the players and coaches to be exalted, for they too wish to partake in this transcendental experience—after all the years they stuck with the team, after all they have been through, they’ve earned it, right?
Greatness can also be observed within individual players in addition to entire teams. Inevitably, certain players receive more recognition than others, and rightfully so; if one player single-handedly carries his team to victory, he should receive more attention than his teammates on the bench. But with this disparity of recognition comes comparisons by the public as to which players are superior to others—not just in the present, but throughout history. Thus begins the labelling of all-time greats and the arguments about what constitutes greatness at the individual level. A term that has seen significant usage as of late is ‘GOAT,’ which stands for Greatest of All Time. The meaning is self-explanatory: the GOAT is the greatest basketball player ever. (The term is also used in other sports.) Many contend that Michael Jordan is the GOAT because of his superior offensive and defensive abilities as well as career achievements, which include six NBA Championships, five Most Valuable Player (MVP) awards, and fourteen All-Star Game selections. However, some believe that others have legitimate cases as to why they ought to be considered the GOAT rather than Jordan.
I remember having a basketball conversation with a friend over pizza; at one point, he jokingly states that Bill Russell is the GOAT. (Bill Russell won eleven championships in his tenure—the most in NBA history by any player—but many discredit them because of the lack of competition during his career.) Immediately after he says this, a man walking in front of the restaurant stops in his tracks.
"Nah-ah.”
He turns towards us—an old man wearing a Chicago Bulls hat. What follows is a debate in which my friend argues why Bill Russell is the GOAT while the man, unsurprisingly, argues why Michael Jordan is the GOAT. I’m sitting there awkwardly in silence while another man in the restaurant watches from the back. Once the Jordan fan is content that he has won the argument, he leaves while saying, “Take this L.”
Even though this fan’s passion was exaggerated and somewhat humorous, I could relate to it, especially when I recall my emotional response to the outcome of the 2016 NBA Finals, in which the Cleveland Cavaliers, led by LeBron James, came back from a 1-3 deficit to defeat the Golden State Warriors, who were considered one of the greatest teams ever. I remember thinking afterwards, “Maybe LeBron is the GOAT.”
Just as fans care about their teams winning championships because they want to partake in what may feel like the supernatural, they are naturally pulled toward the topic of the GOAT because they can relate to man’s quest to attain transcendence, to leave behind a lasting legacy—to achieve immortality. This appears not only on the professional stage but even at the modest level of playing pickup basketball at the local gym. When one scores the majority of his team’s points or crosses over his defender, leaving him helpless on the floor, he experiences the same glorification that the all time greats strive after, if even only a sliver. He feels immortal, if only for a moment, and it is this feeling that fuels his helpless attraction toward the game. But this also extends beyond the game of basketball; one can simply turn to other sports like football which have similar debates regarding who the GOAT is, or Silicon Valley, where billions of dollars are being invested into research with the ultimate goal of human immortality. At the root of it, basketball triggers for many the insatiable desire to become something greater, to push their limits—whether or not they realize it.
However, the tribalistic and transcendental components of basketball are not entirely independent from one another, for they can work together to provide more opportunities to bask in reflected glory. We need not look any further than the Michael Jordan fan wearing the Chicago Bulls hat who relentlessly argues why Jordan is the GOAT. He is especially passionate about the topic of the GOAT because he finds it particularly interesting, and this is because it spurs his desire for transcendence innate to all human beings. And yet in doing so, he displays his affiliation with the Jordan tribe, which one could already guess given his hat. Thus, he basks in the glory of Michael Jordan’s greatness, boosting his own status.
This combination of tribalism and transcendence permeates throughout sports media today. Having been an avid viewer of television programs like ESPN’s First Take and Skip and Shannon: Undisputed, I can attest to the fact that the topics of GOAT, legacy and the like come up so frequently that it seems like they are all the hosts ever talk about. This is not a coincidence; these shows wish to maximize profits, and they know that discussing these topics will maximize their profits because viewers find them the most interesting. This has led to these topics’ becoming commonplace among today’s generation of sports fans, appearing in countless discussions and arguments on social media on a daily basis. However, whether or not they realize the underlying reasons for their interest, one thing for sure is that fans generally enjoy discussing these topics and discussing sports in general. And some would argue that they don’t need to know why; the fun they have following sports is more than enough to stick around.
Works Cited
Cialdini, Robert B., and Richard J. Borden. "Basking in Reflected Glory: Three (Football) Field Studies." Journal of Personality and Social Psychology Vol. 34. No. 3 (1976): 366-375. Print.