The room is silent. A room full of drinking, laughing, and cheering just hours before is now full of sadness, shock, and disappointment. No one dares to say a word as we watch the seconds run off the clock and the other team storm the field. The confetti falls on our blank faces.
We had been following this team for 18 weeks only to fall short in the last 7 minutes of the NFL season. My cousin holds his head in his hands in complete disbelief. My uncle sits down for the first time to steady himself. My aunt holds her hands in a prayer position hoping for a miracle that would not come. I don’t know what to do but stand completely still.
Now in the past, I have reacted in various…colorful ways. In 2013, the last time the 49ers lost the Super Bowl, I was drunk in a college dorm and tried to fight a girl who physically got in my face cheering on the Ravens. In 2016, when the wArRiOrS bLeW a 3-1 LeAd, I threw my phone at my door which created a hole that I would eventually have to cover to get my security deposit back. In 2019, when the Raptors beat a broken Warriors team, I yelled at the TV until the yells eventually became sobs.
It’s incredibly embarrassing writing those down on paper. But I’ve learned through various therapy sessions that I cannot expect to control my anger if I’m not willing to face my failures. On Sunday, I held my head high and didn’t throw anything, didn’t yell anything, and didn’t rage text or post online. I’m no perfect fan, but I’m making progress with my anger and I’m proud of it.
Observing my family during the game on Sunday, I realized where I get this passion for my teams. It all stems from intense loyalty I learned from them. Growing up in the bay area I always watched the games with my family. My fandom is surrounded and supported by the people I hold closest to my heart. When I moved away for college, those teams became a symbol of home, of my family 3000 miles away. When you disrespect my team, you disrespect my family and my hometown. It seems silly to say out loud, but real fans should understand where I’m coming from. You stick with your team no matter what, just like family.
This Super Bowl was a different case for me. Vinny—my boyfriend, my roommate, the man who has been like family in his own right—is a Chiefs fan. Fate is cruel f*king bitch. It’s unfortunate that his happiness has had to come at the expense of my sadness. I’ve been a Chiefs’ sympathizer for as long as I’ve known him. I’ve seen him get broken down time and time again by his team, a feeling I know well. Last year when the Chiefs lost to the Patriots in the AFC championship, he told me that he’ll be ok because he “won the Super Bowl of girlfriends” as he held me in his sadness. I may or may not have cried for him right then and there. Oh and did I mention, he’s also a Mariners, Rockies, Nuggets, and Clippers fan? We’ve lived on opposite sides of the championship coin our entire lives. The Giants won 3, the Warriors won 3, and the 49ers have 5. His teams? 2 Championships total between 5 teams.
This loss has been complicated for me. Following the game, I tried desperately to throw myself into being happy for Vinny. You tell yourself all the things you need to get through. “It wasn’t meant to be,” “They’ll be back next year,” “They had an amazing season,” “If the refs just didn’t blow that call...,” “We’re a better team, we just got out played,” etc. You try to keep your chin up when the world just wants to bury you.
Truth be told, I thought I was doing ok after the loss. Then the internet chimes in. “Why didn’t we run the ball more??” “This was a fluke, the Niners won’t be back next year.” “Jimmy G ain’t it.” “Shanahan is a choke artist.”
Now, the doubt settles in. The naysayers get louder and the comfort of hope for the next year gets quieter. The sad part is, a lot of the people online with doubts are “fans.” I’m sorry, but Kyle Shanahan ain’t gonna look at your Twitter for advice. All these “fans” are giving their theories for what? It’s easy to get caught up in the what if’s of every game. It’s easier to scrutinize every decision than to accept the loss for what it is. It’s easy to play the blame game with a bunch of players you forget are human beings first and foremost.
What is the point of bringing more hate to your team when the media is already going to do it for you? The worst part about this Super Bowl loss is that the 49ers could not change the narrative the world set up for them going into this game. And now some of the “Faithful” are playing into that narrative as if the team doesn’t have enough to bear on their shoulders.
Of course, that is not all fans and I’ve also seen many people looking forward to next year. That’s the difficult part of fandom, especially in the social media age. As much progress as I’ve made with my inner toxic fan, I cannot force others to do the same. There are grown men and women twice my age who will never learn their lesson. I’m trying to fix myself now so I never become them. You can be a true, passionate fan without spewing hate into the world. I understand there is hurt behind it. I am hurt too. But being hurt is not an excuse to lash out, a lesson I struggle with all the time.
As shitty as sports fandom can be, there is also something beautiful to be said about fans. We enjoy sports because it’s high risk, high reward. Your team either wins it all or loses it all. At the beginning of the season, every fan base holds a hope, no matter how futile, that this could be their year. Hidden in the depths of the painful, heartbreaking losses, are the triumphant, glorious wins.
The 49ers lost the Super Bowl this year. Wait, the 49ers were in the Super Bowl this year…after a 2018-2019 season where they were 4-12. The rookie they drafted this year won Defensive Rookie of the Year. The average age for the players on the 49ers is 26.
A team who has been on the cusp of a championship for years won their first Super Bowl in 50 years with an MVP who is arguably the best QB in the league. Vinny, a fan who has never seen a single championship in his 26 years of life, was in Kansas City when the trophy was handed to an incredible, deserving coach Andy Reid.
The first female coach in the NFL, Katie Sowers, was able to go to the Super Bowl. Her commercial spot telling her story was broadcast nationally to millions of people. Some of those people were young girls who love football. The door has been open and that is bigger than the game. It gives people something to hope for.
That is also the beautiful thing about sports: Hope. Whether that be hope to get back to the Super Bowl and take that ring home or hope that you will be a better fan than you have been in the past. Those internet trolls feed off of people losing hope. Hope is more powerful than pain and anger. I hope for the best for my teams, its staff, and its fans.
People often tell me, don’t get too emotional over it because sports don’t really matter. I guess on a singular level it doesn’t, but sports are never singular. I live in LA now and have seen first hand how sports have affected people outside of the game. Tell Lakers fans mourning the loss of Kobe Bryant and his daughter that sports do not matter. Tell the kid who gets an athletic scholarship to a dream college that sports do not matter. Tell Andy Reid, Katie Sowers, Patrick Mahomes—the 2nd black QB to win the Super Bowl MVP—that sports do not matter. To say that statement is ignorance at its finest.
So what’s next? That’s the question you have to ask yourself as a fan of the losing team. We have to look forward, hug one another, and move on to what really matters. To me sports are a symbol of home, family, and hope. I hope every day that fans can be courteous and embody true sportsmanship values. I love and am proud of the 49ers this year. I congratulate the Chiefs and am happy for the man I love. Enjoy the wins when they come, they may be few and far between. Respect and be kind to one another, it is all we can really do as fans.