I'm not a sports person. I spent most of my childhood reading about dragons. When I wasn't being bullied by the cool kids (who were often in sports themselves, which might go far in explaining my reticence) I preferred to be off in my own make-believe world, where I was strong and powerful, a far cry from the chubby and bespectacled visage I encountered each morning.
Competitive group activities made me anxious. The thought of going to a game sounded like straight-up torture. This was tricky, given that I went to Minnetonka High School, where sports were the coin in terms of popularity and social leverage.
I would try to watch my brother play. I would try to watch the occasional Vikings game with my parents. But football was hard for me. I struggled to hold the teensy balls in my vision. I struggled with the crushing pileup of bodies. I struggled with the mad-faced coaches and all their yelling. I think I enjoyed snuggling between my parents more than anything else. Oh, and maybe the snacks. (I have always been very food-motivated, from childhood up to this morning).
Until one fateful day in 2013, when my partner and I met a nice fellow named Tommy Franklin at Soul Friday. He offered us tickets to a Lynx game.
Because this was a person we liked and wanted to connect with, we said yes. Not really at all because we knew about the Lynx or were basketball fans in any way … to me, the game was a secondary, possibly even a tertiary, reason for attending. My actual motivations looked more like this: 1. Bond with a possible new friend. 2. Check out the ladies. After all, the Lynx enjoy a solid fan base in the lesbian community. 3. Sports?
So you can imagine my surprise when our friend led us to courtside seats and these ladies started playing. Not only did I catch a drop of sweat from Simone Augustus (it did not suck, btw). I was watching these strong and talented women crush it on the court. These were the protagonists of my childhood fantasies. And it was so much better than I ever imagined. Skill, strength, beauty, competence: These ladies had it all, and I wanted into their club.
So began my journey into super fandom. It started innocently enough, with one or two games a season and some very committed cheering.
From there, I started buying "just one" Lynx tee to show my support on game day. This had the ancillary benefit of identifying myself to all the other fans I encountered. Suddenly taking the light rail into downtown Minneapolis became a whole new experience, with folks laughing and reminiscing about the games. "Minnesota Nice" was out the door after the big wins. People were laughing and connecting, even spontaneously high-fiving with strangers.
