Kenneth Knepper: A true sports fan nurtured to existence

Televised football begins this week, which means a couple things: I won’t be getting around to that list of honey-do projects posted on the refrigerator anytime soon, and my cell phone will be someplace other than at my side for the next several weekends.

Around my house, football season actually begins with the annual equipment checkout for my son’s little league team.

I never participated in football as a child because my parents thought my physique was more appropriately suited for a hobby of writing.

This caused some tedious moments years later when my son asked me to place pads inside his football pants.

But, thanks to an extensive amount of time invested in front of a television, today I’m comfortable sizing him for shoulder pads and helmet, and I even helped him study this year’s play book.

Overall, I feel I’m nearing coaching capacity — even if it is just the armchair variety.

Most importantly, however, I’ve learned to be a real fan — one of those people who watches hundreds of games for the enjoyment of the sport —and because I really don’t want to do those honey-do projects, anyway.

I base this observation on a number of specifics:

• Every game counts — even in the preseason.  The true sports fan could care less if a game contributes to a team’s win/loss record. He is in it for the long haul — collecting valuable statistics that will “wow” friends and relatives later in the season.

• Reserved seating. A true fan has a “special” perch for watching a game and never, ever leaves that spot until there is a stop in the action. This includes potty breaks, which undoubtedly will lead to future medical issues for me.

• Documented medical depression. Scientists have discovered a correlation between sports fans enduring a game loss and the influence on work productivity. That should provide a “real” fan a good excuse for missing a day at the office every Monday through football season.  I’m already feeling some pain just because sports analysts already have my team finishing a distant last.

• Fan apparel. I own roughly 36 shirts of my favorite college in various styles, from casual to dressy. As best I can figure, I have spent enough on them to purchase one wing of the athletic department. However, the coaches still won’t invite me to dinner. In addition, I have invested in intergenerational items — such as the time when I placed my infant son in college wear, so we could shoot several photos before he drooled down the front of the shirt and covered up the mascot.

• Descriptive phrases when talking about a team. Personally, I have not done this, but friends sometimes associate themselves as an integral part of a team, almost as if they were suited up and standing on the sideline. The team name is replaced by saying words, like, “we.”  “We would have whipped that team, had it not been for failing to score on the last 11 possessions.” OK … I have done this, but I’m trying to do better.

• Highway warriors. This includes fans waving flags of their favorite teams from the windows of their cars. It’s as though each vehicle is a tiny army going into battle as ticket holders descend on a stadium parking lot.

Perhaps the most influential person in helping me become a true sports fan was my father, however.

Nothing said, “sit down and enjoy a game with me, son,” like the times when I stood in the living room teasing my sister.

“*)$#$)(!&*@$!!  Sit down and be quiet. I’m trying to watch the game,” he would tell me in an edgy, but fatherly, voice.

I wonder if a similar response would work when my wife comes into the family room next weekend, holding my pending honey-do list.

After all, I’m only trying to help her become a fan.

Ken Knepper is publisher of The Newton Kansan and The McPherson Sentinel. He can be contacted at kenneth.knepper@thekansan.com.