How Fantasy Leagues Are Killing Fandom

On a frigid Monday evening this January—in the midst of a Raptors season that has forced long-suffering fans to grapple with unfamiliar feelings of optimism and even pride—I went down to the Air Canada Centre with a couple of friends to watch the team take on the Detroit Pistons.

The seats belonged to my friend Dave, an avid fan and long-time season-ticket holder. Dave lived through the Vince Carter heartbreak and the Bargnani Experience. He witnessed a garish parade of uniforms, cheered for journeymen like Steve Novak and Jason Kapono, and spent countless evenings in the ACC when the only thing worth clapping for was the promise of free promotional pizza. In other words, he’s more than earned the right to relish this season. He should have been enjoying himself.

Instead, as we watched the Raptors run out to a big first half lead, Dave’s mind was on contracts. “Now’s the time to trade Terrence Ross,” he said, sipping his beer. “He’s still on a rookie contract and he’s got some value.”

At that precise moment, the young small forward streaked down the court, leapt high through the air to catch a Kyle Lowry pass above the rim, and slammed the ball home. It was the kind of athletic feat that you hope for from a night at the arena—when years of training and a freakish natural ability conspire to create a moment of breathtaking kinetic beauty. We waited a moment for the cheering to subside. “Now’s a good time to make a move,” Dave said. I nodded vigorously. “He’s a good asset.”

This is, of course, totally sound logic. But that didn’t make the contrast less striking. There we were—watching a man soar through the air like a god—and all we could think about was possible trade value.

It’s a way of thinking that seems more and more prevalent. Today, being a sports fan increasingly feels like being a fan of a business—an exercise in corporate loyalty more than anything else. It means being familiar with salary caps and having an opinion on restricted versus unrestricted free-agency. After a trade is made or a player is signed, our first impulse is to evaluate whether or not the deal is good value, as if the pocketbook of some faceless cable provider or oil baron billionaire should be our primary concern. Players aren’t heroes, or even individuals. They’re assets and trade chips—tools to be used in the real game being played out in boardrooms and corporate head offices far from the court.