THE AGONY AND ECSTASY OF A SPORTS FAN

The twin aims of literature, the 17th century English poet John Dryden said, were to instruct and delight. What might be the aim of sport? Rather, what is the purpose of sport to those who are merely fans, who follow and watch sport but have no stake in it in terms of money or a career?

In the first month of the new year, it is worth exploring why we, as fans, make such huge investments in emotion and time on it, why we care about it to the point of obsession, why it is such an important part of our lives.

It is because sport is a window on to a parallel – perhaps better – universe, one that offers us unbounded joy, optimism and delirium.

On May 17, 2014, Arsenal, the football club I support, won the FA Cup. I watched the final at home with my daughter, who, like me, supports Arsenal with borderline crazy passion. In all her years as a fan (she was 12 at the time), she had never seen her team win a trophy. It had been 3283 days since Arsenal’s last piece of silverware.

In fewer than 15 minutes, Arsenal was 0-2 down. The wretchedness that Arsenal fans are familiar with began to engulf us. Not just my daughter and me. All our other fellow fans, in various parts of the world, watching in various time zones, who were in touch on text messages, began to despair. Bottled it. Again. Talk swirled of all the other finals we had let slip away. Then a sumptuous Santi Cazorla free kick made it 1-1. Arsenal left it till late in the game to equalise. But, after a nerve shredding period of extra time, a flick from the boot of Aaron Ramsey won the game. Arsenal. Champions again. The trophy drought was over. And the year was made for a certain 12-year-old, and thousands of other 12-year-olds, across the world.