A House Rose Ginsberg
Divided
People tend to be surprised when they find out I follow professional hockey. I suppose it’s because, as an artsy, feminist, theater-loving lady, I don’t precisely fit the profile of the stereotypical sports fan. But I am a Philadelphia Flyers fan to my bones, so no one who follows pro hockey—or any sports team with a major rivalry—will be shocked when I say that attending a Flyers/Rangers game in New York just a few days ago was an intense experience. This wasn’t the first time I’d shown up at Madison Square Garden to cheer on the visiting team, properly decked out in Flyers t-shirt, jersey, scarf, and even necklace. My boyfriend is a devoted Rangers fan (yes, we’re clearly remarkably mature to be able to bridge this deep divide and also teasing each other is fun) and we’d had great times attending games together in past seasons. I’d felt sneakily subversive and yet protected, infiltrating enemy territory on the arm of one of their own. Our regular seats were surrounded by longstanding acquaintances of his who greeted me without looking (very) askance at the logo on my jersey, and I was careful to be a respectful, though enthusiastic, visitor. I didn’t come into their house to make trouble. We were all there to enjoy the game. This time, however, whether due to pent-up energy from the lockout that had canceled half the season or just the redesigned sections of the newly renovated arena, the atmosphere was radically different. We were no longer seated with familiar faces and I overheard some startlingly racist and sexist conversations. The ribbing of opposing players and fans was not all in good fun. The man seated behind me accidentally smacked me on the shoulder and didn’t apologize—I don’t think he even noticed. As we left after the game, two guys behind me heckled a couple in Flyers T-shirts for the entire duration of a slow walk down four levels of stalled escalators. Their insults were loud, personal, and aggressive, and continued until they were out of earshot. My jersey hidden under my coat, I listened in silence, dying to respond but wary of causing trouble or becoming a target. In the end, I kept my mouth shut until I reached the safety of the train and could vent my fury to my boyfriend. I know that the decision not to engage with either the racism or the hostility around me was smart. Being a woman, even a five-foot-tall woman, will not
necessarily prevent some drunk bro from getting in my face, especially when I’m wearing the rival team’s colors. I don’t know for sure that I would have been in any danger, but I felt threatened enough to be careful. All the same, I was furious at myself later for not speaking up, for not defending my fellow Flyers fans. I had allowed those jerks to get away with their awful behavior without even the smallest of consequences. I also felt betrayed by my fellow hockey fans, which I discovered is worse than feeling let down by your team. We were all supposed to be there to enjoy the game together, but instead of camaraderie—even competitive camaraderie—I saw baiting, attacking, and contempt. There was no fun in it. It was just mean. I’d never felt that way in an audience before, at any kind of event. I’ve seen bored and restless theater patrons, at productions I’ve created and productions I’ve attended. I’ve heard Patti LuPone yell at an audience member for illegally recording her performance and I’ve given death stares to a fellow playgoer for allowing his cell phone to ring at the quietest, most dramatic moment of Sweeney Todd. But I’ve never seen an audience so divided against itself that what was meant to be enjoyable competition became ugly. I’ve seen shows disappoint audiences, but I’d never seen an audience ruin a show. Audiences have power. When we go to see a live performance, whether it’s a game, a play, a concert, or anything else, we don’t go just to see the live spectacle. We go to connect with a large group of people who all want to have that particular experience. The audience becomes a community based on their shared interest, and that community shapes the experience as much as the performers do. The space is crowded, emotions run high, and everyone is a part of the event. Each of us has the potential to salvage or spoil the enjoyment of the person sitting next to us. We owe it to each other and to our community to be generous. #dontbeadick