Why I Still Love Sports Even When They Break My Heart
There’s nothing quite like being in a stadium when your team scores. Photo: Unsplash
I’ve spent this whole month writing about everything wrong with sports in 2025. The gambling addiction crisis. The NIL chaos destroying college athletics. Athlete salaries that don’t make sense to normal people. My Sixers breaking my heart again. The NFL playoff picture confusing everyone. I’ve been critical. Probably too critical sometimes.
But I need to end November with something real: despite all of it, I still love sports. I wake up on Sundays excited. I check box scores first thing in the morning. I yell at my TV like the players can hear me. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid and I don’t plan on stopping.
Marcus’s Take:
I played ball in college. Nothing serious—I wasn’t going pro—but I know what it feels like to compete. The nerves before a game. The exhaustion after. The bond you form with teammates who are grinding alongside you. That experience changed how I watch sports. I see the work behind the highlights. I understand the pressure these athletes perform under.
My shoulder still hurts sometimes from an injury I got my junior year. It aches when the weather changes. Sounds dramatic but it’s true. That pain is also a reminder of the best years of my life. The competition. The camaraderie. The feeling of being part of something bigger than yourself. Sports gave me that.
Being from Philly means sports are identity. The Eagles. The Sixers. The Phillies. The Union (yes I said it). These teams are woven into who we are. When the Birds won Super Bowl LII, I cried. Grown man tears. Because it wasn’t just a game—it was validation for decades of believing in something that kept disappointing us. That’s not rational. It’s not supposed to be.
The Magic:
The World Series Game 7 this year—Dodgers vs Blue Jays—was one of the greatest games I’ve ever watched. Extra innings. Lead changes. A walk-off home run in the 11th. I don’t care about either team. I watched the entire thing on the edge of my seat. That’s what sports can do. They create moments that transcend fandom.
The problems are real though. I’m not going to pretend they aren’t. The betting apps are targeting young men with predatory precision. NIL has turned college sports into a mercenary league. Ticket prices have made attending games impossible for working families. Media companies are fragmenting coverage so you need six different subscriptions to watch your teams. It’s a mess.
But here’s what I’ve realized: complaining about these things IS being a fan. We criticize because we care. The casual observers don’t write 1,200-word articles about gambling addiction or transfer portal chaos. The people who love sports do. Our frustration comes from wanting the thing we love to be better.
Real Talk:
My dad took me to my first Eagles game when I was 7. Veterans Stadium. Terrible seats. Coldest I’ve ever been. Best day of my childhood. He’s gone now but every time I watch the Birds, he’s there with me somehow. Sports create those connections across generations. They give us shared language with strangers. “Did you see that catch?” breaks ice faster than anything.
I don’t know what sports will look like in 10 years. Maybe NIL gets figured out. Maybe gambling regulations catch up. Maybe salaries plateau. Maybe everything gets worse. I’ll still be watching. I’ll still be writing. I’ll still be yelling at my TV like a maniac while my neighbors wonder what’s wrong with me.
That’s the whole jawn about being a fan. You don’t choose it rationally. It chooses you. And once it does, you’re in for life.
Ard, that’s my final piece for November. Go Birds. Trust the Process. Philly against everybody. See y’all in December.
