FOMO

Most of social media is of no interest to me, except twitter, which occupies a special place in my heart. I recently had a friend ask me why Twitter, out of all the social media options, had secured my active participation. The answer is twofold. First, twitter allows people to follow my without me having to return the favor. Secondly, I’m able to stay connected to individuals who give me access to breaking / inside news. Not surprisingly, most of my favorite follows on twitter are those who the public would consider “basketball insiders”. Twitter gives me the opportunity to know that a super obscure player on the 76ers is being sent down to their D-League affiliate. The majority of the world doesn’t care, I do. Twitter gives me this access.

But I’m not naïve enough to think that Twitter (like all of social media) isn’t without fault. The downfalls are numerous. Chief among them is that users can say terrible things anonymously. Society sucks. Twitter gives the worst the opportunity to flex their internet muscles and say things online they would never say in person. But this isn’t only an issue on Twitter, all of social media falls prey to the worst aspects of human interaction. I usually try to keep my conversations on twitter inbounds. I don’t have time to go through my 5,000 + tweets, but if I did I would guess that I’ve never said anything seriously harmful to another. This doesn’t make me perfect, just intelligent enough to not put everything I might think online for public consumption.

My biggest downfall with Twitter is different, and generally doesn’t affect others. Twitter gives me FOMO (Fear of Missing Out), bad. Most people associate FOMO and social media with high schoolers on Facebook who determine that all of their friends are doing something they’re not. My FOMO is different. I get FOMO when it comes to consuming media. When I check my timeline and see multiple people commenting on the same thing I feel this compelling urge to immediately become a part of the conversation. Be it a sportingevent, political debate, an incredible televised gaffe, or that hot new show, I will go out of my way to investigate the situation. However, when I’m unable to participate in the public discourse or, view this “must see event” it gives me anxiety. It’s ridiculous. Twitter makes it seem like everyone is doing something that I’m not, like I’m the loser who finds out about the birthday party everyone was invited to, but me. My inability to consume all of the latest and greatest media shouldn’t make me feel like I could be missing a substantial part of history, but it does. Feeling left out isn’t unique to the social media age, Twitter just exacerbates the issue.

I picked up on the idiosyncrasy during Sunday’s this fall. I felt compelled, even obligated, to watch NFL football, regardless of the quality of the game. And if we’re being brutally honest this season has been hot garbage. I’d love to be able to say that this is based on important issues surrounding the game (concussions, domestic abuse etc…) or even questions of the integrity of the game (officiating, “deflategate” etc…). But in reality, the majority of games have been awful, even if the colossal Cowboys failure is removed from the equation. Yet I still recognized an innate need to sit on my couch and watch another “riveting” AFC South matchup between the Texans and Jaguars. But why, so that I can be informed if someone at the proverbial water cooler wants to BS about Bortles looking better this year? However, it’s not limited to sports, a bunch of people tweet about Sharknado and I feel the urge to spend my precious time watching Tara Reid give birth while inside a shark.

In reality, Twitter should ease my concern. Within seconds of anything interesting happening those on social media are more than willing to share this information with the world at large. Between Vines and GIF’s this information isn’t limited to the written word. So I should be able to not worry about “catching” anything because my timeline will give me a full summary of the event within minutes. Instead of needing to witness everything first hand, I should focus on just catching the cliff notes.

 I’ve tried to self-diagnose this overarching need for involvement and I think I’ve stumbled upon the answer.

I’m a maximizer by nature. This means that in all courses of life I must make the “best choice”, regardless of how long it takes me to contemplate all of the available options. It could be about large decisions, such as what career I should pursue, or as simple as which pair of jeans I should buy.  Either way I must make the optimal choice because a good choice will not suffice. So at night when I have my hour to spare I feel a need to make the “best” use of that time. Should I listen to that new podcast everyone is tweeting about? Or should I read that new book that is soaring up the bestsellers list? Trump is debating tonight, better catch that…. But then I’ll glance at my phone and see folks commenting on this awesome game that’s about to go into OT, maybe I should switch over to that?  I fall into this wormhole of analysis and I hope it sounds exhausting and lame, because it is. I have limited time, I should spend it optimally, and instead I take this limited time and spend chunks of it deciding how to use it.  Sounds like insanity to me. Twitter gives me access to more information than I can handle, and yet I’m addicted to it, crave it.

So what’s the best way to fix this? Should I swear off TV completely? Or should I deactivate my social media accounts? Perhaps I could blog about it? Maybe I should spend my time researching the best way to rid myself of FOMO. Or maybe I should realize that none of this stuff even matters because our “microwave” culture dictates that what is most important today will be obsolete tomorrow. Hopefully, my FOMO issue will follow this trend.

I Don't Blame Ya....

Traveling, in theory, always seems glamorous. In practice it hardly is. I was in Seattle all last week, and the city, when you actually get to see it, is quite beautiful. It’s situated right on the water with snowcapped mountains as a backdrop. The problem is that you hardly get to see the city. I was there all week and the sun shined for approximately 3 total hours of my stay. It’s no secret that it rains constantly, and I was prepared for that. I wasn’t prepared for how early it gets dark. Dawn doesn’t seem to occur till around 9am and dusk sets in at about 4pm. The sun doesn’t even stand a chance, it’s only got a 7 hour window.

Anyways…when people say they love to travel what they mean is, they love the idea of going to Paris, sitting in the shadow of the Eiffel tower munching on a baguette. 

In reality, traveling is catching a 6am flight to Kansas City, working for the day, having your return flight delayed for engine trouble, and eventually having to sit next to an obese man on the way home.  

What makes traveling such a chore is everything that happens between departure and arrival, airports are a beat down at best. Never once have I ever heard anyone say “You know what, I really enjoy the airport” If you were to be an airport enthusiast think about the things you would have to enjoy:

Crowds

Price gouging

Confusion

Long waits

Incompetent employees

Security checks

Terrible food

Angry & ignorant fellow passengers

Inherently, these things are the opposite of positive and wouldn’t ya know, I got the pleasure of experiencing every single one of them this past week. But let’s focus on the airport security aspect of traveling here for a sec.

I think we can all agree that airport security (TSA) personnel aren’t exactly the crème de la crème of society.  You don’t hear about many TSA job fairs on Ivy League campuses. TSA doesn’t attract the best because the job is probably even more awful than it seems. But their lack of an Ivy League education isn’t the only issue. TSA employees also seem perpetually annoyed, frustrated, and depressed. And I don’t think I can blame them, in fact we’re to blame.

I’m old enough to remember traveling prior to 9/11. And it’s no surprise that security is a bit more invasive these days.  Here’s a quick anecdote to prove it….The first flight I can remember was relatively short affair from Dallas to San Antonio, a trip for me and my brothers to visit my Dad for a long weekend. As the day of the flight approached my mother grew increasingly nervous about sticking her 3 boys on an hour long flight without parental supervision. At the time my little brother Jordan couldn’t have been older than a 1^st grader. He too was scared, which is reasonable for a little kid. Unfortunately, his fear only served to increase my mom’s anxiety, and a vicious cycle ensued.  In an attempt to ease the concerns of all involved my step father thought it would be a good idea to show up to the airport with my little brother and tour an airplane prior to its impending take off. So a few days before the trip my step dad and Jordan rolled up to the airport and within minutes was sitting in a cockpit chopping it up with some pilots, and receiving a first class tour of the plane. No ticket, no special arrangements, no security. They just showed up asked if they could take a peek at the 737 and were granted full access.

Safe to say this type of situation wouldn’t happen today, we live in a different world. Security is tighter because it has to be. September 11^th changed a lot of things, but nothing more than how airports and more specifically airport security operates. But guess what, not a whole lot has changed since the airports reopened after the attacks. These strict “guidelines” aren’t exactly brand new. However, somehow those with the financial means to purchase a ticket, the intelligence to find their way to the airport, and wherewithal to locate the security line are incapable of following simple directions. It’s literally unbelievable.

Think about the amount of effort you need to go through to not pass through security at your first attempt. In the general area of security there are signs in multiple languages accompanied by pictures that expressly describe everything that needs to come out of the bag. Furthermore, TSA typically stations an employee in the “bag check” area who is borderline yelling these same instructions on a loop. In my estimation, those who set off either of the metal detectors had to consciously decide they wanted to anger all of their fellow passengers. To top things off these rules are not new. Now I know not everyone has the “pleasure” of being a frequent flyer, but everyone has a general idea of the do’s and don’ts. Yet, without fail, each trip to the airport is met with a delay in security because some fool is surprised they’re not allowed to bring their pocket knife, or totally forgot take their laptop out of their bag. It’s insanity.

And as I was sitting in an incredibly long line this past week, I saw firsthand how terrible being an airport employee really could be. I was making my way through security when I heard the familiar line from a TSA employee about making sure all laptops were in a separate bin. But something was different, this guy was trying to spice things up a little bit. Interspersed between the informational announcements were little jokes to try and make the process a little less arduous.

For example, “make sure that all large electronics are taken out of your bag, laptops, gaming consoles, microwaves, death stars, copy machines etc.…” The line was long enough for me to hear this spiel a number of times.  Eventually I progressed to the point where it was my turn to actually partake in following the directions, and again the familiar voice rang out. But to everyone’s dismay the line came to a screeching halt. Someone had forgot to remove their lap top. This information was promptly relayed to the man barking the instructions. So once more he reminded my fellow travelers about the general rules of passing through security, and the process commenced. But within 30 seconds the line stopped again as another lap top was not correctly placed in a bin. The disappointment and defeat on the TSA employee’s face was unmistakable as his head lowered with an audible sigh. After a short pause he started making announcements again, but this time it was different. No upbeat tone, no little jokes, just pure information with a palpable tone of anger. I honestly could see the naivety depart as this man transformed from a greenhorn into the jaded and angry TSA personnel we all know and love.  And I can’t blame him.

These type of situations are everywhere, employees in industries or jobs where they are placed in jobs guaranteed to force them into being terrible, rude and dejected.  The front desk workers at the DMV, flight attendants, the Cafeteria Lunch Ladies from high school, TSA personnel. I usually just assume these people are terrible at their job because they lack the ability to do it successfully.

In retrospect, I’m willing to bet they’re terrible at their job because the people they deal with on a daily basis are impossibly difficult. Maybe those folks at the DMV appear to be jerks because they’ve had to repeat the same answer to the same driver’s license question every day for the past 2 years. It’s like Groundhog Day from hell.

Here is the part of the post where I’m probably obligated to remind everyone that each person should give 100% regardless of what it is they’re doing. And there are a lot of sports clichés I could use to elaborate to that end. But I’ll spare you. Partly because I know that if I was faced with a job as terrible, thankless and mind numbing as repeating TSA instructions I would be popping Prozac like I was Tony Soprano. I don’t blame these individuals for being easily frustrated or always one second away from punching a hole in a wall, their customers are morons.

Now don’t get it twisted, I’m not fixing to pivot into a plea for everyone to be “more understanding” or to not judge a man till you walk two moons in his moccasins or whatever… I might understand why (for the most part) TSA personnel are terrible at their job, and I don’t blame them for hating their life. But this doesn’t make my trip to the airport, or trek to the local DMV any less of a chore.  Instead I’m using this platform as a plea to these institutions to start separating their customers by IQ level. Think about the changes this could mean for all travelers. While the inept try to one up each other with inventive ways to not follow instructions, I can zoom through security. This will allow me quicker access to that $15 hamburger, and my middle seat between two obese men on my delayed departure.

Fandom

Let me begin by apologizing, because I haven’t blogged in a year. I’m sorry, I’ve simultaneously been busy and lazy. But it’s time to turn over a new leaf.

I will attempt to put out at least one post a week for the next 5 weeks. This decision to write is not because I have been sitting on a gold mine worth of material but because I occasionally get the itch to write. Plus I have a 5 week break from grad school so I have some mental capacity to spare.

I typically follow through with my goals, so there is a good chance that these posts will actually happen. However, there is also a chance I might get bored, or busy (watching NBA basketball, or the Sopranos, or Fargo, or Nathan for You, or some cooking show) and just not do it. I’m hoping that by announcing my intentions the world will keep me accountable to my stated goal. But then again I usually don’t care what other people say about me, so no promises.

Almost everyone enjoys sports, but not everyone would or should consider themselves a fan. There is a difference. See, my mom would tell you she likes sports. But what she really means is that she likes going to the local high school football games to chat with her friends and watch the band play. She is objectively, not a fan. “Fans” don’t enjoy sports. They don’t view games as a means to enjoy the ancillary aspects of the event. Enjoy isn’t the right word for a fan because it implies an inherent sense of joy, or happiness. Fans don’t enjoy sports because their happiness is bound directly to the outcome. 

Now, for the sake of the rest of this post, I’m going to clue you in on the tiers of my fandom. Here are my favorite teams, ranked by importance. This means that the team listed on top is obviously more important than the one listed below, and I would rather see the first team succeed over all the other teams listed.

(1)                  San Antonio Spurs

(2)                  Dallas Cowboys

(3)                  Baylor Football

(4)                  Baylor Basketball

(5)                  Atlanta Braves

So long story short, the San Antonio Spurs are my squad, and to be completely truthful the gap between the Spurs and every other team is monumental. This make sense, because basketball is my favorite sport, so naturally my favorite basketball team should and does garner the bulk of my attention. But to be brutally honest I probably care about this team a little too much. Not on like a tattoo predicting a championship, attend the NFL draft, comment on message boards level…those folks are insane.

My fandom is a slow burn, a consistent amount of constant attention. Like watched every Spurs game for a calendar year,  reads Spurs blogs daily, spend time on the ESPN trade machine creating fake trades to improve the team, constantly tweeting my thoughts on the team even though no one cares, fandom.

But this blog post isn’t my ode to that incredible basketball team.

It isn’t about my first memories of the Spurs at the Hemisphere Arena involving Terry Cummings,Willie Anderson and Vinny Del Negro (not exactly Hall of Famers).

Or about being obsessed with stuffed crust Pizza because the commercial featured my favorite player.

Or being devastated after that same player won MVP and then got torched in the playoffs.

Nor is it about the All-Star game at the terrible Alamodome.

Or about how the trajectory of the entire franchise changed upon winning the draft lottery and the right to pick a center from Wake Forest.

It’s not about the 15 straight years (and counting) of 50 plus winning seasons, the 5 championships or some of the most beautiful basketball ever seen in the NBA

It’s an examination about why I care so much about a bunch of tall sweaty men I’ve never met and their ability to throw an orange sphere through a metal circle.

As with most “fans” I didn’t choose the Spurs, the Spurs chose me. This is how most fandom begins. I spent my formative “fan years” living in San Antonio which has exactly one professional sports team (if you don’t count the indoor minor league hockey team…. Go Iguanas). 95% percent of my extended family lives in San Antonio and I’m down there for every conceivable holiday or important occasion. 99 % of my family (save my older brother, he likes the Mavs, more on him in a sec), are Spurs’ fans, my 85 year old grandma loves them, my cousins are as obsessed as I am. My Dad (a huge fan) refuses to watch any game that matters because he thinks he’s bad luck. There was no choice, bleeding silver and black was unavoidable.

Let me take a moment to state something you’re probably doubting, I fully realize that the time, energy, and money I spend on the Spurs has zero impact on the team. I’m also aware there are far more important pursuits. I’m a fan, not an idiot. Yes I’m aware that if I spent that time, energy, and money on sheltering abused animals, or clothing the homeless we’d all be better off. But take a second and think about your favorite hobby, think you could make a difference in the world if you put some of that time/energy/money to some charitable pursuit? Please, spare me that rhetoric.

I’m also aware that if I stopped being a fan tomorrow, the team would still exist, there material successes wouldn’t be effected and the players wouldn’t even notice. I obviously don’t cheer for this team because I believe the team needs me to, or because they added my favorite player. I don’t support the Spurs because I feel like I can make a difference.

When you break it down to the most basic level I cheer for laundry, I’m logical enough to realize this. In the case of the Spurs I cheer for a bunch of dudes because they are wearing shorts with a matching black and silver tank top that is adorned with a cowboy accessory.

Now, granted there are exceptions but it generally comes down to the name on the front, not on the back. We’re tied to organizations not individuals. That’s why fans are crazy. Someone who they have no relationship with puts on the right colored gear and we cheer for them like family. It’s ridiculous. Why do you think Cowboy fans can cheer for Greg Hardy? Most would Cowboys fans would objectively tell you he’s a terrible person, but he puts on a blue star and these same people cheer him like he’s Christ entering Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.

The fact is that when you’re a “fan” you can’t quit your team, it’s an addiction.  Now some people cherry pick their favorite teams (I did this with baseball). I generally don’t have an issue with this as long as you are consistent. Quick shout out to my PaPa who conveniently chooses the most successful teams (recently Cavs, Alabama etc...) and supports them.  My older brother is a better version one of these “choosers.” He resisted any favorite team of the family and forged his own path, a borderline unforgiveable offense. He’s a Packer, Mavs, UT, Cubs fan. At a young age he selected his favorite teams, and has stuck with them through thick and thin. His connection to these teams although strong, will never get to my level (which might be a positive thing) It can’t. 

Choice implies the ability to change, to decide to choose again. Being born into fandom is like being born into a family, while choosing a team is the equivalent of marrying into a family. Both are supposed to be forever, but only one of them comes with an (regretful, painful, terrible idea) escape clause. Even if my parents are awful I can’t change it. And that’s the rub, because often being a fan does suck.

The “highs” of being a sports fan are tough to top.  Some of my fondest memories revolve around the sports championships of my favorite teams (did I mention the Spurs have 5?).

My dad getting me out of bed to finish watching the Cowboys win the Super Bowl with him in 1993.

Sitting by myself in the back room at my uncle’s lake house in 1999 to see Avery Johnson nail that game winning jumper.

Watching the Spurs clinch the 2014 finals (after coming so close in 2013) with my brother on Father’s day and calling my Dad to celebrate.

But ask me how I felt the next day, and I go blank. I mean I’m sure I was happy, that I was excited and proud, but those feelings were fleeting at best.  I remember some details, but they fade in time. The lows of being a fan are a different story, the tough losses are eternal.

Ask me about Derek Fisher’s .4 second shot and I can tell you everything, about the plays before where I was, and what my Dad said right before he shot it ( I believe his “I’m not watching the games stance started after this game)

Ask me about Ginobili’s and 1 foul on Dirk in game 7 of the 2006 Western Finals and I can tell you intricate details about the entire series, who I was with, what seat I was in, and how all my Mavs fan friends rubbed it in for weeks.

The worst was Ray Allen’s corner 3 in game 6 of the 2013 finals.  I can describe how my uncle predicted we’d lose before Kawhi even missed the free throw, about the general malaise in San Antonio after the game, about how I called my Dad and told him we were about to win then being beyond devastated when we lost.

These losses stick with you, they eat at you. They never go away. These losses incited anger and frustration. I’ve destroyed property, loss sleep and said things I’d be embarrassed to tell my mom about. Are the wins worth all this trouble? The quick answer is yes, because hope springs eternal.

Granted the Spurs are tough to complain about, they’ve been the class of the league for almost 2 decades and routinely top ESPN’s “franchise rankings” so as a fan I’ve been #blessed.

But what about my second favorite team, the Cowboys. They won 3 Super Bowls before I reached puberty but I’ve watched them toil in mediocrity and stupidity since. They’re currently led by an incompetent GM and meddlesome owner (they happen to be the same person) yet still, my fandom continues. I still watch games, still get fooled into believing they have a chance to win every game. Nothing is too egregious to keep me from supporting them. Blow the draft on a yearly basis? I’m still in. Sign over the hill free agents to bloated contracts? I’ll still buy the merchandise. Routinely blow late leads? I’ll still pour over the schedule to see if the playoffs are even a remote possibility. You’d think I’d be so beaten down that I’d consider taking my fandom elsewhere. But that’s impossible.

So why do we do it? Why are any of us fans?

I know these are going to sound ridiculous but stick with me here…

Part of it is a need for belonging, to be connected to something that is bigger than ourselves. Everyone has a desire to be a part of something to support or believe in something that is larger than themselves, to belong to a group. Anytime I meet a Spurs fan in DFW we have an instant connection, something we can talk about. We take pride in being in exile together, relish the opportunity to band together and discuss how superior the Spurs are then the Mavs. What about when you discover that someone else enjoys your favorite hobby, do you not enjoy discussing it with them? I’ve met countless people because I was wearing a Baylor shirt. This isn’t because they think green and gold is aesthetically pleasing, it’s because they want to talk about how they think Baylor is going to do this Saturday.  Think about the pronouns fans use to talk about their teams, not them or they, but us and we. True fans feel that they are a part of what’s going on.

Part of it is we need a distraction from the things of this life. Story after story came out about how the Saints helped New Orleans citizens recover from Katrina. Now I think some of that was overblown (no pun intended) but there is no doubt that in the face of tragedy a 3 hour release has intrinsic benefit.  But it doesn’t have to be something serious, it can be as simple as having an event to look forward to this Saturday afternoon. Something to make plans around that can help the monotony of (cubicle) life pass by. I’ll spend weeks looking forward to a marquee game for the Spurs. I’ll block it off on my schedule, and make sure nothing gets in the way.

But most importantly we’re fans because the highs (as fleeting as the might be) and the prospect they might come again entice us to hold on. We want the opportunity to take pride in being able to say “I never gave up on this team” or to proudly boast “I always believed”. This is reason enough to continue. We’re addicted. I’ll still tune into Cowboys games because I’m a sucker and always will be. Even when the Spurs eventually (God I hope this doesn’t happen) slide back into mediocrity, will still have my support.

Or we might all just be insane. Either way, I’m in. Now if you will excuse me I’m late for a date with Wednesday night’s Spurs vs Milwaukee Bucks game that is saved on my DVR.