Consuming Sport: Fans, Sport and Culture

Consuming Sport Consuming Sport offers a detailed consideration of how sport is experienced and engaged with in the ev...

Author: Garry Crawford

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Consuming Sport

Consuming Sport offers a detailed consideration of how sport is experienced and engaged with in the everyday lives, social networks and consumer patterns of its followers. It examines the processes of becoming a sport fan, and the social and moral career that supporters follow as their involvement develops over a lifecourse. It argues that while for many people sport matters, for many more, it does not. Though for some, sport is signi®cant in shaping their social and cultural identity, it is often consumed and experienced by others in quite mundane and everyday ways, through the media images that surround us, conversations overheard and in the clothing of people we pass by. As well as developing a new theory of sport fandom, the book links this discussion to wider debates on audiences, fan cultures and consumer practices. The text argues that for far too long consideration of sport fans has focused on exceptional forms of support ignoring the myriad ways in which sport can be experienced and consumed in everyday life. Garry Crawford is a Senior Lecturer in Social and Cultural Studies in Sport at Shef®eld Hallam University, UK.

Consuming Sport Fans, sport and culture

Garry Crawford

First published 2004 by Routledge 11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 29 West 35th Street, New York, NY 10001 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005 “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.”

& 2004 Garry Crawford All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Every effort has been made to ensure that the advice and information in this book is true and accurate at the time of going to press. However, neither the publisher nor the author can accept any legal responsibility or liability for any errors or omissions that may be made. In the case of drug administration, any medical procedure or the use of technical equipment mentioned within this book, you are strongly advised to consult the manufacturer's guidelines. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN 0-203-49392-3 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-57177-0 (Adobe eReader Format) ISBN 0±415±28890±8 (hbk) ISBN 0±415±28891±6 (pbk)

For my Mom and Dad, thank you for always being there.

Contents

Preface Acknowledgements PART I

1 Introduction PART II

Studying sport fans

ix xi 1 3

17

2 Conceptualizing sport fans

19

3 Sport fan communities

52

PART III

The sport venue

63

4 The meaning of the contemporary sport venue

65

5 Consumption, spectacle and performance

77

6 Social control and supporter violence

89

PART IV

Everyday life 7 Sport fans and everyday life

103 105

viii

Contents

8 Consumer goods

112

9 Mass media and new media technologies

130

PART V

155

10 Conclusion

157

Notes References Index

161 164 178

Preface

This book has arisen out of the ideas and thoughts developed in my doctoral thesis. However, this is not the book of the PhD. My doctoral thesis consisted speci®cally of an ethnographic analysis of the followers of one particular sport team: the British ice hockey team Manchester Storm1 (Crawford 2000). British ice hockey in the late 1990s presented a signi®cant case for understanding the contemporary nature of sport fans. Ice hockey is a sport with little (recent) history or tradition in Britain, which in the early 1990s was reinvented and marketed towards a more af¯uent `family-based' audience (see O'Brien 1998). It was sold to this audience as ànother show . . . with [a] Disney, concert mentality', where the spectators were given an èntertainment package' ± to quote the (then) Marketing Director of the Manchester Storm (Crawford 2003). This presented a signi®cant example of the changing nature of contemporary sport, and how a sport, stripped of heritage, tradition and the importance of locality2, could be sold alongside other forms of `family entertainment' such as cinemas and theme parks. British ice hockey constitutes an advanced example of the globalization, commercialization and changing nature of sport, and it would have been easy to damn the new followers of this sport as `cultural dopes' (Gar®nkel 1967) and ìnauthentic' in their patterns of support ± as had already been done by many longstanding ice hockey fans (Sluyter 1996). However, three years of research on this particular supporter base revealed a far more complex picture of the relationship between these fans and the sport than many macro-process theories, such as those of globalization, commonly allow for. In particular, this sport was consumed, utilized and experienced in the supporters' everyday lives in many different and complex ways. This support formed the basis of social interactions, networks and performances, and was the foundation of both social distinctions and community as well as a constituent part of many fans' social identities. Though the nature of British ice hockey has witnessed rapid change and redevelopment over the past decade or so, it has continued to occupy an important role in the everyday lives of its followers. However, far too often research and discussions of the contemporary nature of sport have focused upon its changing nature and macro-processes, with little interest or concern for patterns of continuity and how sport is received and constructed in the everyday lives of

x

Preface

its followers. Put simply, though many studies of contemporary sport tell us what fans get, they do not tell us what they then do with this. Though this book does on occasion draw on data gathered from my own research on British ice hockey fans, this book expands these debates and discussion beyond this limited scope, drawing on a range of secondary sources, literature and data, to provide a much wider picture of the contemporary nature of sport fans. Inevitably, relying on secondary material published in English and available in the UK means that the majority of these data and examples are predominantly either British or North American. However, it is my assertion that many of the arguments set out in this book could be applied (to a greater or lesser extent) to the followers of other sports in other late-capitalist societies. A second consequence of relying on existing data and literature on sport fans is that the vast majority of this has been written on the followers of male mass spectator sports 3. Though numerous authors have highlighted that more women are now regularly attending and following sport than probably ever before (see Wann et al. 2001), it is apparent that the majority of these are still attending and following sports dominated by male participation. However, this inevitable focus on male mass spectator sports does not mean that gender is irrelevant to this debate, and in many ways is quite fundamental to understanding both the changing nature and continuity within the contemporary nature of sport fan culture4. Garry Crawford

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Brian Longhurst who supervised my original doctoral thesis, and helped me develop many of the ideas that form the foundation of this book. Graeme Gilloch, Greg Smith and (the late) Ian Taylor for the advice and encouragement they gave me throughout my PhD, and also a big thank you to Victoria Gosling and Brian Longhurst for reading and commenting on an earlier draft of this book. I would also like to thank Jason Rutter for his wisdom and advice on digital gaming, and Stephen Lees for providing me with probably the best quote in the book. Thank you to everyone in Sociology at Salford University, the Sport Division at Shef®eld Hallam, all my original participants in my doctorial research, and Garton Hawkins who inspired me to become a sociologist. Thank you to those who matter most, all of my family and friends, who put up with me throughout my PhD and are still with me. To my brothers and their families. To my mother and father, who have been a constant support and encouragement throughout my life, I owe you everything and I dedicate this book to you. And ®nally, thank you to Victoria Gosling who has offered me advice and support throughout both my PhD and the writing of this book, and has always been there for me when I needed her most ± I really do owe you more than I could ever repay. The author and publishers wish to thank Sociology for permission to reproduce material in chapter two of this book from the paper `The career of the sport supporter: the case of the Manchester Storm', May 2003, 37 (2), 219±237.

Part I

1

Introduction

This is a book about sport fans1. If, for a moment, we adopt the (theoretical) model that a cultural product involves three stages or components, those of production, text and audience, which is frequently applied to many cultural studies (for instance, Longhurst 1995), then the focus of this book is primarily placed upon the third of these components ± the audience. However, the argument advocated within this book is that this division between the `parts' of a cultural product (be that music, television or sport) is never as clear-cut as this model would appear to suggest. Audiences within many cultural studies have frequently been viewed as the end-point or even as a by-product of processes of cultural production, and hence, are largely irrelevant compared with the central importance of these processes and the text itself. However, what I wish to argue in this book is that consumers of cultural products may also be crucial in the production of these and even constitute part of the text itself. For instance, many sport supporters will frequently produce or contribute to Internet sites, fanzines and radio discussions, which are then consumed by others. Furthermore, it is sport fans themselves who help create the atmosphere at `live' sport venues, constituting a major part of the text that is viewed and consumed by other audience members; both in the `live' venue and via mass media sources. It is also the consumers of cultural products, such as sporting events, who help give these their meaning and social importance, through their conversations, patterns of consumption and social interaction. However, it is the meanings and sensibilities of fans that are often overlooked in discussions of sport; as White and Wilson (1999: 259) write: `many sociological questions remain unanswered, especially those related to the meanings that social groups place on sport spectatorship in general or on different sports in particular'. Hence, this book focuses speci®cally on the meanings, experiences and consumer patterns of contemporary sport fans. To say that this book is primarily concerned with acts of consumption does not mean that this book is solely about the use of material goods, such as replica team jerseys, though these inevitably constitute part of this discussion. Lury (1996: 1) de®nes consumer culture as part of a wider material culture, which she uses to refer to a `person±thing' relationship. However, I wish to use the term consumption in a much looser sense than this, and suggest that not all acts of

4

Part I

consumption necessarily involve material goods. For instance, consumption can also involve `person±person' relationships, where individuals may observe and `consume' the actions and performances of others, such as in watching a sporting event. This is evident in the work of Holt (1995) who uses the actions and sentiments of baseball fans attending Wrigley Field as illustrative of patterns of consumer behaviour. It is also important to recognize that not all fan activity directly involves acts of consumption. For instance, Anthony Cohen (1985: 98) suggests that it is primarily in the thoughts and minds of members of a community, and not necessarily its structures and their behaviour that its culture exists. Much of what makes someone a fan is what is located within her or his personal identity, memories, thoughts and social interactions. However, much of this will relate, either directly or indirectly, to acts of consumption. For instance, the memories, thoughts and conversations of sport fans will often relate to events people have attended, games they have seen on television, consumer goods they have bought or seen, and similar acts of consumption. Hence, it is my assertion that though not all fan related activities can be seen as directly involving acts of consumption, being a fan is primarily a consumer act and hence fans can be seen ®rst and foremost as consumers2. This is particularly apparent if we follow the line of argument set out by Bauman (1998a), amongst others, that in late-capitalist societies, such as the UK, consumption has become of central importance. The social signi®cance of consumption has been an important feature of discussions of social relations for over a century. For instance, Miles (1998) indicates that though it was production that was the chief concern of much of Marx's work, in his discussion of `commodi®cation' 3, Marx (1970 [1864]) provides one of the founding blocks in the theoretical understanding of how products acquire an exchange-value above and beyond their use-value. Furthermore, Veblen in 1899 considered the consumer patterns of the emergent American nouveaux riches of the late nineteenth century, while Simmel (1990 [1907]) as well as his consideration of the importance of monetary-exchange, presented a signi®cant perspective on the use of consumption and fashion within everyday life and as an expression and marker of social ìndividuality'. However, Bauman suggests òur' (contemporary Western late-capitalist) society has witnessed a signi®cant shift towards the primacy of consumption within social relations. Bauman (1998a: 26) argues that where all prior societies have been primarily producer societies (before an individual could fully participate in society, they had to be producers or at least part of the production process), in òur' society an individual `needs to be a consumer ®rst, before one can think of becoming anything in particular'. Likewise, the role and location of consumption has become an increasingly signi®cant characteristic (particularly for fans and followers) of contemporary sport within late-modern societies. As Coakley (1994: 303) writes: `throughout history sport has always been used as a form of entertainment. However, sports

Introduction

5

have never been so heavily packaged, promoted, presented and played as commercial products as they are today.' Giulianotti (2002) suggests that sport has witnessed an increased commodi®cation (particularly in Britain and North America) since the 1960s. In particular, Giulianotti cites the examples of how Taylor (1971) and Critcher (1979) consider the commodi®cation and commercialization of association football in Britain in the 1960s and how Alt (1983: 100) likewise discusses North American sport fans' increasing tendency to `shop around the franchise marketplace' for more successful teams (cited in Giulianotti 2002: 28). However, Giulianotti suggests that since the late-1980s sport (and in particular he cites the example of association football) has witnessed a much more rapid commercialization and (what he refers to as) a `hypercommodi®cation': . . . this hypercommodi®cation has been driven by the extraordinary and different volumes of capital that have entered the game [association football] from entirely new sources: satellite and pay-per-view television networks, Internet and telecommunications corporations, transnational sports equipment manufacturers, public relations companies, and the major stock markets through the sale of club equity (ibid.: 29). Giulianotti (ibid.) suggests that this rapid `hypercommodi®cation' has been largely brought about by shifts within the nature of late-capitalist society and in particular moves towards `the contemporary condition of ``disorganized capitalism'' ' ± a term he borrows from Lash and Urry (1987). Lash and Urry (1987: 2) suggest that Marx and Engels set out an extremely useful consideration of organized capitalism in the `Manifesto of the Communist Party' that emerged towards the end of the nineteenth century in many Western societies. However, Lash and Urry argue that recently there has been a steady move towards disorganized capitalism characterized by transformations of time, space, economics and culture. This move to disorganized capitalism, Lash and Urry (1987: 5±7) argue, has been caused and is characterized by certain key developments in the nature of capitalist societies. These can be summarized as a decline in primary and secondary industries and industrial cities coupled with a move towards a greater emphasis on the tertiary (service) sector. Linked to this has been a decline in the `traditional' working classes, and a rapid growth in a more af¯uent (white collar, service sector) working class. This period of change has also witnessed a decline in the collective bargaining power of the working classes, as traditional communities and trade unions fragment and collapse. In particular, Lash and Urry (1987) suggest that the most signi®cant change within the social hierarchies is the rapid growth of the service class (and decline of the traditional working class) in most capitalist Western societies from the 1960s onwards. As they state:

6

Part I Old-style occupational communities have been undermined by the atomization of the worker; by higher wages and consumerism; by reduced work time; by individual mobility and changed residence patterns; and by the increased availability of highly differentiated consumer goods (1987: 228).

The service class, Lash and Urry argue, is a class not of producers but of consumers. Individual identities become more ¯uid, less ®xed and increasingly based upon `life-styles' ± purchased ready-made through the `diverse myriad' of consumer products and mass media sources. Popular culture for Lash and Urry becomes less class based and increasingly has `radical anti-hierarchical values' and ànti-authoritarian popularism' (1987: 15). The argument that identities become increasingly bought ready-made is considered further (and largely critiqued) in chapter eight, however Lash and Urry (amongst others) are useful in that they highlight the changing nature of contemporary society and the increased importance of patterns of consumption. Hence, this book is concerned with the changing nature of society and primarily the changing nature of sport fans, their communities and cultures. However, it is also about continuity as well as change. In 1995 Wann and Hamlet made the (now frequently cited) observation that only around four per cent of all sport sociology and psychology focuses on sport fans. Though over the past few years the volume of research on fans has increased signi®cantly, these discussions still continue to be primarily focused upon those (relatively few) fans who regularly attend `live' sporting events ± leaving largely ignored the myriad of ways fans can connect with sport via mass media sources, social interactions, memory and recall, in their everyday lives. There has also been a tendency to focus academic discussion on top-down macro-processes of change, such as processes of globalization and commercialization. These discussions tend to overlook aspects of continuity in the everyday lived experiences of fans and the importance and location of sport in social formations. This book asserts that it is important to understand fan culture from the perspective of the everyday lived experiences, social interactions and identities of the fans themselves, as this affords insight into both the changes and continuities within these cultures. This book, then, is primarily about the agency of fans, however, it recognizes that to a large degree this agency will be shaped by the continued importance of structures in people's lives, such as gender, ethnicity and social class. However, before progressing further, it is important at this stage to recognize some of the key developments that have occurred within contemporary sport.

The changing nature of sport In line with wider changes within late-capitalist societies, the nature of sport (being a signi®cant and constituent part of most contemporary societies) has likewise witnessed considerable change and development in recent decades.

Introduction

7

In many respects the assertion that the nature of contemporary sport is changing is largely a truism, as sport throughout all history in all societies (as with all societies themselves) has continued to change and develop in character, organization and social importance. Likewise, it would be mistaken to suggest that it is only within late-capitalist societies that sport has involved acts of consumption. For instance, if we accept sport spectating as a form of consumption (see later in this chapter), this has been present at most organized sports throughout history. However, authors such as Giulianotti (2002) argue that many sports in contemporary late-capitalist societies have witnessed a rapid process of `hypercommodi®cation' resulting in the increased importance of commerce and consumerism within these. It is suggested that the contemporary relationship between sport and its followers has been most notably affected by the interrelated processes of increased involvement of big businesses in the running and organization of sport, the importance and in¯uence of the mass media, processes of globalization, and more generally the changing nature of audiences in latecapitalist society ± and it is to each of these I now turn. First, Horne et al. (1999: 267) suggest that much of sports' increased commercialization has been brought about by the involvement of òpportunist and maverick entrepreneurs' in the organization and running of sport. In particular, they suggest business entrepreneurs such as Jack Kramer, Kerry Packer, Mark McCormack, Horst Dassler and Rupert Murdoch have been `key ®gures in this process' of sports' commercialization (ibid.). It was business people such as these who from the late 1970s onwards began to see the business opportunities and economic potential in professional sport around the world. It was Kramer who `sowed the seeds' for the professionalization of tennis, McCormak who helped increase the potential earning power of golf 's top players, and Packer who facilitated changes in the nature of world cricket such as the introduction of coloured clothing and ¯ood-lit matches. Furthermore, Dassler made many of the world's sport governing bodies, such as the IOC and FIFA, increasingly aware of marketing, television and sponsorship opportunities, and Murdock and his multinational telecommunications company Sky brought about the transformation of association football and rugby league in England in the 1990s (ibid.). What fuelled (and often went hand-in-hand with) this increased involvement of business entrepreneurs in world sport was the ever-growing relationship between sport and the mass media. Sport and the mass media have had an extremely long relationship stretching back for many centuries. For instance, Rowe (1999: 30) suggests that the reporting of cricket was an important part of London's newspapers `well before 1750'. Even the relationship between television and sport is one that has existed for well over half a century, with the BBC broadcasting the world's ®rst `live' television pictures of a soccer match in April 1938, and the launch of their ®rst sport programme to have a fulltime production team, Sportsview, in 1954 (Barnett 1990). However, for much of the twentieth century the relationship between sport and the mass media,

8

Part I

and in particular television, was an uneasy one. For instance, in England association football resisted the `live' coverage of football games up until 1983, and it was only due to escalating costs coupled with declining gates that the potential of income from sponsorship and television rights became too tempting for the games' ruling bodies to refuse any longer (Whannel 1992). However, since the late 1980s this association between sport and the mass media has become exceptionally strong as sport has increasingly recognized the potential of the mass media not only to pay large sums of money to cover sport but also the increased sponsorship opportunities this has allowed. This has enabled sponsors to reach a far greater audience, and has hence increased their willingness to invest heavily in sport. As Coakley (1994: 305) writes: `the media are closely associated with the commercialization of sports. They provide needed publicity and create and sustain spectator interest among large numbers of people. In the past, newspapers and radio did this job, but today television has the greatest effect on spectator involvement'. In recent years television has increasingly drawn other cultural and leisure pursuits, including sport, into its domain ± turning other forms of entertainment into a media spectacle (Whannel and Williams 1993: 2). It is evident that in Western (if arguably not global) societies, television has become an integral part of sport's presentation, contributing to the growth and popularity of many modern sports, and for many people (and for most of the time) sport is television sport (Whannel 1992: 1±3). In particular, Kellner (2001: 37) suggests that television has transformed sport into a `media extravaganza'; transforming it into à spectacle that sells the values, products, celebrities, and institutions of the media and consumer society' (ibid.: 38). Again, this relationship and transformation of sport can be tied to wider developments in the nature of latecapitalist societies, as sport (like many other aspects of `disorganized capitalism') becomes ever more based around acts of consumption and increasingly transformed into a media package. As Kellner (ibid.: 39) continues his argument: . . . the media are becoming ever more technologically dazzling and are playing an increasingly central role in everyday life. Under the in¯uence of a postmodern image culture, seductive spectacles fascinate the denizens of the media and consumer society and involve them in the semiotics of a new world of entertainment. Moreover, the strengthening of the af®liation between sport and television, to a large degree, has been brought about by rapid changes and developments in television related technologies, and in particular, the rise in cable, satellite and now digital television. The proliferation of new television networks has led to a rise in the number of subject speci®c channels and in particular specialist sport channels. Numerous examples, such as Sky television's buying up of exclusive rights to broadcast `live' top-¯ight English association football in 1992, have demonstrated the public's willingness to buy new technologies to enable them to watch sport. The knock-on effect of this has often been

Introduction

9

that to compete with these new networks many terrestrial channels have likewise sought to increase their coverage of sport. For instance, following the Sky deal to secure exclusive `live' coverage of the English FA Premier League, British terrestrial channels scrambled to sign broadcast rights to whatever remaining competitions existed, as well as bringing in coverage of foreign leagues and other sports. Likewise, technologies such as satellite television have allowed many sports to be broadcast much more widely, and many major sporting events such as the soccer World Cup and Olympic Games now attract enormous audiences and have become major global events, which leads me on to my third point, the globalization of sport. There exists a great deal of ambiguity and confusion surrounding a clear de®nition of `globalization'. Sabo (1993: 2) de®nes globalization as a `growing interdependence among the world's societies' and Giddens (1990) as an intensi®cation of social relations at the world level, while Robertson (1992) de®nes this as `the compression of the world and the intensi®cation of consciousness of the world as a whole' (cited in Harvey et al. 1996: 259). Likewise, there exists considerable disagreement over the origins of this process. Mennell (1990: 359) suggests that globalization is a `very long-term process' that has existed for as long as the human race; Kern (1983) suggests it has occurred since the standardization of space and time negotiated through technological advances at the turn of the twentieth century, while Harvey et al. (1996: 260) argue that globalization has signi®cantly intensi®ed since the early 1980s with the increased power and scope of neo-liberal forces such as transnational corporations, international capital, neo-liberal economists and new-right political movements. However, whatever de®nition we choose to accept, or however early we wish to place the origins of this process, there is little doubt that today sport is an increasingly globalized phenomenon. Moreover, there is also little doubt that the processes of globalization have rapidly increased within the previous few decades, primarily due to the ease of international travel, advances in new technologies and the growing similarities and interdependencies of political and economic systems around the world. As Horne et al. (1999: 277) suggest, as the growth of national sports was aided by the rise of the railways in the mid-nineteenth century, the rise of international and globalized sport is `the product of the jet [engine], television and corporate capitalism'. Major sporting competitions are now viewed and consumed by (often very large) audiences all around the world, primarily due to new mass media technologies such as satellite television and the Internet. The organization and regulation of many sports has become increasingly centralized in international organizations such as FIFA and the IOC. Furthermore, many sports have seen their popularity spread internationally, primarily due to the rise in new mass media related technologies, but also due to sport organizations and their corporate investors' interests in increasing their appeal and popularity internationally. This has been particularly true of the major North American sports organizations such as the NBA, NFL and NHL who have in recent decades sought to

10

Part I

develop new markets for their leagues and teams outside of North America, and most notably in Europe and East Asia. The result of these processes of globalization is that the organization, style and presentation of sport around the world have become increasingly similar. Though at the same time there has also been an increase in the variety and range of sports played and watched, as more sports are adopted (and adapted) at local levels (see Maguire 1994). Furthermore, we see new variations of old sports developed, evermore increasing the range and variety of sports available to the consumer market. In particular, many sports traditionally played outdoors have seen indoor variations taking place in indoor multipurpose venues and aimed and marketed towards more `family based' audiences. For instance, in the UK `Masters' soccer tournaments featuring over 35-year-old ex-professionals take place in numerous arenas around the country, while in North America sports such as motocross and even American football have seen the development of indoor versions of these sports. Finally, the relationship between mass spectator sports and their followers has been affected by the changing nature of audiences in later-capitalist society. Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) argue (as will be discussed in more detail in chapter two) that we live in an increasingly narcissistic and performative society, where performance and spectacle are no longer restricted to `live' and mass events, but rather diffused into everyday life. Moreover, it is the mass media and consumer goods that provide the resources to fuel the performances of individuals in everyday life, as people will wear and display consumer goods, and act in ways adopted from mass media performances, to further their own performance and display. For Bauman (2001: 74), where `modern' (industrial) societies were `solid' and based upon a `stable economy', `fully equilibrated system' and the primacy of production, he suggests we now live within a `liquid' (post-industrial) modernity, which increasingly engages ìts members in their role of consumers rather than producers'. Within this `liquid modernity', identities become ¯exible and ¯uid; rarely can a permanent identity be achieved through employment as assured life careers become (apart from, for a privileged few professions) less common. Mass media and the reduction in global time±space distinctions make cultural fashions increasingly temporary and ®xed individual identities less ef®cient. For Bauman (1997: 29) identities become àggregated' and `loosely arranged of the purchasable, not-too-lasting, easily detached and utterly replaceable tokens currently available in the shops'. As suggested earlier, the argument that identities are now bought whole and complete is considered and critiqued in more detail in chapter eight, however, it is important to recognize here the increased importance of consumption as a constituent in the construction and composition of many fan communities. Hence, in many ways and in many respects, it can be seen that the contemporary nature of sport is changing, and moreover, as too is its relationship with its followers. However, it is important that we do not see these changes

Introduction

11

and developments as a radical departure from what has gone before. Organized mass spectator sport for well over a century (and arguably even long before this) has been a largely commercial activity. For instance, the world famous Liverpool FC were created in 1892 largely to replace lost income for the owners of An®eld (and most notably John Houlding) football stadium after its original occupants (Everton FC) moved residence to a new ground the other side of Stanley Park (Goldstein 2000). However, there is a tendency within the academic literature on sport to focus upon change rather than continuity (Crabbe and Brown 2003). Certainly, authors such as King (1995, 1998) have noted the tendency of many academic accounts to romanticize bygone eras in sport's history and view these as some kind of `golden era' and juxtapose this with what they see as the crass commercialization of modern sport. For instance, Gruneau and Whitson (1993: 252) suggest that the tendency to view the recent changes in the nature of Canadian ice hockey as some kind of American imperialism ìs a dangerous half-truth', which romanticizes the past and overlooks how Canadian hockey has for most of its history been characterized by `the celebration of individualism . . . commercialism . . . ``hegemonic masculinity''; and the capacity to blur the lines between ``community interests'' and the interests of private capital'. There has been a tendency to view the recent changes in the nature of the relationship between mass spectator sports and its audiences as pivotal in creating a new kind of sport supporter, which sees `traditional' and àuthentic' fans transformed into (or more speci®cally replaced by) a new `consumer' market. This is particularly illustrated in the discussions surrounding, what Redhead (1997) and Giulianotti (1999) refer to as, the `post-fan'. The postfan is seen as a contemporary manifestation of a more consumer orientated `cool', and even ìronic', style of fan participation. However, it is not my intention to suggest that the contemporary changes in the nature of sport have resulted in the creation of a new type of supporter. Moreover, it is not my assertion that `fans' have somehow been transformed into `consumers', rather as I shall argue in chapter two, it is far more pro®table to understand how sport fans are (and have always been) located within a wider consumer culture and consumer practices. Being a sport fan has always involved elements of consumption, be this simply attending `live' games or reading sport related stories and results in the local and national press. However, changes within the nature of wider society and moves towards a post-industrial, post-Fordist, disorganizedcapitalist, consumer culture have increased the opportunities for fans to connect with sport via ever expanding mass media resources and the growing market of consumer goods. Hence, the aim of this book is not to seek out new types of fans or draw typologies and dichotomies between àuthentic' and ìnauthentic' styles of support, but rather to consider how wider societal changes have impacted on the contemporary nature of being a sport fan and have increased the already diverse and multiple ways individuals connect with and follow sport in their everyday lives.

12

Part I

Summary This book is a consideration of sport audiences and their associated patterns of consumption. Here, the term `consumption' is applied quite widely to include not only `people±thing' relationships (Lury 1996) but also certain `person± person' relationships, such as in watching `live' sport. The central concern of this book is to see audiences not as an end product created by the text and its processes of production, but rather as active agents in both production and the creation of meaning of cultural texts. This is an increasingly signi®cant concern, as the social importance of consumption has increased within late-capitalist societies, thus it is increasingly on patterns of consumption and the reception and utilization of consumer products that academic discussion needs to be focused. This chapter has considered the changing nature of contemporary sport and has suggested that over the past few decades (particularly within late-capitalist societies) this has become highly commodi®ed. This has occurred primarily due to four key interrelated processes. First, the increased involvement of big business in the running and organization of sport from the late-1970s has helped bring about a commercial redevelopment, which has seen an intensi®ed focus by many sport organizations on maximizing commercial pro®ts. Second, though sport and the mass media have a longstanding relationship, from the 1980s onwards this has become increasingly cemented, as sport has realized the full potential of the mass media not only to invest large sums of money in sport, but also open this up to greater sponsorship opportunities. Third, it is evident that sport, as with wider society, has been subject to processes of globalization. Largely due to the increased involvement of big business and the mass media in sport, coupled with technological advances, many sports have become global phenomena. The nature and organization of many sports has become centralized within international organizations such as the IOC and FIFA. The range and variety of sports available globally has also signi®cantly increased, as the popularity of many sports has spread worldwide, as teams and leagues have sought to enter new global markets. Finally, it is suggested that the nature of audiences themselves has changed and become increasingly `performative', as they draw on the mass media and consumer goods as a resource to fuel their social performances ± this argument is developed further in the following chapter (chapter two).

Book structure In this ®rst chapter the aim of the book has been set out to provide a consideration of patterns of contemporary sport fan culture, focusing speci®cally on the everyday experiences of fans through the discussion and analysis of secondary data and literature. This ®rst chapter also contextualizes the book with a brief discussion of the changing nature of Western late-capitalist societies, and more speci®cally, how we are witnessing a shift towards the increased social

Introduction

13

importance of consumption and within this a `hypercommodi®cation' of sport. This chapter leads on to consider the changing nature of sport within latecapitalist societies, and suggests that over the past few decades sport has changed signi®cantly due to the increased involvement of big business and the mass media in sport, patterns of globalization, and the changing nature of audiences themselves. However, the focus of this book is not to argue that these changes have led to a new `type' of sport supporter (as others suggest, such as Redhead [1997] and Giulianotti [1997, 2002]), but rather to consider how these changes are experienced and impact on the everyday lives of sport fans. The ®rst section of the book (Studying fans) provides a theoretical overview of the study of sport fans, and sets out the theoretical stance of this book. Chapter two provides a brief introduction to the study of fans, and discusses the three-paradigm model of audience research as set out by Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998). I suggest that research on sport fans has been primarily located within an incorporation/resistance framework, which sees audiences as either incorporative and/or resistant to patterns of dominant ideology, and suggests that consideration needs to move towards a more ¯uid understanding of contemporary power relations and how sport is experienced in individuals' everyday lives. Following on from this, the chapter suggests that the most pro®table way of understanding contemporary sport fan culture is to view this as a moral career, where supporters are integrated and develop within a supporter community along a ¯uid and ¯exible career path. Chapter three then considers the contemporary nature of sport fan communities. This chapter suggests that sport frequently has a complex relationship with place. Though sport can be seen to represent a speci®c location, it frequently does not represent everyone within this, and moreover, its followers and fans are also likely to be drawn from other geographical locations. Furthermore, this chapter argues that membership to fan communities is de®ned on the basis of not only who members are, but also who they are not, and that individuals may be excluded from supporter groups on the basis of social divisions such as ethnicity, disability, gender and social class (amongst others). Part two (The sport venue) speci®cally considers the nature and relationships of supporters at contemporary sport venues. It is here that the majority of research on sport fans has traditionally focused, and hence, this section primarily provides a brief overview of the main trends and debates in this literature. Chapter four provides a brief introduction and considers the social meanings of the contemporary sport venue, with speci®c focus upon the work of John Bale. This chapter then considers the changing nature of contemporary sport venues, and suggests that they are becoming increasingly commercialized, and designed to maximize consumption and pro®t. However, it is suggested that this should not necessarily be seen as a wholly corporate venture that has been thrust upon unsuspecting fans, as many contemporary venues offer fans both increased comfort and safety. Following on from this, chapter ®ve focuses on patterns of consumption at the `live' sport venue, and associated with this the increased levels of spectacle and

14

Part I

supporter performance around most major sport venues. I suggest that venues have become increasingly `themed' locations, which offer supporters an experience that they can readily buy into. To a certain extent, and for certain sports, this has involved disconnecting them from their sense of place and history, making them more readily available to a wider consumer audience. However, for other sports, history and nostalgia have proved effective mechanisms for marketing and selling sporting af®liations (and associated consumer goods). This chapter also suggests that the sport venue has increasingly become a site of spectacle and high levels of performativity, though it argues that these increasingly tend to be highly controlled and regulated. Chapter six considers speci®cally the issue of social control at the contemporary sport venue. This begins by considering theories on supporter violence, and more speci®cally moves on to consider those on `football hooliganism'. However, the argument made within this chapter is that too often academic consideration has focused on relatively infrequent occurrences of supporter violence, and hence here these discussions are given only brief consideration. The second part of this chapter considers the social control of supporters, and argues that though direct and ideological control still continues to operate at contemporary sport venues, it is control based upon surveillance and discipline (Foucault 1979), which is increasingly prevalent. The third part of the book (Everyday life) speci®cally moves the consideration of contemporary sport fans outside of the walls of the `live' sport venue and locates discussion of this in the everyday lives and social patterns of supporters. Again, a brief introduction is provided in chapter seven, which argues that too often research on sport fans has focused on èxceptional' forms of support (such as `football hooliganism') at the expense of more `mundane' patterns of consumptions (such as watching sport on television). It argues that for many fans `sport matters' (Dunning 1999), but for many others it does not. Sport can be consumed and experienced in many everyday and relatively òrdinary' ways, and it is suggested that it is here that we need to consider contemporary patterns of sport consumption. Chapter eight considers the social importance, location and use of consumer goods in the everyday lives of sport fans, and suggests that these are frequently drawn on as resources to fuel the performances and social interactions of fans. This chapter suggests that sport related consumer goods can hold many different meanings for individuals and for certain fans can play an important role in de®ning their identities. However, it is suggested that the reading of these `messages' is rarely straightforward, and for other individuals consumer goods can often be chosen and displayed with little thought or consequence. Chapter nine discusses sport fans' use of mass media resources and new media technologies. It begins by giving a brief overview of the relationship between sport and the mass media, and speci®cally considers how the media have helped create sporting `celebrities' and turned sport largely into a soap opera. Furthermore, this considers how `football hooliganism' has been commodi®ed by the mass media and turned into a genre of popular entertainment, in the

Introduction

15

form of television shows, videos, books, ®lms and even a digital game. The main section of this chapter considers the use and importance of the mass media by sport fans, and speci®cally discusses how fans draw on these in their own creativity and social performances. Finally, this chapter considers supporters' use of the Internet and digital gaming, and argues that both of these can provide a link for fans into social networks, and be drawn on as further resources to fuel their social interactions and performances. Finally, chapter ten presents an overall summary and a drawing together of some of the key themes highlighted throughout this book. In particular, it argues that traditionally fan culture has been overlooked in many considerations of popular culture, and hence, this book locates fan culture within a wider discussion of patterns of consumption, and an awareness of the multitude of ways sport can be located in individuals' everyday life.

Part II

Studying sport fans

2

Conceptualizing sport fans

This chapter considers the major arguments and trends within the existing literature on audiences and fan culture. The main focus of this chapter will trace the tradition of these theories and critically consider their applicability to sport audiences, beginning with the question of what constitutes a fan? The debate then moves on to consider the paradigm shift towards the consideration of the diffusion of spectacle and performance in everyday life, which Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) suggest is occurring within the literature on audiences. I then move on to discuss the location of social power within considerations of fan culture. Adopting a framework of power set out by Clegg (1989) I suggest that too often theorizations of fan cultures have utilized a linear `zero-sum'1 model of power, which pivots around discussions of incorporation and/or resistance to dominant ideology. To this end, I suggest a more pro®table way forward is to view fan culture as ¯uid and dynamic and the ®nal section of this chapter presents a theorization of the induction and social progression of sport fans along a ¯exible career path.

What is a `fan'? Hills (2002: ix) writes that èveryone knows what a ``fan'' is, of course'. A fan is generally viewed as an òbsessed' individual: someone who has an intense interest in a certain team, celebrity, show, band or similar. The term `fan' is also one that is most frequently associated only with forms of popular culture. To be a fan most commonly signi®es an interest in popular music, sport, television or ®lm. As Jenson (1992) suggests, to have an interest in what is deemed `high culture' (such as art or literature) is to be seen as an à®cionado' or even a scholar. Fans have often been viewed, particularly in much of the earlier literature on the subject, as somehow `deviant'. Fans are dangerous, often hysterical `fanatics', portrayed as either the òbsessed loner' or the `frenzied/hysterical crowd member' (ibid.: 9). Moreover, these stereotypes are often gendered, such as the lonely male collector or the female groupie. Likewise, Rogan Taylor (1992) argues that sport fans have also suffered from being stigmatized from the early days of mass spectator sports. Until the formalization of sporting codes, the distinction between spectators and participants

20

Part II: Studying sport fans

had been extremely ambiguous, with most sporting events consisting of little more than free-for-alls (Guttman 1986). With the codi®cation of sport (mainly in the late nineteenth century), which introduced boundaries to the playing area and restricted the number of participants, came the rise in mass spectating. However, the term `supporter' in these early days was used predominately in a derogatory sense, to indicate a `woeful lack of sportsmanship demonstrated by those who wanted one particular side to win' (R. Taylor 1992: 8). Even in more contemporary times authors such as Duke (1991) and Clarke (1992) have argued that sport fans (and in particular association football fans) have suffered from a biased treatment, particularly in the popular press where all sport fans seem to be labelled as potentially `hooligans'. However, beyond these inherently negative stereotypes of fan culture, de®ning what constitutes a `fan' (particularly in theoretical terms) proves extremely dif®cult. As Hills (2002: xi) suggests `fandom is not simply a ``thing'' that can be picked over analytically'. Being a fan is not just a label or category, it is also an identity and a performance (ibid.). Furthermore, an individual's categorization as a fan depends largely on numerous social factors, such as social context or time. For instance, a particular follower of a sport may consider themselves a `fan', but their patterns of support (for instance, they may not attend `live' games) may see them deemed as not a `real' fan by other supporters. However, in the company of others who have little or no interest in sport, this individual's interests may see them viewed as a `true' and `dedicated' sport fan. Furthermore, patterns of support will also vary across time and different cultures. Consequently, any attempt to de®ne what constitutes a fan will inevitably involve highly complex and subjective codes of àuthenticity' ± i.e. who and what is deemed as `legitimate' patterns of support, and who and what is not. Furthermore, attempts to provide a coherent framework of what fan behaviour comprises would only oversimplify often complex patterns of behaviour and meanings. This is not to say that common (and sometimes fairly coherent) practices and patterns of social interaction cannot be identi®ed for particular fan groups at particular points in time. However, it is extremely problematic to attempt to provide an overall de®nition of what does (and does not) signify a `fan'. In an earlier paper (Crawford 2003) I rejected the use of the term `fan' altogether, preferring what I (rightly or wrongly) perceived to be the more neutral term of `supporter'. The term `fan' (particularly in the literature on sport fans) has often been used as a benchmark to consider those who are deemed as having appropriate and legitimate patterns of interest (i.e. being a `real' fan) and to disregard those who are seen to have far more trivial and ùncommitted' patterns of involvement. I felt that focusing academic discussion only on `fans' inevitably excluded from consideration the wide array of individuals who may have less of an interest in sport, but are still nevertheless active participants in the consumption of this. However, solely relying on the term `supporter' is also problematic. `Supporter' is a term that is most commonly only associated with followers of sport, and using this term distances considera-


21

tion of these individuals from the activities (and academic considerations) of other fan groups, such as science ®ction and music fans. And it is precisely these literatures that I feel (particularly in recent years) have offered some of the most insightful discussions of fan culture. In this book I take back the term `fan', which I once discarded, primarily as this allows me to draw parallels between the followers of sport and other forms of popular culture. Later in this chapter, I consider in more detail various theorizations that have been forwarded as ways of de®ning and categorizing fans, and suggest that typologies of fan culture, which locate fans within different categories and as distinct from `non-fans', are largely ¯awed as these tend to caricature and restrict often diverse patterns of behaviour into rigid `types'. Instead I suggest a more pro®table way forward is to view contemporary fan culture as a social career in which an individual's location within this is both ¯uid and dynamic, and the nature of this community itself as (to a certain degree) permeable, as individuals move in or out of this within their everyday lives. However, ®rst I now move on to consider more generally the development, and paradigmal shift, within theories of audience research.

Paradigms of audience research In their book Audiences (1998) Abercrombie and Longhurst suggest that there are three major paradigms that can be identi®ed (historically) in the literature on audiences. First, they identify what they refer to as the behavioural paradigm. The behavioural paradigm covers much of psychological theories of audiences and some of the early thinking of sociology in this area, and includes the work of Katz et al. (1974). This is often referred to as the `syringe' model, where the media/medium is seen as a stimulus from which audiences passively absorb messages. In this paradigm audiences are seen as a response to the mass media, and are often portrayed as inactive `passive dopes' (Gar®nkel 1967). A good example of this type of research is the early literature on the ìn¯uence' violence on television has on audiences, such as the work of Anderson (1977) who considered the effect television violence has on young children. However, Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) identify a number of weaknesses with this paradigm. First, audiences do not consist of a `mass of separated individuals', but rather society consists of complex and numerous social in¯uences and factors that shape behaviour. Second, audiences do not necessarily accept or passively absorb what they are fed by the mass media, but may actively engage with this. Third, the images and messages conveyed by the mass media are rarely simple and straightforward, but are often complex, sometimes even con¯ictual, and open to reading and interpretation by the audience. The contradictions and limitations of this paradigm, Abercrombie and Longhurst suggest, have led this to be superseded by an incorporation/resistance paradigm. In this paradigm the audience is seen as more active in its consumption, where the messages conveyed by the mass media are reinterpreted or even rejected (resisted) by audience members. Put simply, they suggest that the

22


focus of this paradigm was `whether audience members were incorporated into dominant ideology by their participation in media activity, or whether to the contrary, they are resistant to that incorporation' (ibid.: 15). The key theoretical foundations of this paradigm can be traced back to the work of the Frankfurt School and especially the debates of Theodor Adorno and Walter Benjamin. Adorno (reprinted 1991) in his classic discussion of jazz music suggests that art and culture needed to be challenging and dif®cult to provoke thought and stimulate their audience ± a level of stimulation that he suggested could only be found in high culture. Adorno suggests that popular culture lacked this level of stimulation and simply washed over its audience, carrying messages of dominant ideology that the audience, in their state of distraction, do not seek to challenge. This perspective has received considerable criticism, particularly from Adorno's fellow Frankfurt contributor, Walter Benjamin. Benjamin (1931) argued that being witness to art and culture in a state of `distraction' paying only partial, or even a subconscious attention to the piece, suggests a level of appreciation and knowledge, where the original àura' 2 (and awe) of the piece recedes and one is able to appreciate it from the perspective of a true critic. This debate concerning audiences as either `cultural dopes' or discerning critics has had a long legacy in the literature on fans and audiences. Particularly, the work of Benjamin when ®rst published in English in the 1970s had an important in¯uence upon many writers, including those of the Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies (CCCS) at Birmingham University (or the `Birmingham School'). The Birmingham School sought to challenge what they saw as a simple deterministic reading of popular culture and audiences' reception of dominant ideology as advocated by the likes of Adorno. The Birmingham School maintained the view that popular culture conveyed messages of a dominant ideology (though developing this argument along the lines of Gramsci's [1971] hegemony) but argued that there could be several responses to these messages. Early work by contributors to the Birmingham School, such as Hebdige (1979), wrote of deviant subcultures such as mods, rockers or punks, who frequently resisted the dominant ideology conveyed in popular culture. Stuart Hall (1980) re®ned this incorporation/resistance dichotomy towards a sliding scale, where audiences may be neither wholly resistant nor incorporating. However, Hall's work, as with other contributors to the Birmingham School, remained ®rmly within the incorporation/resistance paradigm ± where debates are still primarily located within the parameters of this dichotomy. Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) argue that contradictions within this paradigm, as well as changes in the nature of audiences and developments in theory, are making this paradigm increasingly fragile and a shift towards a new paradigm appears to be occurring ± what they refer to as the spectacle/performance paradigm. In particular, Abercrombie and Longhurst have identi®ed three general problems that can be seen with theories that fall within the incorporation/ resistance paradigm. These they call ®rst, notions of the active audience;


23

second, the gap between empirical work and grand theories; and third, the relationship between power and culture ± each of these I will now summarize in turn. In relation to the notion of the active audience, three criticisms of this are made by Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998). First, they suggest that the creative powers of audiences are sometimes overstated within this paradigm, and texts have at least some restraining powers; texts are not in®nitely open to interpretation. Second, the active audience is sometimes confused with a resistant audience; as they argue, àctivism does not of itself give power or even the capacity to resist' (ibid.: 30). Third, they warn against celebrating the active audience of any text, irrespective of its qualities (or lack of ), simply because it appears to have an active audience. The gap between empirical work and grand theories is the second major area of critique. Here it is suggested that conclusions concerning the responses of audiences revolve around grand theories of power relations, but often lack adequate empirical foundation. Moreover, they suggest that what empirical research does exist, shows an increasing fragmentation rather than coherence of media consumption; a splintering and diversi®cation of audience responses that they suggest can only increase with time. Finally, in connection with the relationship between power and culture, Abercrombie and Longhurst argue that the incorporation/resistance paradigm works from the perspective that there exists an unequal distribution of power in contemporary society; where their concept of power is that this is `deployed in a relatively unitary way' (ibid.: 34). This, they suggest, can be contested from two perspectives. First, drawing on the work of Foucault, it can be argued that power rather than being stationary is in constant ¯ux. Therefore, power relations can never be resolved. Second, the incorporation/resistance paradigm revolves primarily around relations of power based upon class relations. However, in contemporary society power relations are increasingly complex and multiplicit revolving also around gender, age and ethnic differences (to name but a few) and hence it proves increasingly dif®cult to talk of a central power axis around which the incorporation/resistance paradigm revolves. Abercrombie and Longhurst suggest that these empirical and theoretical dif®culties with the incorporation/resistance paradigm have produced inconsolable contradictions within the paradigm, but crucially the move away from this paradigm is also due to the changing nature of audiences and the (theoretical) mechanisms by which these need to be viewed. As audiences become more skilled in their use of media, their responses/actions can no longer be squeezed into this simple model, while changes in theory shift the debate away from consumption as necessarily negative, as it is often portrayed within this paradigm. Abercrombie and Longhurst suggest a shift has occurred between three types of audiences along a continuum of historical change. They suggest there has been a historical development from what they refer to as the simple audience, to the mass audience, to the diffused audience.

24


All three forms of audience have their origins in different historical periods. The simple was the dominant form in the pre-modern period, while the mass audience has its origins in the development of mass media in the early to midmodern period. The diffused audience is a phenomenon of a media saturated late-modern period. However, all three forms of audience can be found in contemporary society, and the spectacle/performance paradigm presents an attempt to understand the relationship that exists between these. The simple audience, for example, would be a theatre audience or a `live' sport audience. Here, there is direct communication between sender and receiver within a localized, often public, space. Signi®cantly, this is `not . . . the stuff of everyday life' (ibid.: 44) ± the audience has a high level of concentration and the event and their behaviour often involve elements of ceremony. Second, with the advent of mass communication, came mass audiences. It is evident that watching television or listening to music at home are distinctively different to attending a football match or going to the theatre. Abercrombie and Longhurst (ibid.: 58) de®ne mass audiences by suggesting that: . . . mass audience events do not involve spatial localization, the communication is not so direct, the experience is more of an everyday one and is not invested in quite the same way with ceremony, less attention is paid to the performance, which is typically received in private rather than public, and there is even greater social and public distance between the performers and audience. They suggest that crucially both simple and mass audiences depend upon performance; a factor that becomes even more important in their third form of audience ± the diffused audience. Here the essential feature of the diffused audience is that in `contemporary society everyone becomes an audience all the time. Being a member of an audience is no longer an exceptional event, nor an everyday event. Rather it is constitutive of everyday life' (ibid.: 68±69). That is to say, we live in an increasingly `performative society' (also see Rojek 1995, Tulloch 1999) where individuals will `play' to an audience in their everyday lives, such as dressing or acting in certain ways to portray an image. Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) suggest there are four major factors that have bought about this diffusion of performance and spectacle into everyday life. First, they suggest people spend a lot of time in the consumption of media, both privately and publicly. Second, the mass media and everyday life have become so closely interwoven that they are increasingly inseparable. Third, that we are increasingly living in a narcissistic society where everyday mundane events become increasingly performative. Fourth, they argue that so ingrained are performances in everyday life that they become almost invisible and the distance between performer and audience becomes almost entirely removed. As they argue: `Life is a constant performance; we are audience and performer at the same time; everybody is an audience all the time. Performance is not a discrete event' (ibid.: 73).


25

This presents an important and useful mechanism for understanding contemporary audiences and the existing body of literature on these. However, this theorization is not without its weaknesses, and in particular, I question this on two key fronts. First, the distinction between simple, mass and diffused audience types may not be as clear as Abercrombie and Longhurst appear to suggest, and second, they neglect the importance of societal power relations in their consideration of audience types. Turning ®rst to the issue of their audience typology/continuum, I have two major criticisms with this distinction. First, I question if audiences were ever simple? Abercrombie and Longhurst appear to fall into the trap of many cultural theorizts (such as Baudrillard 1983) of presuming that face-to-face communication is by its very nature and proximity necessarily direct and ùnmediated' (1998: 55). This however ignores that even direct communication is `mediated' through language, signs, symbols, culture and power relations. Admittedly, the advent of mass communication adds further levels of mediation and distance between the audience and performer. However, this is not a move from the unmediated to the mediated, but rather needs to be understood as adding additional levels of mediation between the audience and performer. Though, it may be reasonable to assume that media forms and cultural texts are increasingly incorporated into the everyday lives of audience members ± for instance Abercrombie and Longhurst used the example that replica football shirts are now worn as fashion items. Again, I feel that this is a question of degree rather than a new development. Using the example of association football, Nowell-Smith in 1981 suggested that football lived on throughout the week in supporters' everyday lives and conversations, while Edgell and Jary in 1973 discussed the high level of importance football held in the everyday lives of many of its supporters. Hence, I suggest that for much of the history of modern society the distinction between performance and everyday life has always been (to some degree) blurred, and even performances witnessed by a simple or mass audience have always been integrated and diffused into numerous aspects of everyday life. Second, in relation to my critique of their audience typology, I suggest that many single audience groups may cross-cut all three audience types, even at the same instance, and furthermore that this occurrence may be increasing. For instance, Abercrombie and Longhurst, use the example of a `live' sport audience as an example of a simple audience. It involves direct observation of the performance, the audience and performers are clearly separated, the performance takes place at speci®c times and location, and the audience shows a high level of engagement with the performance. However, many contemporary sport audiences also share similarities with a mass and diffused audience. In relation to mass audiences, it is evident that many sport events are now highly mediated. For instance, a considerable amount of the `live' performance will be relayed to supporters and viewed on large television screens around the venue. Also, many venues will use dancers, music and video-clips, to direct the audiences' behaviour. Furthermore, although the sport venue is a `public'

26


space, the audience is (particularly in all-seater venues) frequently divided into coherent units, most commonly based upon friendship networks or family units. Though the audience may appear as a `mass', most supporters will travel to the game in small groups, consume and largely interact within these, and then leave with them. The audience also exhibits many characteristics of a diffused audience too, as a clear distinction between the `performers' and the àudience' may be problematic, as the audience at many `live' events are frequently part of the performance. Sport audiences will frequently dance, sing, dress-up, wave banners and ¯ags, paint their faces and hair, blow hooters, bang drums and generally perform for all around. As Rinehart (1998) suggests, fans always have been (and are increasingly) an important and active part of the generation of atmosphere and spectacle of a `live' sport event and an integral part of the overall performance. Hence, the audience at many `live' mass spectator sports involves elements of all three (simple, mass and diffused) audience types. My second concern with Abercrombie and Longhurst's (1998) consideration of audience research is the peripheral nature of social power within this. Abercrombie and Longhurst's consideration of power relations is largely restricted to a critique of its centrality to the incorporation/resistance paradigm. However, beyond a few passing remarks to the increasing fragmentation of social power, this is subsequently ignored in their theorization. It appears that the centrality of power to discussions within the incorporation/resistance paradigm often led to debates that were largely restricted to a dichotomy of incorporation and/or resistance to dominant ideology. I would argue, however, that this does not necessarily mean that power should be resigned to a peripheral afterthought in current audience research. For Foucault (1979), that power is increasingly multidimensional, hidden and normalized makes it even more in¯uential and hence even more relevant to consideration in contemporary society. It can be argued that some of the key aspects of the spectacle/performance paradigm contain important mechanisms of contemporary discipline and social control. Both performance and spectacle have been identi®ed by Bennett (1995) and Mathiesen (1997) in their considerations of the work of Foucault as important elements of contemporary social control. Likewise, the gaze, as discussed at length by Abercrombie and Longhurst can be seen as an important source of social discipline. Abercrombie and Longhurst dedicated several pages of their book to a consideration of the gaze in relation to the spectacle, suggesting that increasingly in contemporary society individuals utilize a possessive gaze ± às if it were owned, or could be owned [by them]' (1998: 83). However, they suggest that their use of `the gaze' departs from the controlling gaze of Foucault's panopticon, and that though òf course a gaze that involves ownership will also necessarily entail control. In our view, however, the ownership is primary and control secondary' (ibid.). Even if we accept Abercrombie and Longhurst's assertion that the controlling in¯uence of the gaze is only of secondary concern, if understood in relation to


27

their argument that as members of a diffused audience we are increasingly subjected to spectacle, performance and gaze, this must raise the question that even as a secondary element, the increased prevalence of these in contemporary society must have important consequences for relations of power? Though it would be wrong to assume that increased spectacle, performance and gaze in contemporary society necessarily (and in direct proportion) equates to increased social control ± as some such as Mathiesen (1997) appear to believe (see chapter eight). I argue that this appears too important a question to be relegated to the peripheral status afforded it by Abercrombie and Longhurst and needs to be addressed in any comprehensive consideration of audiences in contemporary society, and hence I wish to consider the question of social power in further detail.

The power of the consumer Social power is central to many theorizations and academic discussions of fan culture and audiences. Fans are sometimes seen, as in the work of Adorno (1991), as powerless dopes who are exploited and dominated through their use of popular culture by the ideology of society's ruling classes. Elsewhere, such as in Hall (1980), fans and audiences are seen as potentially resistant to the dominant ideology, while others such as Fiske (1989a, 1989b) see a far greater opportunity for audiences to re-appropriate popular culture and use this to empower their resistance. Moreover, Abercrombie and Longhurst's (1998) characterization of audience research into three paradigms hinges particularly upon various theorizations of social power. In their behavioural paradigm audiences are seen as powerless, the `victims' of top-down power relations that convey dominant ideological messages. One of the main dif®culties with this theorization is the recognition within many considerations of popular culture that audiences are not necessarily passive and may in some instances reject or even resist the `messages' conveyed to them. This, Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) suggested has led on to an incorporation/resistance paradigm of audience research. However, this second paradigm still relies on a `zero-sum' approach to social power relations, where power is seen as a linear force (usually top-down) that is the possession of individuals or agencies. This, Abercrombie and Longhurst argue, is one of its key weaknesses, as social power relations cannot be viewed as simply operating along one axis, nor can it be seen to reside solely in the hands of certain individuals and agencies, but rather that power is everywhere and always in constant ¯ux. Though social power appears crucial to understanding the foundations and stance of many considerations of audiences and fan cultures this, often complex, debate is frequently left under-theorized in the vast majority of discussions. For instance, Abercrombie and Longhurst's consideration of power relations is largely restricted to their critique of its centrality to the incorporation/resistance paradigm.

28


I would suggest that to understand the contemporary nature of fan behaviour, and moreover, the various theoretical positions offered in considering fans and audiences, it is important to consider the understandings and mechanisms of social power employed within these discussions. Hence, here I provide a brief overview of the theorization of social power, primarily drawing on the framework for this set out by Clegg (1989). I then argue that the vast majority of discussions of fan cultures and audiences have been based primarily upon, what Clegg terms, a `Hobbesian' framework of power. That is to say, these tend to employ a `zero-sum' conceptualization of social power in which power resides in the hands of speci®c individuals and agencies. However, following on and expanding the arguments of Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998), I suggest that considerations of fan cultures and audiences are moving away from this incorporation/resistance approach and Hobbesian theorization of power towards what Clegg refers to as a `Machiavellian' framework, which employs a more ¯uid understanding of social power relations.

Theorizing social power At its most simple Dahl (1957) de®nes power as À has power over B to the extent that he [sic] can get B to do something that B would not otherwise do' (cited in Lukes, 1974: 11). However, as Lukes (1974: 26) suggests, power is an èssentially contested concept' that will ìnevitably involve endless disputes over [its] . . . proper uses'. The use of the term power, and more speci®cally the relations and mechanisms of social power, are invariably linked to our metatheories of the social world and therefore vary accordingly. The power debate is one of the central narratives of sociological theory both today and historically and to present a comprehensive discussion of this debate and the literature surrounding this is beyond the scope of this book. Rather, what is presented here is a discussion of power within the framework set out by Clegg (1989), which suggests there are two main traditions within the discussion of societal power relations ± those that follow the tradition of Hobbes (1968 [1651]) and those that adopt a similar perspective to that of Machiavelli (1990 [1532]). For Clegg, the Hobbesian tradition revolves primarily around discussions of sovereignty and community, where power lies within the hands of individuals or agency. In contrast, the Machiavellian framework of power is concerned with strategy and organization where power does not belong to any one agency or even agencies, but resides within social mechanisms. The Hobbesian framework incorporates early theorizations of power such as those presented by Hunter (1953) and Mills (1956), which are often referred to as èlitist' theory. Here, power is seen as the possession of certain dominant individuals, or groups of individuals, who can directly impose their will on subordinate (less powerful or powerless) groups or individuals. Though this model was subsequently re®ned by others such as Bachrach and Baratz (1970) and Lukes (1974), a large proportion of contemporary theorizations of power


29

within the Hobbesian framework, particularly since the early 1970s, have focused upon the (neo-Marxist) conceptualization of `dominant ideology'. The dominant ideology thesis, though often diverse and complex, is summarized by Abercrombie et al. (1980: 2) in the following way: . . . in all societies based on class divisions there is a dominant class which enjoys control of both the means of material production and the means of mental production. Through its control of ideological production, the dominant class is able to supervise the construction of a set of coherent beliefs. These dominant beliefs of the dominant class are more powerful, dense and coherent than those of the subordinate classes The Hobbesian framework can therefore be characterized by a conceptualization of power relations based upon a distinction between structure and agency, where power lies in the hands of individual agents or groups of agents, such as the dominant social strata of any given epoch. This then, is a zero-sum power model ± the more power one group has, the less another possesses. In the Machiavellian framework, Clegg (1989) most notably includes the work of Foucault. Foucault presents a `post-structuralist' account of societal power, which Clegg (1989: 17) argues, seeks not to identify `real interests' but rather to understand strategies and practices of organizations that bring about social control and discipline. Here, power relations are not understood as zerosum models of top-down or dominant ideological oppression by agents or agencies, but rather as multilayered and diffuse networks (or as Clegg asserts, `circuits') of power. In Discipline and Punish Foucault (1979) sets out a consideration of how punishment in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries moved away from primarily physical and publicly visible corporal punishment of the body (such as public executions and torture) towards carceral punishment based upon the transformation and teaching of the `soul'. For Foucault, there has been a move away from social control and discipline that operates on the individual, towards mechanisms which operate through the individual (Mathiesen 1997). Discipline, as discussed by Foucault, cannot be understood by traditional accounts of power, such as those of political, ideological or sovereign power. Here, there is no one individual source of power (or agency) that can be seen or resisted ± power does not rest, it is everywhere. However, Bottomore in his introduction to The Dominant Ideology Thesis (Abercrombie et al. 1980) warns against throwing the dominant ideology baby out with the bath water, and likewise, I would suggest that too often enthusiasm for a new theorization or paradigm overlooks the continued role and importance of previous paradigms, and in this case, mechanisms of social regulation and power. It is important to recognize that forms of societal power, such as those that use or threaten direct action, ideology schooling and hegemonic domination, continue to operate as effective means of societal control.

30


Fan culture and social power The ®rst two paradigms of Abercrombie and Longhurst's (1998) three-paradigm model of audience research (the behavioural and incorporation/resistance paradigms) draw upon a Hobbesian approach to social power relations. That is to say, that these social power relations are primarily viewed as operating around a top-down central power axis, which those in a subordinate position either incorporate, negotiate and/or resist. Hence, within these theorizations, fans are primarily understood as a response to dominant power relations. In certain theorizations within this paradigm, such as Fiske (1989a, 1989b), audiences may be seen as àctive' in their use and even production of cultural texts, but these theorizations still draw upon a zero-sum linear perspective of power, whereby fans are seen as taking (some of ) the power of creativity out of the hands of those who typically produce popular culture. This incorporation/ resistance approach to the study of fan culture has been particularly evident within the literature on English football fans. The incorporation/resistance of English football fans As early as 1971 Ian Taylor wrote of `football hooliganism' as a working class male response (read: resistance) to the `bourgeoisi®cation' of association football and the increased involvement of corporate business in the running of the sport in Britain. In recent years, the literature on British football supporters has focused most speci®cally around debates of the incorporation and/or resistance of supporters to contemporary patterns of commercialization within the sport. It has been suggested that the commercial interests of the new corporate forces in professional football have led to a targeting of a new audience (a `new fandom') of middle class consumers at the expense of the game's `traditional' working class supporters (Taylor 1995). For many authors, this commercialization is seen as a perversion of the `people's game' ± leading towards a less dedicated, more ®ckle supporter base. Likewise, a considerable amount of literature has been produced in recent years that considers supporter resistance to these patterns of commercialization within professional football in Britain ± an area that has often been referred to by its authors as `fan democratization' (Brown 1998). In particular, a considerable amount of literature (including, Jary et al. [1991], Haynes [1993] and Brown [1998] to name but a few) has developed that considers fanzines and the rise of independent supporters groups as sites of resistance to contemporary commercial developments in professional football. In particular, in 1993 Steve Redhead called for a consideration of the `con¯icting ®gures of ``participatory'' and ``passive'' ' forms of football fandom (1993: 5). Here, Redhead was referring to the rise in football fanzines and supporter organizations since the mid-1980s (the participatory) and the rise in support mediated through consumer products and television (the passive). Though Redhead suggests that this was not a simple, passive versus participatory


31

dichotomy of football supporters, and certain fans may be both passive and participatory, he suggests that there was ùndoubtedly a rationalizing, modernizing trajectory in motion which tends to create a more `respectable', more af¯uent audience . . . leaving outside the pearly gates a large section of the game's traditional following' (ibid.: 6). Likewise, Giulianotti (2002) constructs a taxonomy of association football supporters along two axes. These draw distinctions between `traditional' and `consumer' fans, and `hot' and `cool' forms of support. `Consumer' fans are seen to have a more `market-centred relationship' (e.g. sport related consumer goods occupy a more central role in their fan culture) than `traditional' supporters (ibid.: 2002: 31). Though Giulianotti identi®es this model as an ìdeal-type', this distinction between `traditional' and `consumer' fans fails to recognize the diverse and multiple ways individuals can connect with their chosen interest. Factors such as tradition, nostalgia and locality are not monolithic sentiments that belong to a bygone era, but rather have multiple meanings and manifest themselves in many different ways. Moreover, fans can connect with, and experience, sport in many different ways and levels, and their actions can carry multiple meanings and readings. Hence, what are seen as `traditional' forms of support are wholly dependent on individual meanings, intentions, and readings, and the speci®c social situation in which these are located. Furthermore, the distinction between `hot' and `cold' forms of support is based upon the ideas of authors such as Baudrillard (1990), which view communication through an electronic medium as more `cool' than that encountered via face-to-face communication, and hence is similar to Redhead's (1993, 1997) theorization of `passive' fans. However, as Kellner (1989: 75) argues, Baudrillard romanticizes `direct unmediated and reciprocal speech which is denied in a media society . . . forgetting that all language is mediated (through language and signs and so on)'. Furthermore, as I argue throughout this book (and in particular in chapter nine) it is fundamentally ¯awed to presume electronic mediated audiences are either `passive' or `cool' in their forms of support. Hence, such research, as with much of the hooligan literature it succeeded, is often limited in its scope, both theoretically and empirically (King 1998). In particular, this literature often seeks to draw typologies of types of individuals, often constructing dichotomies, most noticeably around issues of àuthenticity', and between incorporative `new consumers' and a resistant core of `real fans'. The tendency here is to see those fans deemed as `resistant' as `true' and `good' fans as opposed to the `bad' incorporative dopes (Hills 2002: 27). It is evident that fans clearly divide their world into ùs and them', and operate strict codes of authenticity of who and what falls into their `fandom' (Fiske 1992: 35). As Grossberg wrote: Every fan ± of whatever forms of popular culture ± exists within a comparable ideology of authenticity . . . This ideological difference has taken many forms, which are not necessarily the same: centre vs margin, rock vs pop,

32

Part II: Studying sport fans the mainstream vs the periphery, commercial vs independent, coopted vs resistant (1992b: 62).

Moreover, I would suggest that many academic considerations of fan culture are also drawn into this search for àuthenticity'. For instance, Williams (2000: 102) suggests that this has been particularly evident in much of the literature on the commercialization of British football, which tends overly to romanticize images of football's `golden age' ± constructing a series of binary oppositions such as, ` ``fans'' against ``consumers'', ``live'' attenders against TV fans, and ``traditional'' supporters (good) against ``new'' fans (obviously bad)'. As with the literature on subcultures (see Bennett 1999), typologies of supporters tend to impose rigid distinctions between `types' of supporters, which tend towards caricature and force diverse patterns of behaviour into restrictive categories. Such typologies and dichotomies do not recognize the ¯uidity and often temporality of many supporter `communities'. Hence, typologies do not allow for the consideration of how the nature and composition of a supporter community may change over time, and signi®cantly how the composition and rede®nition of patterns of support within this may be in constant ¯ux, particularly in a media saturated society (such as contemporary Britain) where fashions and the boundaries of group membership are constantly changing and being renegotiated. This is particularly evident in the work of Wann et al. (2001) who set out a number of distinctions and dichotomies between various types of fans. These entail distinctions between `fans' and `spectators', `direct' and ìndirect' sport consumers and `highly' and `lowly' identi®ed fans. Though Wann et al. (2001: 3) argue that these distinctions are not `mutually exclusive', these dichotomies impose rigid distinctions on what are often highly diverse and complex patterns of behaviour. For example, drawing distinctions between `direct' and ìndirect' sport consumers fails to recognize that all social relationships are mediated to a greater or lesser extent, and furthermore, `live' sport venues themselves are becoming increasingly `mediated' environments (see chapter ®ve). Furthermore, though it is undeniable that some supporters will connect with their given sport at a far higher level than others, the distinction drawn by Wann et al. (2001) between `highly' and `lowly' identi®ed sport fans greatly oversimpli®es the often complex relationship fans can have with their chosen interest, and the myriad of ways individuals can connect with this, and how this relationship can change over time. Wann et al. (2001: 3) describe highly identi®ed fans as those who are `. . . dressed (and maybe even painted) in their team colours, actively root and yell for their team, attempt to distract the opposing players, and boo loudly when an of®cial's call goes against their team'. Furthermore, they describe an individual's position as either a `highly' or `lowly' identi®ed fan as `relatively stable' (ibid.: 4). However, patterns of support vary greatly between individual cases and over time. For instance, King (1998) suggests that some of the most dedicated supporters at Manchester United will rarely wear any form of team merchandise (let alone paint their


33

faces). Another example is that though the followers of association football in Britain may often be heard verbally abusing the opposition team, followers of British ice hockey may often clap and even praise good moves or goals of the opposing team; in this sport booing the opposition is positively frowned upon (see Crawford 2002). Hence, what is viewed as acceptable and expected behaviour, and moreover, what is viewed as committed behaviour, varies greatly between individual cases. The consequence of creating typologies, such as those set out by Redhead (1997), Wann et al. (2001) and Giulianotti (2002), which often promote the activities of certain `types' of supporters over others, is that only fan behaviour that is seen to conform to certain prerequisites of àuthentic' behaviour receives any detailed consideration in this literature. In particular, the vast majority of literature on sport fans focuses primarily upon what is deemed to be `traditional' (often masculine) patterns of support, such as supporter chanting, group solidarity, aggression and `resistance' (such as fanzines and supporter organizations). Behaviour that is deemed ìnauthentic' or ìncorporative' is often largely dismissed within the vast majority of considerations of sport fan behaviour. Fans who buy a large volume of merchandise, those who follow sport via the mass media, those who attend `live' games in family units, or even those who do not conform to the `typical' image of a `traditional' fan (such as women or people with disabilities) are largely ignored in a large number of discussions of fan cultures. Hence, the majority of theorization of contemporary sport fans remains ®rmly within the incorporation/resistance paradigm so heavily criticized by Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998). And, as with much of the literature in this paradigm, this fails to acknowledge fully the ¯uidity of contemporary fan `communities' and the highly subjective nature of many fan typologies, dichotomies and codes of àuthenticity'. While it is possible to identify different levels of commitment and dedication to a sport and different patterns of behaviour of fans, it is important that we do not celebrate the activities of certain supporters and ignore (or even downgrade) the activities and interests of others. Therefore, I would agree with the assertion made by Grossberg (1992b: 52): While we may all agree that there is a difference between the fan and the consumer, we are unlikely to understand the difference if we simply celebrate the former category and dismiss the latter one. Rather than privileging the activities of certain fans over others, it is important, if we are to understand the contemporary nature of fan cultures, that we consider the full range of patterns of behaviour of all fans, including those who do not conform to `traditional' patterns or images of fan activities. Hence, rather than attempting to set up dualities and dichotomies between `real' fans and ìnauthentic' consumers, I argue (following Holt 1995, and Hills 2002) that we need to locate any consideration of fan culture within the

34


wider context of consumer culture. That is to say, rather than considering `fans' as opposed to `consumers', consider fans as consumers. Rogan Taylor (1992: 185) suggested that association football fans cannot be understood as merely `spectators watching a spectacle; nor just consumers purchasing a leisure product . . . [but rather] football fans are more like templegoers a localized religious sect'. However, fan culture is primarily a consumer culture. Though, as suggested in chapter one, not all fan activity invariably involves acts of consumption, being a fan most often (and increasingly) is associated with consuming; be that attending a `live' sport event, watching it on television, buying a team's replica jersey, observing the displays and performances of other fans, or any other multitude of fan related consumer practices. I suggest that the distinctions made by many academics between `fans' and `consumers' are often little more than an attempt to legitimize the author's own interests as àuthentic' and `resistant'. This is particularly evident in many academic considerations of sport, where authors often seek to identify their own sporting (masculine) interests as different to other forms of fan culture, such as cult-media interests, which tend to be deemed as more `feminine' and hence less `resistant' and àuthentic'. Hence, rather than relying on reductive dichotomies (such as those of fans vs. consumers), which tend to be based upon highly subjective codes of authenticity, I suggest that the literature on sport fans needs to shift discussion away from incorporation and/or resistance, towards an understanding of how sport is located and experienced in everyday life and social interactions. However, adopting this approach does not necessarily mean that consideration of fan `resistance' is excluded from this paradigm. Fan `resistance' The centrality of power within the incorporation/resistance paradigm often led to debates that were largely restricted to discussions of audience incorporation and/or resistance to dominant ideology. However, this does not necessarily mean that power should be resigned to a peripheral afterthought within contemporary audience research. Furthermore, adopting a `post-structural' approach to power does not preclude the possibility of `resistance'. A distinction needs to be made between the `goals and dreams' of power relations and the way these are experienced, acted out and even (to a degree) `resisted' in day-to-day practice (Ransom 1997: 33). Total subjection can only ever be achieved in very speci®c circumstances. As Foucault (1979: 129) writes: The agent of punishment must exercise a total power, which no third party can disturb; the individual must be entirely enveloped in the power that is being exercised over him [sic]. Secrecy is imperative, so too is autonomy, at least in relation to this technique of punishment: it must have its own functioning, its own rules, its own techniques, its own knowledge; it must ®x its own norms, decide its own results.


35

A situation that could only ever come close to being achieved in a total institution such as a panopticon prison, and Ransom (1997) suggests, that these relations could be as effectively employed within a wider social setting is an exaggeration of Foucault's thesis. It is evident that fans of numerous forms of popular culture (including sport) will often seek to resist moves which they see as exploitative and, in particular, the over-commercialization of their particular fan culture. Fans may sometimes group together and form organizations to express their displeasure and even attempt to challenge aspects of their fan culture that they are opposed to. For instance, Crabbe and Brown (2003) discuss the case of how the Independent Manchester United Supporters Association (IMUSA) was formed originally to protect what they saw as the loss of atmosphere at Old Trafford, and in particular, the club's efforts to stop supporters from standing up during games. Moreover, some fan campaigns have had speci®c success in in¯uencing (and even reversing) certain aspects of their fan interests. For instance, Schimmel (2001) discusses the success Cleveland Browns supporters had in convincing the NFL to promise them a new (American) football franchise in 1999 after the loss of their existing franchise to Baltimore when the team's owner Art Modell upped and moved them in 1996. The `Save our Browns Campaign' was led by Cleveland's Mayor, local businesses and politicians, but it was the team's supporters who were at the heart of this campaign. It was the Browns' fans that lobbied US Senators and members of Congress and bombarded NHL of®ces, team owners, the mass media and NFL corporate sponsors with literally millions of letters, emails and faxes. All of which resulted in the NFL taking the unprecedented steps of not only promising Cleveland an expansion team in three years time and allowing Cleveland to keep the team's name, colours and even history (i.e. its records and statistics), but also providing Cleveland with a 48 million dollar loan to help rebuild their outdated stadium (ibid.). Though this constitutes only one (and possibly isolated) example of such a high level of fan activism and productivity, it provides strong evidence against the assertion made by Delaney (2001: 62) and others that `fans are powerless'. However, it is important to note that even though the followers of Cleveland limited the damage caused by the loss of their teams' franchise in 1996, they were unable to prevent the team from moving. Moreover, the Cleveland example provides a relatively isolated case, as most acts of fan resistance usually have far less success. For instance, resistance to the introduction of personal seat licenses (PSL) or bond schemes (as they have been more frequently called in the UK) at many sport clubs, which encourage (and in some cases require) supporters to pay a fee for the right to purchase a ticket, has proved largely ineffective. PSLs were ®rst introduced in the US in 1993 by the Carolina Panthers NFL expansion team, and entailed fans having to make an upfront payment (often ranging from a few hundred up to several thousand dollars) which allows them the opportunity to buy individual game tickets or a season ticket (Bramlett and Sloan 2000). Though for some clubs this was a one-off payment, some licences require fans to renew these annually, and crucially this does not

36


guarantee the supporter's right to buy a ticket for the seat they own a licence for ± as was illustrated in the case of Newcastle United in the UK. In 1994 over seven thousand Newcastle United supporters bought into a bond scheme, which many believed guaranteed them the right to purchase a season ticket for their allocated seat each year. However, in October 1999 supporters received a letter informing them that their seats were being torn up to make way for new `corporate hospitality' suites (Green®eld and Osborn 2001). Though several supporters attempted to challenge these moves by the club, and some even took the club to court, ultimately a clause in their seat licences enabled the club to terminate this contract at any time, and the club carried out its redevelopment as planned (ibid.). Organized acts of fan `resistance' tend to operate most commonly only around single and individualistically motivated issues, such as when the supporters' own interests are challenged. As Bar-On (1997) argues, organized supporter resistance and activities are often issue-based, short-term and do nothing to challenge wider social inequalities and issues. Most acts of organized supporter resistance are concerned with simply improving their own enjoyment and `consumer' experience (Crabbe and Brown 2003). Many fan cultures, and even individual fans themselves, often occupy a complex role as both anticonsumerist and at the same time participants within a consumerist culture. Though some fans may seek actively to resist over-commercialization of, and within, their chosen interest group, they are at the same time ìdeal consumers' (Cavicchi 1998 cited in Hills 2002: 29) as they represent a high level of `brand loyalty'. As Crabbe and Brown (2003) suggest, many supporters have a love/ hate relationship with the sport that they follow; often occupying a position as loyal supporters, but often opposed to some (or many) of the sport's actions, and in particular those driven by commercial interests. Capitalism also has the ability to turn acts of resistance into commodities and sell these back to the consumer. For instance, punk and `rebellious' rock music for years has been packaged, repackaged and sold to disillusioned teenagers the world over by large multinational music and entertainment corporations (Seiler 2000). Though rock bands such as Rage Against the Machine can complain about the `crass commercialization' of rock music, their rebellious messages are sold and distributed by a subsidiary of the media conglomerate Sony (ibid.: 220). This is also the case with many acts of `resistance' within sport fan cultures. Many sports will seek to appeal to supporters' `nostalgic' ideas of a lost era, before the `crass commercialization' of sport (Crabbe and Brown 2003). As with òld world' themed entertainment parks, restaurants, pubs and malls, many sports will attempt to sell an àuthentic' and `nostalgic' experience to those supporters who want it. For instance, the building of the new Cleveland Browns Stadium in the late 1990s included old style `bleacher' seating to appeal to its `traditional' fans (Schimmel 2001). Another example is the rise in popularity of òld style' football shirts in Britain in the 1990s. As a response to the increased commercialization of the sport and the increased frequency with


37

which many British association football clubs were changing their kits (and hence requiring the `loyal' supporter to purchase the latest new shirt), small independent companies such as Arkwright Sportswear and The Old Fashioned Football Shirt Company (TOFFS) began to produce replicas of football shirts from previous decades and sell these mail order to fans through specialist magazines (Crabbe and Brown 2003). However, the rise in popularity of these àlternative' team shirts did not go unnoticed by the clubs, and it was not long before the clubs themselves were producing òf®cial' versions of these replica shirts, which were incorporated as merely another item (or items) in their ever expanding range of òf®cial' club leisurewear (see chapter eight). However, as Edwards (2000: 100) argues, the simplest way consumers can resist corporate powers is simply not buying the products on offer: ` ``real'' rebellion comes in the form of walking around glamorous stores, disliking what one sees and leaving empty handed . . . [as] every hour of every day, millions of would-be consumers worldwide chose not to buy'. This constitutes a similar argument to that put forward by Clarke and Critcher (1985: 116), which suggests that the consumers' primary `power' (the power to not consume) is ultimately a negative one, as `the consumer can refuse to buy, but cannot control what is produced'. However, this again employs a top-down zero-sum notion of power, where the consumers' only power is the power to reject what is given (or more speci®cally sold) to them. This, once more, overlooks that contemporary social power relations are not employed on a linear plane, and that power exists everywhere; some may frequently possess more power than others, but power is not the preserve of any one individual or group. Moreover, this perspective also fails to recognize that consumers (and in particular fans) may also be àctive' participants in the production of the cultural texts they consume. Production is not restricted to those frequently seen as the primary producers of popular culture (such as the sport clubs and entertainments industries), and in contemporary late-capitalist societies the production/consumption dichotomy is increasingly a false dualism. Jenkins (1992) suggests that many fans will act as `textual poachers'. Fans will take elements from existing `texts', such as stories or characters, and use these as the basis for creating new `texts'. For instance, Jenkins considers how Star Trek and Doctor Who fans will often create their own stories and scenarios, write songs, create artwork or any other number of activities, which they may produce for private consumption or distribute more widely through conventions, fanzines, Internet sites and the like. Moreover, fan productivity is not restricted to merely producing such semipermanent material as fanzines or Internet sites, as the everyday displays of fans become increasingly important in creating performances for the consumption of others. Rinehart (1998) has indicated how sport supporters play an important role in creating the atmosphere, spectacle and entertainment of the `live' sports venue, but moreover, Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) suggest that these performances have diffused out of the speci®c context of the `live' venue or mass media production into everyday life ± where individuals (and

38


particularly fans) become increasingly active in creating everyday performances (such as wearing a team shirt, quoting from television shows, and the like) for the consumption of others. Moreover, as discussed in chapters eight and nine, fans are also active in the production of their own identities, drawing on consumer goods and mass media resources to help to reinforce or, to some extent, reconstruct these. Hence, while I would argue that it is possible to single out certain acts and behaviour of fans as either incorporative and/or resistant of dominate social forces, these need to be understood as the ebb and ¯ow of `circuits of power' (Clegg 1989), and it is crucial that we move away from top-down zero-sum approaches to social power relations, which often lead to the temptation to characterize fans as `resistant' fans (good) or incorporative consumers (bad). By adopting a more ¯uid (post-structural) theorization of power it is possible to retain an understanding of social power relations within contemporary fan cultures, but move away from the incorporation/resistance debate of many previous theorizations. It is important to recognize how audiences (and power relations) are `diffused' into our everyday lives. Being a fan or an audience member is not an isolated incident or coherent `thing', it is an identity and as such is a highly complex social construction, which is neither wholly imposed, ascribed, achieved nor chosen. Furthermore, being a sport fan is not as Kellner (2001: 40) would have us believe a `passive consumption of images of the sports spectacle', being a fan involves, sometimes high levels of, activity, productivity and performance. Fans are not the product of what they consume, but active participants in its production and utilization and key players in the `circuits of power' (Clegg 1989) that surround this.

The career of a sport fan This section presents a theorization of the career and process of induction of sport supporters. As suggested earlier, too often theorizations of contemporary sport supporters have been based upon restrictive typologies, rather than considering the process, development and often ¯uidity of being a contemporary sport fan. Though it is important to recognize that fans can connect with their chosen interest in different ways and at different levels, typologies such as these tend to celebrate the behaviour of certain `types' and dismiss other (see Grossberg 1992b). Furthermore, many of these models tend to draw on a subculturalist framework, which forces often diverse patterns of fan behaviour into restrictive categories. These also tend to present static models, which fail to recognize the ¯uidity and sometimes temporality of individuals' locations within these communities, and even the structure and nature of these communities themselves. It is far more useful to recognize the historical and cultural speci®city of supporter `communities' and patterns of support and àuthenticity', and adopt a more ¯uid model of patterns of support as a process and career. Consequently, it is to the literature on status passage and career that I now wish to turn.


39

Hence, this section argues that what is required is a return to the classic Chicagoan theorizations of career and status passage as set out by Becker, Glaser and Strauss, Goffman, Hughes, and their contemporaries. I introduce a model of induction and career progression of the sport fan, which considers the location and patterns of behaviour of sport fans as transitional, ¯uid and often temporal, as their patterns of behaviour develop and change along a career trajectory. Theorizing status passage and careers The concept of `status passage' Glaser and Strauss (1971) suggest originates in the anthropology of Arnold van Gennep (1908) where it is used to signify the passage of an individual through various stages in a life course (such as shifting from being unmarried to married). However, this concept has been expanded greatly within sociology to incorporate the study of occupational and organizational mobility, and the process of socialization and career progression. In particular, this is a ®eld of sociology that has been developed most notably by successive generations of academics tied to the University of Chicago (Glaser 1968a). Status passage, and speci®cally the consideration of a social career, Goffman (1968) suggests are concepts that have been most closely linked to studies of individual (and collective) development within a formal organization, and most frequently, within a rigid occupational structure. However, Goffman continues, careers need not necessarily be viewed as solely occupational, but can also constitute any form of (often mundane and everyday) social progression. For example, Glaser (1968b) offers a consideration of the status progression of medical interns, Becker (1963) famously charts the careers of marijuana users and dance musicians, while Goffman (1968) presents a consideration of the (moral) career of `mental patients'. For Goffman (1968: 119) the career of the `mental patient' is a moral one as it involves a development of an individual's identity and èntails [changes] in the person's self and his [sic] framework of imagery for judging himself [sic] and others'. The concept of career Goffman ®nds most useful in considering the changes in identity of `mental patients', as this concept allows for a two-sided view of this process, where òne side is linked to internal matters . . . such as self and felt identity; the other side concerns of®cial position, jural relations, and style of life'. Hence, the concept of a career is based upon what Galtung (1966) refers to as both ascribed and achieved status or as Goffman argues (1968: 119) `. . . allows one to move back and forth between the personal and the public, between the self and its signi®cant society . . .'. Moreover, the theorization of a career permits a view of the individual as an active social agent within the organization(s) to which they belong. Crucially then, the concept of a career ties in both elements of structure and agency, ascribed and achieved status, and individual and institutional de®nitions of rank. Moreover, though as Hughes (1968: 17) suggests career paths

40


and structures can be quite rigid and persistent in their structure and form, in some organizations and `communities' these may be (what Hughes refers to as) `disordered', and I would extend to include, ¯uid and temporal. The concept of career development has also been applied by certain authors to sport fan `communities'. Most notably, Marsh (1978) considers the career development of British `football hooligans'. Marsh (1978: 68) suggests that young boys, usually between the ages of nine and eleven, were often drawn into the terrace cultures and `tribal belonging' of football support and began their career development at this age as `novices'. Some older supporters progress to become `rowdies', who are characterized by their loud chanting, singing and usually `run around a lot' (ibid.). Within the `rowdies' there is further room for some to become `chant leaders'. `Chant leaders' are those within the fan group who initiate songs, chants or hand clapping by being the ®rst to start these off. A `rowdy' who successfully proves their worth may also progress to be an àggro-leader' or `hard-case'. These are the supporters who `lead the charges at the opposition fans . . . and ®gure prominently in the scuf¯es and fracas which break out around the concourse of the grounds' (ibid.: 69). Some `hard-cases' may be categorized as (or become) `nutters'. `Nutters' are those supporters who express extreme hooligan behaviour, such as committing extreme acts of violence, or taking on large groups of opposition supporters. But, eventually `hard-cases' or `nutters' usually become `graduates' of the football hooligan community. They will grow older and wiser and have earned the respect of fellow supporters, which allows them to take much more of a back-seat role in any future violence, and `rest on their laurels' (ibid.: 70). Furthermore, Jones (2000) suggests that it is not only football hooligans who follow a career path, but similarly, the majority of football supporters likewise undergo a process of induction and career progression. Though Jones acknowledges that this induction and career progression, for many people, may take place when they are very young. However, many of these attempts to apply the concept of status passage and career to fan and supporter groups have remained ®rmly within a subculturalist framework of analysis. That is to say, individuals are seen as progressing through a series of distinct and coherent subgroups, within a coherent and distinct subcultural group ± and this is particularly the case for Marsh (1978). Hence, what these theorizations often overlook is the ¯uidity and often temporality of many contemporary fan `communities'. Though the concept of a career is often linked with theorizations of subcultures, Donnelly (2000) argues that it is possible to discuss subcultures without resorting to the concept of career. Likewise, I argue that the concept of a career can be applied to a far more ¯uid and ¯exible theorization of group membership than that offered by a subcultural framework. Here, and throughout this book, I suggest it is more pro®table to view sport fans as a `neo-tribe' (a term used by both Bauman 1990, 1992a, 1992b, and Maffesoli 1991, 1993, 1996). Neo-tribes are the loose, ¯uid, and often temporal


41

communities and groups that individuals move in and out of often several times in their everyday lives, such as hobbyists or shared interest groups. For Bauman, neo-tribes are taken as evidence to support his argument that we are witnessing an individualization of society; however, for Maffesoli, these are seen to illustrate the continued importance of collectivity. It is speci®cally Maffesoli's theorization I adopt in this book and consider in more detail in chapter three. However, here it is important to recognize the increased ¯exibility this model allows in understanding the contemporary formation of sport fan communities. Where subcultural theories frequently seek to de®ne individuals as types of people within fairly rigid and static cultural formations, the conceptualization of the neo-tribe recognizes that individuals may belong to numerous communities and groups, which will have varying levels of in¯uence on their lives and identities, and they can frequently move in and out of these in their everyday lives. Therefore, adopting the theorization of a career and process of induction when considering the development and patterns of behaviour of contemporary sport supporters has several advantages over using subcultural categories, typologies or (non-career based) continua. First, the use of the term career moves away from restrictive typologies and dichotomies that caricature patterns of behaviour and force individuals into often ill-de®ned and rigid `types' of supporters, and allows for a more ¯uid and dynamic understanding of the structure of a community and the nature of an individual's (or collective's) progression. For instance, Glaser and Strauss (1971: 4±5) suggest status passages can often be reversed and repeated; individuals may progress alone or together; progression may be voluntary or enforced; it may involve special legitimation to progress; and signs of passages may vary greatly in their levels of clarity, and may not always be visible to all. Second, it allows for an understanding of how an individual's position within the career and involvement with the sport (or sports) can change and develop over a life course. Third, it also permits a consideration of how the supporter community (and the nature and career `structure' of this community) can change and develop over time ± as with studies of biology, as an individual develops over time (an ontogenetic development) there will also be in process a general development of the species to which that individual belongs (a phylogenetic development). Fourth, it is also important to recognize that individuals will belong to numerous `communities' and groups, which (following Maffesoli 1996) they may move in and out of several times in their everyday lives, and hence will follow several (often crosscutting) career paths. Finally, whereas subcultures, typologies and non-career based continua tend towards characterizing individuals (and allocating a `type') on the basis of set patterns of behaviour and traits, the concept of a career (in a similar vein to how two individuals suffering from a similar mental illness, such as schizophrenia, may exhibit completely different symptoms) permits an understanding of how two individuals occupying a similar career position may have differing (but equitable) characteristics and patterns of behaviour.

42


Hence, while typical patterns of behaviour can be identi®ed within a fan career, the temporality and ¯uidity of these must always be acknowledged. Similarly, as Bourdieu and Wacquant (1992: 133) suggest in relation to the concept of habitus: Habitus is not the fate that some people read into it. Being the product of history, it is an open system of dispositions that is constantly subjected to experiences, and therefore constantly affected by them in a way that either reinforces or modi®es its structure. Hence, it is the adoption of a loosely de®ned career structure and process of induction, coupled with an understanding of the ¯uidity and temporality of many groups and `communities' in contemporary society, which I suggest offers the most pro®table theorization of the contemporary sport fan. The (moral) career of a sport fan Here I present a theorization of the process of induction and progression of a sport fan along a (moral) career path. I use the term `moral', as following Goffman (1968), the development of a sport fan often involves changes in the individual's own identity as a supporter, and signi®cantly how they categorise and judge their own and others' behaviour. This career path, set out in Figure 1 below, draws on and combines elements of both Moorhouse's (1991) model and Abercrombie and Longhurst's (1998) continuum of enthusiasms. Moorhouse identi®es the categories of `general public', ìnterested public', àmateurs', `professionals' and àpparatus', in his consideration of followers of American hot-rod cars. Abercrombie and Longhurst provide a more general theorization and continuum of popular culture fans and enthusiasts, and use the categories `consumer', `fan', `cultist', ènthusiast' and `petty producer'. However, unlike the majority of theorizations of fan culture, the labels used here are not categories, but rather points along a career trajectory. I have adopted terms such as ènthusiastic' and `devoted' to signify the actions of these individuals, rather than attributing these with a label and a type. This model was originally set out in this form in Crawford (2003), where I provided examples and primary data from research conducted with followers of the )

)

)

)

)

General public

Interested

Engaged

Enthusiastic

Devoted

(

(

(

(

(

Figure 1 Career progression of a sport fan

)

)

Professional Apparatus

(

(


43

British ice hockey team, Manchester Storm. Likewise, here some of these quotes have been retained to illustrate and support these arguments. Though this model was constructed on the basis of empirical research conducted on sport supporters who had attended at least one `live' sport event (see Crawford 2000, 2003), it is my assertion that this conceptualization could be applied to supporters who connect primarily (if not solely) with sport through mass media and consumer sources. In a mass media saturated society ¯ooded with sport related consumer goods, an individual's primary connection with sport is often via mass media or consumer items. However, this does not necessarily mean that an individual's sense of belonging to a supporter community is any less developed, nor does it preclude the possibility of undergoing a process of induction and career development. For instance, Holt (1995: 7) suggests that though the àssimilation' of a baseball fan may primarily occur at the `live' sport venue, this also takes place away from this, such as in `watching a game on television, reading the sports pages, or talking about baseball with a friend at work'. Becoming a fan The career path of a sport fan begins (as with everyone else) with the general public, who will have little or no interest or knowledge in the given subject matter. In most contemporary media saturated societies, the majority of the general public will have at least some knowledge, or even experience, of at least the most popular sports within that society or culture. For instance, in contemporary Britain it would be fair to say that the majority of the population would have at least some rudimentary knowledge and understanding of association football. However, career progression will start to move towards the interested position when the individual begins to take more of a speci®c interest in the subject ± such as looking out for ®nal scores in the mass media, or seeking out news reports and stories. There are many reasons why a particular individual may begin to take a speci®c interest in a sport or team and embark on their process of induction (and career) as a sport fan. However, for many of us this induction often occurs as a small child, and in our adult life the reasons and motivating factors behind this induction may not always be clear, and in many cases this process may seem almost predestined ± as if it is not we who choose our team, but rather our team who chooses us. For instance, Hills (2002: 159) in his consideration of cult-media fans suggests that many `fans are ``self-absent'' to the extent they are unable to account . . . for the emergence of their fandom'. There exists quite extensive literature (particularly from North America) on this process of induction into a sport fan community. In particular, the work of McPherson (1976) suggests that there are four key factors of `socialization' for a sport fan. These are: `family', `peers', `school' and `community'. The ®rst three are all fairly self-explanatory, but the fourth (community) requires some

44


explanation. For McPherson (1976) `community' constitutes a whole range of social factors outside of the family, friends and education, and includes numerous agents such as the mass media, athletic role models, to even being in a band. In particular, McPherson argued that the importance these four factors had in socializing an individual as a sport fan varied signi®cantly owing to the individual's gender. Speci®cally, he argues that for men it was peers, family and school (in that order) that had most in¯uence on inducting them as sport fans, while for women the order was family, peers and community (with school playing a very minor role). However, Wann et al. (2001) suggest that since the introduction of Title IX 3 into the US education system in 1972, the importance of education in in¯uencing sport and team allegiances has increased signi®cantly, to the point that `school' is now the most important in¯uencing factor in socializing women as sport fans. However, it is not just gender which creates variations in the process of sport fan induction, but also nationality, cultural background, social class, religion and ethnicity (amongst numerous other social factors) which help shape the nature, and in particular the types, of sports an individual will become associated with and the nature of their support (Wann et al. 2001). The popularity of certain sports varies greatly from nation to nation ± association football, probably the most widely supported sport in the world, trails far behind sports such as baseball, basketball and ice hockey in the USA. Similarly baseball, a major sport and source of fan identi®cation in the United States, is played professionally in few places outside North America. Speci®c sports can also play an important role in representing national and ethnic identities for their followers. For instance, within the old Soviet Union some association football teams played an important role in representing not only regional, but also national (and nationalistic), identity. Teams such as Dynamo Kiev, Dynamo Minsk and Tblisi served as important symbols and representatives of the (then) Soviet states of Ukraine, Belarus and Georgia (respectively), and supporting these teams played a signi®cant role in demonstrating national identity for their followers (Kuper 1994). Similarly, in Northern Ireland the ìmported' British sport of association football has often been used as a source of Unionist identi®cation, while the Gaelic sports of hurling and Gaelic football are more often associated with the Nationalist community (Allison 2000). Another example can be drawn from cricket, a sport that once typi®ed the British elite classes, which has become a fruitful source of ethnic identity. Cricket in post-colonial times has provided many ex-colonies, such as the West Indies, Pakistan and India, with the opportunity to `beat the British at ``their own'' game', and similarly these national teams provide a source of ethnic identi®cation for many ethnic minorities in Britain today (Crabbe and Wagg 2000: 70). The Sir Norman Chester Centre for Football Research suggested in their annual questionnaire-based surveys of British association football supporters that location (and most signi®cantly, the place of the supporter's birth) was the single


45

most important factor in determining the team allegiances of British football fans (SNCCFR 2000). However, in an increasingly globalized world surrounded by cultural ¯ows Ian Taylor (1995) has suggested that locality has become of less importance, as increasingly individuals begin to form sporting allegiances on the `level of the imagination'. In a media saturated world where cultural in¯uences become one of many global ¯ows that spread around the world, it is increasingly easy to ®nd information on (and connect with) sport all over the globe ± and in some cases it is actually easier to watch the games of teams in other countries than those local to the individual. For instance, with the creation of the FA Premier `live' association football league in England (in 1992), coverage of top-¯ight football shifted exclusively to pay-TV (cable, satellite and digital), while at the same time the free terrestrial Channel 4 began (and has continued) to televise `live' Italian Serie A football. Hence, Taylor (1995) has suggested that individuals are now increasingly likely to form team allegiances on the basis of individual or cultural factors, such as a person's ethnicity. Hence, various social factors can in¯uence how and why an individual becomes a sport fan and the particular allegiances they adopt. For many this induction may occur when they are very young and this may not necessarily be something that people are still aware of in their adult life. This induction may be based upon more `traditional' factors such as family and location, but as Taylor (1995) suggests, in a media and consumer saturated society the opportunity to connect with sport for more ìndividual' reasons, such as ethnicity or lifestyle choices, continues to develop and expand. Furthermore, these factors also prove signi®cant in the development and further integration of individuals into this career structure. Career progression It is social interaction that plays a crucial role in both introducing individuals to a sport or enthusiasm and facilitating their career progression and development as a supporter. Both Becker (1963) and Bourdieu (1984) point to the importance of tuition in learning the norms of a social group. For Bourdieu, social interaction allows individuals to learn the norms of a particular habitus and become initiated in this. Becker (1963) similarly discusses how marijuana users, through social interaction and tuition, learn how to behave and participate in this culture. Similarly, it is social interaction with others which most frequently initiates individuals into a supporter community. For instance, the majority of supporters interviewed4 in Crawford (2003) were able to name numerous individuals they had introduced to ice hockey. For instance, `Keith' (male, aged 24, enthusiastic5) when asked if he had ever introduced anyone to ice hockey, responded: . . . a few, like a friend of mine I took and now she's a regular season ticket buyer . . . [. . .] . . . Then there's the ice hockey nut [a friend of his], the guy with the data-base and everything, that was just taking him to one game . . .

46

Part II: Studying sport fans [. . .] . . . he'd sort of been watching it on TV, but now he's . . . [. . .] . . . completely hooked. That's where he met his current girlfriend, at the ice hockey, and I get a feeling they are going to get married at the Arena, and name all the babies after the players [only half joking] (cited in Crawford 2003: 228).

Likewise, when interviewees were asked how they had learnt the rules and tactics of the game, the vast majority pointed towards the tuition of others. As `Gerry' (male, aged 18, enthusiastic) responded when asked how he had learnt the rules of the sport: . . . not from watching the game, because the referees are awful. Storm try and help supporters with the rules. Like at the start of the game they put the rules on the screen and in the match programme . . . [. . .] . . . but I know all, well virtually all, the rules, and if there are any I don't know I ask my friend 'cause he knows all the rules . . . [. . .] . . . (ibid.: 229). The induction as a sport fan through processes of social interaction has also been noted by Holt (1995). Holt (ibid.: 12), in his consideration of Chicago Cubs' fans suggests that `baseball competence is rarely distributed equally . . . [and] more competent spectators often act as mentors for the less competent, building their credibility as a baseball authority'. Moreover, it is important to note that this tuition is not restricted to `direct' interaction (such as conversations), nor is it limited to the understanding of the sport. For instance, it is through observing the spectacles and consumer patterns around the sport venue, and by learning and replicating these, which fans learn (and adopt) the norms of that particular habitus; allowing progression along the career path. As already suggested, patterns of contemporary sport support (particularly in media saturated late-capitalist societies) often involve high levels of consumption and mass media use. Hence, this process of tuition and induction is also likely to be fuelled through information and resources obtained through the mass media and consumer goods, as well as conversations with friends and relatives, and hence much of this process of induction and progression may take place outside of the walls of the `live' venue. After the initial induction of a sport fan (whatever the in¯uence for this may have been) this process of socialization is never complete, and the supporters' patterns of interest, involvement and levels of knowledge of a sport or team will often change over time. This may recede in signi®cance in their lives, or they may progress forward along a career path, becoming increasingly socialized into this supporter community. Furthermore, progression need not necessarily be linear but far more complex, and individuals may regress, leapfrog certain positions or move in and out of this career structure at any time. Though it is possible that an individual's level of involvement and interest in a sport may remain fairly static, the nature of the fan community itself will inevitably change over time, its boundaries and patterns of inclusion and


47

exclusion develop, and the general nature of support change. Hence, though an individual's position within this career structure could remain fairly static, it is unlikely that the nature of the community they are members of will likewise remain uniform over time. Those who do progress along the career path of a sport fan will begin to engage with the sport or team at a more speci®c level than those in the interested and general public. At this level individuals begin to take more of an interest in the team or sport; they may look out for results or news in the mass media and may even attend some `live' games. The enthusiastic career position usually consists of those who are fairly dedicated in their patterns of support, and their sporting interest will occupy a comparatively important location in their everyday lives. This may consist of regularly watching games on television or regularly attending `live' games, and the individual will usually identify themselves as a `fan' of their sport or enthusiasm ± which may involve wearing signi®ers (such as a replica team shirt) to identify the individual as a fan of that particular team, sport or enthusiasm. Though again, it is important to point out that these levels of support are demonstrated can vary greatly between individuals. Devoted supporters tend to be a smaller section of (primarily) long-term followers of a sport or enthusiasm. These fans tend to have been following their sport or enthusiasm for a relatively long period of time and this will usually occupy a signi®cant location in their everyday lives and identity. Devoted supporters at the majority of male mass spectator sports are also most likely to be male. As discussed in chapter three, female followers of male mass spectator sports often ®nd their patterns of support and àuthenticity' as `real' fans questioned by other, most notably male, supporters (see Woodhouse and Williams 1999). Since career progression is primarily driven by social interaction, female fans of male mass spectator sports may ®nd their progression into the highest levels of this career structure limited. This is not to say their career progression is capped at this level, as certainly some women do progress into the highest levels of this career structure, and indeed in a mass media saturated society the use of mass media resources and consumer goods may be used to further their career progression. Furthermore, it is likely that career progression for female followers of sport with visibly higher levels of female participation, such as tennis or ®eld hockey, may have less restrictions placed upon their fan-career progression than those who follow predominantly male sports, such as ice hockey and American football. Devoted supporters are also likely to have a signi®cant knowledge and understanding of the history and/or rules of the sport and team that they follow. In this respect, `Robert' (male, aged 27) a devoted follower of Manchester Storm expressed many of the typical characteristics of a supporter at this career position: Everyone else seems to class me as an anorak . . . [But] . . . I'm not a trivia buff 'cause I couldn't go on all about the NHL's history and stuff like that,

48

Part II: Studying sport fans but over the past two or three years pretty much any player who has passed through a British team if you mention a name I could tell you what position, what number, which team, which team he played for prior to that and maybe which team he played for prior to that. So yeah, I am aiming for anorak status [laughs] (cited in Crawford 2003: 232).

However, it is likely that some of the more `dedicated' supporters (i.e. devoted and professional) are more willing to attribute their understanding of their sport or enthusiasm, and position at the very centre of the supporter base, to their èxperience' and èxpert' knowledge ± rather than as the result of a process of tuition and development. Such as the additional comments made by `Robert' (male, aged 27, devoted), when asked how he had learnt the rules of ice hockey: Just through watching the game . . . [. . .] . . . it's like most sports isn't it? The rules [are] open to interpretation as seen by the referee, and I think getting used to the referees and how they see it . . . [. . .] . . . but once you know who the referee is you have a pretty good idea if the game is going to ¯ow or whether it's going to be littered with penalties . . . (ibid.: 229). In many respects, the attitudes of devoted and professional supporters re¯ect those of elitist opinions towards art and high culture as considered by Bourdieu (1984) ± where individuals are more willing to attribute their èxpertise' to an almost `natural' ability, rather than as a result of tuition and learning. In this way, devoted and professional supporters often seek to assert their legitimacy and position (and distinguish themselves from other supporters), on the basis of either their `natural' understanding of the game, or superior knowledge and experience. Fans at the professional stage of career development will usually consist of a very small èlite' group of supporters, who will usually make at least a partial amount of their income from their involvement in their sport or enthusiasm. Most notably this career position is usually occupied by those who write and produce fanzines, or run and organize supporter organizations. These individuals tend to have been following their sport or enthusiasm for a considerable period of time, and will often have quite detailed knowledge of the sport's rules, tactics and history. Generally, professional supporters are either well educated and/or have nonmanual and fairly af¯uent occupations. For instance, Taylor (1995), King (1995, 1998) and Giulianotti (1997) (amongst others) have suggested that in Britain the majority of editors and contributors to association football supporter fanzines consist of a small, middle class, highly educated minority of football supporters. Similarly, at Manchester Storm this career position was occupied by less than a dozen individuals, all of fairly af¯uent and good educational backgrounds (Crawford 2003). Access into this professional group of supporters at most male mass spectator sports is often very dif®cult. Most who have reached


49

this career position will know each other, and they will introduce and initiate new members to this elite position ± often selecting the most worthy of supporters from the devoted fans. This progression is highlighted in the comments made by Àlex' (male, aged c. 45, professional) whose patterns of support have changed and developed over his career as an ice hockey supporter: . . . When I was a fan, if you like, when I was a fan at Altrincham with Trafford, yes I wore a game shirt every game, I wore the colours. I did wear the colours, every game, home and away I would have my shirt on and my daughter would have her shirt on . . . [. . .] . . . but if you like, since becoming involved with the Storm on a more serious perspective, no I wouldn't wear a game shirt. I just wouldn't. I don't know why, it's like a pigeonhole. I was a fan, now I'm a fan who's got a serious involvement with the club so I have to divorce . . . You don't see John Motson [a football commentator] in his Liverpool kit do you? So that's the thing . . . [. . .] . . . when working for . . . [broadcasting company's name] . . . one doesn't look a twat (ibid.: 232±233). Finally, the apparatus are the individuals involved in the running and administration of the sport or enthusiasm, such as marketing directors, company chairpersons, team managers and the like, and are most frequently employed full-time within this. This position is rarely included in characterizations of supporters or enthusiasts (Moorhouse 1991, being a notable exception) as members of this group most frequently enter into this position directly as a result of their expertise or experience. However, there are numerous examples of individuals whose enthusiasm has led on to careers within the industry. For instance, Hodkinson (2002: 122±123) describes certain followers of `Gothic' music and culture in Britain, who have turned their interest into a full-time professional career, most notably in the music or clothing industries.

Summary Fans have often been viewed negatively, often as `deviant' in some way or other. Likewise, academic consideration of sport fans has tended to focus largely upon extreme forms of fan culture, such as `football hooliganism', at the expense of more òrdinary' forms of support. However, it is dif®cult to de®ne exactly what constitutes a `fan', as this is not simply an objective `thing', but rather a lived experience and source of identity. Moreover, the nature of being a fan is not only historically and culturally speci®c, but also dependent on individual de®nitions and speci®c social situations. Rather than attempting to place a rigid de®nition of what constitutes fan behaviour, this chapter has set out a discussion of the paradigmal model of Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998), which presents a model for understanding the changing nature of audiences and the

50


academic literature on this. Speci®cally, this model suggests that audiences have become increasingly `diffused', as we become both audience members and performers in our everyday lives. An awareness of social power is central to understanding the theoretical foundations of many considerations of contemporary fan culture. Using the frameworks of power set out by Clegg (1989), I have argued that the vast majority of theorization of sport fan culture is located within a Hobbesian framework of power, where social power is usually conceptualized within a linear zero-sum model. I suggest a way forward is to consider fan culture from the perspective of a post-structural analysis of power, where social power is seen to operate through individuals. This is not to suggest that other forms of social power, such as direct action or hegemonic schooling, have been wholly replaced by post-structural forms of discipline, but rather that this form of social control has become more prevalent in contemporary late-capitalist societies. Moreover, I do not wish to suggest that there no longer exists the opportunity for `resistance'. I argue that social resistance does still occur, but increasingly this tends to be isolated and short-lived, and usually based upon improving speci®c consumer interests, rather than radically undermining social power relations. It is my assertion that rather than employing restrictive dichotomies or typologies, which draw distinction between `real' fans and ìnauthentic' consumers, we need to conceptualize fan activity primarily within a wider consideration of contemporary consumer culture, and hence recognize the potential dynamics and ¯uidity of many contemporary fan communities. To this end I have suggested that a way forward is to present a consideration of the behaviour and traits of fans along a career trajectory, which draws upon a Chicagoan theorization of a (moral) career. A theorization that complements, and marries with, more contemporary discussions of the ¯uidity and temporality of (late-) modern communities ± and in particular that of Maffesoli (1996). This theorization has a number of advantages over typologies or non-career based continua set out in many existing conceptualizations of sport fans. It allows for an understanding of a fan's position within a fan community as the product of both àchieved' and àscribed' status ± and hence as a product of both àgency' and `structure'. It recognizes the ¯uidity and temporality of many fan communities, how an individual's position in this can change over time, and how they can belong to numerous communities and groups, which they may move in and out of several times each day. Moreover, this theorization recognizes that the attributes and progression of a fan within any fan community are unlikely to be uniform, and individuals occupying a similar career position may demonstrate different (though equitable) characteristics in their patterns of support and attitudes. Hence, dichotomies such as those between `passive' and `participatory' or `direct' and ìndirect' supporters dissolve in this theorization ± acknowledging that in contemporary society there are numerous ways individuals can connect with mass spectator sport, both at and away from the `live' venue, and that all of these are mediated to a greater or lesser degree.


51

Furthermore, this chapter has emphasized the importance of social interaction and tuition in the induction and career progression of a sport fan; both via face-to-face interaction, and through other means such as the use of the mass media and consumer goods and observing and mimicking the behaviour of other supporters. However, this theorization recognizes that career progression within (and induction into) a fan community may not be open to all and will vary signi®cantly on the basis of an individual's ethnicity, gender, nationality, social class and numerous other social and cultural factors ± and this is considered further in chapter three.

3

Sport fan communities

This chapter considers the meaning and importance of `community' for contemporary sport fans. It is evident that a sense of belonging and community has always been an important part of the attraction of being a sport fan, and this chapter begins by highlighting the importance a sense of belonging continues to hold for many sport fans. However, it is suggested that this sense of community and belonging is not open to all and fan communities are frequently exclusionary of certain individuals, on the basis of class, disability, ethnicity and gender. I then go on to argue that as many `traditional' sources of community have begun to decline, such as those based upon family and local networks, the sense of community offered by contemporary sport becomes increasingly important and evermore a commodity sold to paying fans. However, in the ®nal section of this chapter I suggest that this does not necessarily mean that fan communities are now more inclusive, and that many patterns of social exclusions continue to operate within sport fan groups. Sport, and in particular sport venues, have traditionally served as a common expression of local identity. For instance, Gruneau and Whitson (1993) argue that the local ice hockey rink in Canada, particularly between the 1940s and 1960s, served as a central focus and expression of small town Canadian identity, especially for working class men, as these became `men's cultural centres and . . . arenas for the rehearsal of a limited range of masculinity' (ibid.: 208). As already suggested, sport and sport teams can, and often do, re¯ect and represent speci®c locations and local identities. For instance, Karl Spracklen (2001: 74) has considered the role rugby league plays as representative of northern English working class identity. As he writes: . . . one respondent at an amateur rugby league club told me that rugby league ìs a northern game . . . ± the rules, the way all this is ± [has been shaped] by northerners' (Spracklen 1996: 220) . . . Another respondent explained about how `the game' gave him ± as an outsider1 ± a template for the `northern' form-of-life . . . it `showed me a way of living, admitted me into a world where I belonged . . . rugby league has this love affair with its people, its geography, you can't separate it from where it is, it is so involved' (ibid. 1996: 221).


53

Though sport can often be seen as representative of a particular location, it does not necessarily mean that this will represent all communities or individuals within that speci®c location. It is evident that within certain locations different sports may draw support from different `communities'. For instance, chapter two outlines a number of examples of how social and cultural factors, such as ethnicity and religion, can shape a fan's allegiances to a particular sport. Likewise, these same social and cultural factors can create identi®able demographic patterns within fan groups. These shared commonalities between fans can create a much stronger sense of community within particular supporter groups, but equally may distinguish certain sports as representative of only particular individuals and not necessarily of the whole population of a speci®c location. The role sport plays as representative of a particular community is also ¯uid, and in certain situations or contexts, who is represented may vary greatly. For instance, many domestic sport clubs often gain wider support beyond their usual fan base in competitions against teams from other nations, as these are frequently seen as representing not just their own supporter base but the nation itself. Hence, the relationship between a particular sport and its location is far from straightforward, and can vary greatly depending on the context in which support for that team is placed. Furthermore, it is evident that sports will frequently draw support from beyond their speci®c locality. As discussed in chapter two, individuals may form sporting allegiances for many different reasons, and as Taylor (1995) suggests, in a media saturated society it is increasingly common for fans to connect with sport on the basis of more ìndividual' reasons. However, as I argue later in this chapter (following King 2000b), this does not mean that `locality' is necessarily of less importance, but rather that the meaning of this is often `re-invented', where connection to place becomes evermore ìmagined' rather than `physical'. Hence, sport can bring people together from near and geographically diverse locations and play an important role in de®ning their sense of identity and belonging. As Phillips (2001: 301) writes, `Leeds [United] reminds me of who I am. All together now, `We are Leeds, We are Leeds, We are Leeds'. To create this sense of community and belonging, it is not necessarily the case that supporters need to know each other or even associate with fellow fans. It is more important that the supporters believe that they possess a shared sense of identity ± that they are all fans together, following and supporting a common cause. In this respect most fan bases are ultimately ìmagined communities' (Anderson 1983), as a supporter's membership to this community is largely based upon an imaged sense of belonging. For instance, Bromberger (1993b) suggests in his consideration of French and Italian association football supporters that these fans will often hold a common belief about the `style' of play of the club that they follow. However, personnel (both playing and managerial) at a club will change considerably over time. Hence, Bromberger (1993b: 120) argues that there exists a `stereotyped image, rooted in tradition', which constitutes a `mentaliteÂ' or `collective imagery' (Vovelle 1982) that links fans together.

54


However, supporter communities are not just de®ned by a shared sense of belonging, but also by patterns of exclusion and even opposition to others. As Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998: 116) suggest, communities are not only de®ned by who they are, but also who they are not: The signi®cance of communities . . . lies in the way in which people think about their relationships with other people that they deem to belong to the same community. Critical to this process of imagination is some notion of a boundary between one imagined community and another. `Community' is essentially a relational concept; communities are de®ned in relation to one another as well as by the quality of the relationships internal to the community. Therefore, the feeling of being critical to the sense of community is constructed as much by not belonging to some imagined entity as much as it is by belonging to one. This sense of belonging to, and exclusion from, a supporter community is often de®ned along ®ssures of sporting allegiances and rivalries. For instance, to be the followers of a particular sport, team or similar, often involves rivalries, or at least opposition, to other sports or teams. However, beyond the rivalries and boundaries drawn between sports, teams, nations and similar, sport fan communities are also frequently de®ned on the basis of group demographics, and it is to these patterns of social division I now turn.

Social exclusion Sport fan communities, and in particular audiences at `live' sport events, tend to have identi®able demographic pro®les. For instance, in Britain, association football venues continue to attract predominantly white, male, working class audiences (Malcolm et al. 2000), as does rugby league (Spracklen 2001). In contrast, `live' British ice hockey tends to appeal to a more af¯uent supporter base (Crawford 2001), which is split almost equally between male and female fans; likewise basketball in the UK also attracts a fairly af¯uent audience, but consists of a higher proportion of ethnic minority (and in particular black) followers (Falcous and Maguire 1999). Though audience pro®les for particular sports do vary regionally, across leagues and over time, demographic patterns tend to be fairly consistent for each sport in a particular country. These patterns do not occur by chance, and tend to be shaped by the history and traditions of each sport and its supporter base. For instance, Spracklen (2001) considers how, for many of its followers, rugby league in northern England constitutes an emblem of northern white masculinity. Support for rugby league harks back to a lost (and largely romanticized) era where history is `reinvented' and `reinterpreted' by its followers to constitute an imagined community of homogeneous white working class northern masculinity ± to the exclusion of others who do not ®t into this community, especially women and ethnic minority groups:


55

The imaginary community of rugby league is bound by `northernness', by a `white' identity. Asian people are simply not welcome, as white people try to protect `their game's' heritage ± people are denied access to the symbolic boundaries because people in the game fear that their own identities will be compromised if the power to change those boundaries is shared (ibid.: 77). Sport fan communities can often operate as sites of social exclusion2. As suggested in chapter two, induction into a supporter community most frequently operates on the basis of social interaction between the initiated and uninitiated. Individuals will frequently introduce others who they already know (and hence are most often from similar social and cultural backgrounds) into supporter communities. Once within these communities, an individual's ability to progress (or even remain part of this) is often dependent on their ability to `®t in' (or adapt to) the existing social norms of the group. Those who do not ®t may ®nd themselves marginalized or even excluded altogether. Hence, a sense of `community' often constitutes not only being surrounded by `people like us' (Longhurst 1990), but also defending this from `people like them', who may threaten the coherence of this community by their presence within it (Bauman 2001). As Back et al. (2001) consider in relation to association football support, an èntry ticket' to this supporter community always involves much more than a ®nancial transaction. As they write: `gaining entry to the interpretive community of football fans is a matter of being able to articulate and master the implicit cultural codes that police the boundaries of acceptance' (ibid: 77). Back et al. apply the work of Bauman (1998b) and argue that boundaries of inclusion and exclusion within a given community are mediated through cultural terms ± individuals require the right `cultural ticket' to gain access to a particular community or supporter group. Possession of the right `cultural ticket' may be achieved for those who can easily adapt to the norms of the existing community, but for those who have less `¯exible' differences (such as their gender or ethnicity) then access and progress within this group may prove dif®cult. Back et al. (2001) suggest sport supporter cultures construct criteria of what constitutes a `real fan'. In relation to English association football Back et al. (ibid.: 95) suggest these criteria usually consist of an unbreakable loyalty to one team, attending `live' games and an àssimilation of the masculinist/class in¯ected argot of consumption' associated with the sport, such as pre-match drinking and knowledgeable discussions of football. This criterion operates as a form of cultural capital (Bourdieu 1984) and distinguishes `real' and àuthentic' fans from those who do not conform to this type, and this frequently acts as a mechanism to exclude individuals of ethnic minority origin. To illustrate this, they cite the case of a black supporter who suggested that `this whole thing about having one team never made sense to me. It was never an option for me to support the ``local'' team because I knew it was a place black people weren't welcome. So I followed two teams ± Tottenham and Palace' (ibid.). Moreover, many `live' sport venues frequently constitute sites of overt racism. Verbally abusing players, other supporters or game of®cials is seen by many fans

56


as an accepted part of the sport event and part of what it means to be a `real' and committed fan. For instance, Spracklen (2001) cites the example of a study conducted in 1995 of rugby league supporters3 in England which found that thirteen per cent of respondents stated that they believed racially abusing a player was acceptable behaviour. Moreover, Spracklen suggests that this study to a large degree hides the number of supporters who may think that racist abuse is acceptable but would be unwilling to admit this in a survey. Racism has also frequently been evident at association football matches in the UK (and beyond). For example, Williams (1992) discusses the involvement of neo-nazi organizations within some4 English `football hooligan' groups from as early as the 1970s onwards, and black footballers and supporters alike have for many decades been the victims of racist abuse and chanting. Consequently, for many supporters from ethnic minorities the venues of many mass spectator sports have often constituted sites of fear, abuse and exclusion. For instance, Phillips (2001: 299±300) highlighted the unease he felt as a black man attending football matches in Leeds: The same people who would hug you when Leeds scored (which we often did), would also shout `nigger' and `coon' should the opposing team have the temerity to ®eld a player of a darker hue . . . after years of unquestioning loyalty, I came to the sad conclusion that it was simply crazy to subject myself to the trauma of going to see Leeds United play. Sport fan communities of the majority of male mass spectator sports also tend to be predominately (sometimes overwhelmingly) male. Polley (1998) suggests that sport is an institution created by men for men. Women throughout most cultures and history have remained largely marginalized in their participation in sport, so much so Scraton (1995: 122) suggests that the only legitimate role women occupy in sport is to `spectate, support and admire'. However, even in their role as spectators of sport, women have remained largely marginalized, particularly as followers of the majority of male mass spectator sports. For instance, the annual FA Fan Surveys suggests that on average women usually constitute only ®fteen per cent of `live' audiences at men's Premier League association football in England (SNCCFR 2000), while Kidd (1990) argues that ice hockey arenas in North America serve largely as `men's cultural centres' (cited in Theberge 2002). Women still remain a minority at most `live' male mass spectator sports. Hence, female fans may often see their authenticity as `real fans' questioned by other (most often male) supporters. For instance, female fans of association football have often been labelled as ùncommitted' in their support, most often by male supporters (Woodhouse and Williams 1999). As suggested by Brimson and Brimson (1996) in their `lads' book on football: `. . . women like football, they don't love or worship it . . . For them, any game is just an event, but for men it's a dream of what could, and damn it, should have been' (cited in Woodhouse and Williams 1999: 60).


57

Wann et al. (2001) suggest that women are now attending `live' sport in higher numbers than seen in previous decades. The rise in popularity of many female professional sports has given people the opportunity to watch women as well as men participate in top-¯ight sport. However, it is still more often the case that women will attend `live' sport events where they watch men play sport. It is also not necessarily the case that simply because women may be seen at certain sporting events in higher proportions they will be openly and readily accepted into male dominated sport fan communities. For instance, Crawford and Gosling (2004) suggest that though top-¯ight men's ice hockey in the UK regularly attracts female fans in almost equal proportion to men, these fans are still often deemed as ìnauthentic' by other (most often male) fans, who frequently suggest that these woman are only attending hockey to `lust' after the players. Sport has traditionally been seen as a male domain and men `create barricades to ``protect'' their territory' from invasion by women (Whelehan 1994: 127). Hence, though women may be attending certain sports in higher proportions, they are still predominately attending male sports, and often remain marginalized within sport fan communities. Exclusion from leisure activities, both as participants and spectators, is also a key area of social marginalization for many people with physical and mental disabilities. Leisure activities are rarely aimed at individuals with disabilities, who may also lack adequate economic resources to participate fully in certain leisure activities, particularly as participation for a person with a disability may require extra resources (Barnes et al. 1999). As Barnes et al. (ibid.: 117) argue `social exclusion is never more evident than in the restrictions placed on mobility and access by a poorly designed built environment. All too often mainstream housing, transport, and public amenities are out of bounds to disabled people'. Access to leisure facilities, including sport venues, can require the provision of wheelchair ramps and easy-to-open doors, and insuf®cient lighting and poor colour contrast on signs can restrict the visually impaired (ibid.). Moreover, many leisure venues refuse to admit wheelchair users owing to lack of adequate facilities or for `safety reasons', while others require individuals to telephone ahead before turning up. Laws which èncouraged' (but crucially did not enforce) the building of `disabled friendly' built environments were not put in place in Britain until the 1970s. This therefore excludes the vast majority of Britain's major sport venues, many of which were built long before these policies were put in place. Moreover, at most `live' sport events wheelchair users and (where facilities exist) the visually impaired often ®nd themselves placed outside of the larger crowd (frequently at the very front of the stadium) and separated from the wider fan community. Social class can also shape participation in sport fan cultures and access to `live' sporting events. Eitzen (1996) suggested that individuals from lower class and lower middle class backgrounds are frequently excluded from attending many `live' professional sports. More speci®cally others, such as Zhang et al. (1995) and White and Wilson (1999), have identi®ed income and educational

58


attainment as factors that can positively in¯uence patterns of sport attendance. However, it is less common for North American studies to consider how social class (and associated factors such as income and education) can shape the type and nature of the sports attended. The distinction between the types of sports attended on the basis of class has been more apparent in sport research in Europe (though of course there are always exceptions to this). Bourdieu (1993) argues that middle class tastes are often more suited to sports that involve the development of body and skill, while the working classes tend to appreciate sports associated with risk and bodily strength. In particular, in the UK a large proportion of discussions of sport fan culture have emphasized the working class supporter traditions of sports such as association football (such as Taylor 1971, Critcher 1979, and Russell 1997) and rugby league (such as Spracklen 1996, 2001). However, many of these authors have been particularly concerned with what they see as the increasing marginalization or even exclusion of the working classes from these sports, largely due to their growing commercialization. These studies, particularly in relation to association football in Britain, suggest that `traditional' working class fans are being priced out of attending `live' sport, while the clubs and leagues actively seek to attract a more af¯uent kind of support ± what Taylor (1995: 10) refers to as a `new fandom', or Redhead (1997) and Giulianotti (1999) deem to be `post-fans'. However, it is likely that many authors have largely exaggerated the degree to which contemporary football audiences have changed. As Malcolm et al. (2000) suggest, the social composition (age, ethnicity, gender and social class) of spectators at `live' top-¯ight British football has changed little over the last few decades. Though, it is evident that the nature, composition and behaviour of many contemporary sport audiences have changed to a certain degree within recent decades, and it is to the changing nature of supporter communities that I now turn.

The changing nature of community Lash and Urry (1987) suggest that late-capitalist contemporary society (what they refer to as `disorganized capitalism') has been characterized by certain key developments in the nature of work and community. These can be summarized as a decline in primary and secondary industries and industrial cities, coupled with a move towards a greater emphasis on the tertiary (service) sector. Linked to this has been a decline in the `traditional' working classes, and a rapid growth in a more af¯uent (white collar, service sector) and an increasingly mobile working class. Consequently, these changes have led to a fragmentation and collapse of many traditional communities and a decline in the coherence and collective bargaining power of the working classes. Bauman (2001) suggests that the certitudes of life such as family, friends and work have become increasingly unstable, as in an era of `liquid modernity' the social frameworks of everyday life become fragile, temporary and ¯uid.


59

As Bauman (ibid.: 47) writes `gone are most of the steady and solidly dug-in orientation points which suggested a social setting that was more durable, more secure and more reliable than the time span of an individual life'. However, Bauman continues, this ùncertainty of dark premonitions and fears of the future that haunt men and women in the ¯uid, perpetually changing social environment . . . does not unite the sufferers: it splits them and sets them apart', hence, `the decline of community is in this sense self-perpetuating' (ibid.: 48). Community in contemporary society then, for Bauman, is a `paradise lost'; it is an imagined `warm' `safe' place, which the individual (romantically) believes belonged to a bygone era that has now been lost and hence must be sought out and obtained once more. Community provides a sense of belonging and safety in an increasingly unstable and unsafe world, and signi®cantly Delaney (2001) suggests, sport offers this sense of belonging and community to its followers. Delaney (2001: 59) writes, ìndividuals want to experience a sense of unity with their fellows. They become unique persons within the group and at the same time the group provides them with a distinctive identity because of their membership'. In particular, Delaney suggests that it is `primary groups' (those based upon face-to-face communication) which are fundamental in creating a sense of mutual identi®cation and togetherness, and it is this form of `primary group' membership that is offered by the contemporary sport venue. As considered earlier in this chapter, though most sports are seen to represent a speci®c place (most commonly a town, region or country), the support that these gather is likely to extend (sometimes considerably) beyond this locality. Moreover, as a sense of community is lost in many other aspects of wider society and the notion of a `local community' becomes increasingly fragile, it is the possibility of connecting with more geographically dispersed communities which becomes increasingly signi®cant. This is not to say that locality is necessarily of less signi®cance in contemporary society (and sport), but rather that a sense of locality is often reconstructed. For instance, King (2000b: 421) suggests, through their patterns of support, fans `re-invent' and `re-imagine' their locality. King suggests, through his discussion of Manchester United supporters, that this community is less de®ned on the basis of residence or birth in Manchester, but more so on the adoption of certain masculine and consumer-based practices, such as wearing certain brands of `designer clothing which are seen as properly Mancunian' (ibid.: 422). As he continues: . . . there are many fans who live in Manchester but are not part of the `locale' . . . because they do not accord with the forms of consumption which this group has adopted . . . Moreover, there are many other fans who are not Mancunian ± by birth or residence ± but which are part of this network because they do adopt these masculine practices and, through supporting the team, become part of this network (ibid.).

60


King (ibid.) argues that Manchester is used by these supporters as à common symbol which the fans invoke to de®ne appropriate behaviour'. Hence, though locality continues to be of signi®cance to many contemporary sport fans, it is often in a symbolic role as representative of what is seen as appropriate behaviour, most often expressed through the use and appropriation of consumer goods and activities. Hence, many contemporary sport venues commodify and sell `community' through a sense of place, belonging and locality. For example, the ¯ags, banners and team colours, which King (2000a) suggests help create a sense of a coherent body of supporters, are primarily consumer goods sold to supporters within the venue and beyond. Sport fan communities, to a large degree, have always constituted an ìmagined community', but changes in the nature of community within wider society, the (re)development of sport venues and the proliferation of mass media resources and consumer goods have increasingly commodi®ed the sense of belonging offered by contemporary sport, which is packaged and sold to fans. In this respect, it is possible to see many contemporary sport fan communities as `neo-tribes'. As highlighted earlier, the concept of the `neo-tribe' emerges from the work of both Bauman and Maffesoli. In his earlier work Bauman (1990, 1992a, 1992b) considers the emergence of neo-tribes to refer to the loose, ¯uid and multiple groups individuals participate in, and move in and out of several times each day. However, as Lury (1996) argues, Bauman's discussion of neo-tribes is used to further his argument that we are moving towards a more ìndividualistic' society. Bauman argues that individuals, increasingly detached from traditional social categories such as social class, gender and ethnicity engage in new and ¯uid communities (neo-tribes) out of (an almost desperate) search for community. However, this is still a largely individual act as membership in these neo-tribes is largely based upon the ownership and individual use of consumer goods In contrast, Maffesoli's (1991, 1993, 1996) discussion of (postmodern or pseudo5) tribes (or tribus as Maffesoli refers to them) places more emphasis on collectivity than Bauman; though signi®cantly, Maffesoli's tribus are also ¯uid and often temporary. Rob Shields in his introduction to Maffesoli's 1996 book provides a clear introduction to Maffesoli's use of the term tribus: Typical examples of tribus are not only fashion victims, or youth subcultures. This term can be extended to interest-based collectives: hobbyists; sport enthusiasts; and many more ± environmental movements, user-groups of state services and consumer lobbies (1996: xi). However, it is important to recognize that this does not necessarily mean that these communities are now open to all. Though neo-tribes often possess little social power, they still retain the ability of integration and inclusion, which is `displayed and actualized' through the habits and rituals of the group (Shields 1996a: xi), and hence, can still èlicit a strict conformity among its members'


61

(Maffesoli 1996: 15). In other words, inclusion as a member of a neo-tribe may be (and is likely to be) still dependent on possession of the right èntry ticket' (Bauman 1998b, Back et al. 2001). There is some evidence to suggest that certain contemporary sports and sport venues are becoming more inclusive of many social groups previously excluded from these sites. For instance, Coddington (1997: 98) suggests contemporary British association football stadiums are undoubtedly safer, less violent and more inviting environments for many female fans. Furthermore, the strengthening of laws (particularly in England) prohibiting violent and abusive behaviour at sport events has helped ensure that many contemporary sport venues are less intimidating sites for many of those previously excluded from these (Green®eld and Osborn 2001). It is also arguable that the rise in mass media coverage of sport and sport related consumer goods have given certain individuals increased access to sport that they may have previously been excluded from, as these may allow individuals to connect with and learn about sport in the safety and comfort of their own homes. However, it is important that these developments are not overstated as women, ethnic minorities and disabled people (amongst other marginalized social groups) still frequently see their participation in supporter communities and presence at many sport venues restricted and limited by the persistence of exclusionary practices and attitudes of many supporters and organizations. For instance, as Back et al. (2001) suggest in relation to ethnic minority fans, and Crawford and Gosling (2004) suggest of female fans, though individuals from marginalized groups may attend `live' sporting events, this does not necessarily mean that they are readily and easily granted access to supporter communities. Moreover, it has been suggested that the redevelopment of the contemporary sport venue has `priced out' many working class sport fans. Armstrong (1998: 136) argues that the developers and controllers of contemporary sport venues, intolerant of difference, are seeking to achieve a `puri®ed community' (Sennett 1970, 1977), which excludes those who do not conform to their image of a wellbehaved consumer base. As with shopping malls, sport venues may give the impression of being `public' buildings open to all, but these constitute highly regulated and controlled private spaces ± manufactured to be both safe and exclusive (Reeves 1998) ± and it is this control and regulation of the contemporary sport venue that I consider further in chapter six.

Summary Sport frequently operates as representative of certain communities. Most notably sport clubs and teams are often seen as representative of certain localities, but in numerous cases these can have more speci®c appeal for certain social and cultural (such as ethnic or religious) groupings, and in other contexts, can have much wider appeal, such as a domestic club representing a nation in trans-national competitions. However, most frequently, sport teams, clubs and similar will also draw support from beyond their speci®c locality.

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It is evident that a sense of belonging and commonality has probably always been part of the appeal of attending `live' sport for many individuals. However, I argue that as many `traditional' forms of community (such as those based upon family and local networks) have declined, other forms of community (such as those based upon sporting allegiance) have taken on more social signi®cance. Hence, coupled with the changing nature of many contemporary sport venues (considered further in chapter four), these sites offer supporters the opportunity to `buy into' a sense of community within increasingly comfortable and safe environments. I suggest the most pro®table theorization is to view contemporary fan communities as neo-tribes or tribus (Maffesoli 1996), which recognizes the ¯uidity and often temporality of many contemporary communities, but identi®es that these can still involve mechanisms and patterns of social inclusion and exclusion. This chapter argues that membership to fan communities is de®ned on the basis of not only who members are, but also who they are not, and that individuals may be excluded from supporter groups on the basis of social divisions such as ethnicity, disability, gender and social class (amongst others). Membership to fan communities often requires the right `cultural ticket' (Bauman 1998b, Back et al. 2001) and integration within this frequently involves conforming to existing norms and patterns of behaviour. Those who do not conform to these may see themselves limited in their progression or excluded altogether. Though it has been suggested that to some degree sport fan communities, and in particular `live' sport venues, are becoming more inclusive of many of those previously excluded, it is argued here that patterns of social exclusion continue to persist. Though some previously marginalized groups may be attending sporting events in greater numbers, they are still likely to be marginalized within many fan groups (Back et al. 2001, Crawford and Gosling 2004).

Part III

The sport venue

4

The meaning of the contemporary sport venue

Most contemporary sports began as little more than folk games with no, or at least very loosely de®ned, playing areas and boundaries. Sports such as association football and hockey have their origins in the folk sports played in Europe during the Middle Ages, where the boundaries to playing areas were often without any limitations and matches were frequently played across large areas of land. Similarly, the playing areas of sports such as baseball and cricket were de®ned only by the limitations of village greens or ®elds in which they were played (Raitz 1995). Even today, sport is still most often played in informal settings, such as local parks and people's backyards, with little or no set parameters and boundaries (Giulianotti 1999). Since the codi®cation of modern sports, most notably in the mid- to latenineteenth century, spatial parameters such as the size and shape of playing areas have become increasingly signi®cant. The majority of formalized professional (and most amateur) sports have clearly de®ned parameters concerning the dimensions, layout and playing surface on which the sport should and can be played. Moreover, the rise in spectator numbers during the nineteenth century saw the rapid growth and development of (often at ®rst) standing areas for supporters and then later seating ± enclosing many sports evermore into speci®c locations. Today, the venues in which contemporary mass spectator sports are played are often highly developed structures, sometimes seating tens of thousands of supporters and designed speci®cally1 to house one, or sometimes several different, sports. Though sport can be, and still is, played in diverse and often informal settings such as back streets and local parks, it is the developed venues of contemporary mass spectator sports I speci®cally focus on in the following chapters of this book. It is within the arenas, ballparks, ®elds, grounds, tracks and stadiums of formalized mass spectator sports where supporters gather in their largest numbers, and it is here that the commodi®cation of place has most notably occurred. There currently exists a considerable amount of literature on the `live' sport venue, for it is here that the vast majority of focus on sport supporters has concentrated. Surveys and demographic pro®les of supporters tend to take samples of those attending `live' games, and the extensive literature on supporter

66

Part III: The sport venue

violence (considered brie¯y in chapter six) focuses most often on `trouble' that occurs within or in close proximity to sport stadiums. Furthermore, the changing nature, demographics and behaviour of `live' supporters has attracted considerable debate within academic literature, and the study of the geography and development of sport stadiums themselves is also a rapidly growing ®eld (see Bale 2000). Hence, it is the relationship between sport supporters, mass spectator sport and the contemporary sport venue which this part (chapters four, ®ve and six) considers in detail. Though much of the existing literature in this area offers, at times, quite extensive considerations of the nature of the venues, supporter demographics and the changing nature of both of these, few academic discussions of sport venues (with a few notable exceptions, such as Bale 1993) take into consideration the attitudes and meanings attached to these venues by sport fans. However, within the wider literature on the consumption and use of `place', many theorizations appear to be moving towards a more `subjective' understanding of how individuals experience and utilize these spaces, and more speci®cally, the meanings that these hold. For instance, Bagnall's (1996) work on British heritage sites has been particularly signi®cant in considering how consumers interact with their environment and develop èmotional' and ìmaginary' maps of these. That is to say, how some individuals imagine and feel they are consuming, or are even part of, the past `presented' to them in these heritage sites, while others reject this image as not re¯ecting their memories or lived experiences. Here, Bagnall re¯ects a growing trend and signi®cant departure from many more òbjective' theorizations of place, which may tell you what the consumer encounters, but does not provide any insight into how they perceive and utilize this space, or the meanings it may have for them. This chapter speci®cally considers the relationship between sport fans and `live' sport venues and the meanings supporters frequently attach to these. The chapter begins by considering the relationship between the sport supporter and the sport venue and argues that the sport venue for many supporters is far more than a simple shell that hosts the sport and team that they follow. It is argued that, for many fans, the sport venue can have deep meaning and emotional importance, and can constitute an important part of their involvement with a particular sport. This chapter then considers the four key metaphors of `religious' and `heritage' site, èducator' and `home', which John Bale (1993) suggests can be used to help understand the relationship between sport fans and the sport venue. However, I argue that these metaphors and meanings are those that are most commonly attached to `traditional' sports and venues (such as association football in the UK). That is to say, these are the kinds of meanings and importance which supporters often attach to well-established sports and historic venues. However, such metaphors become less applicable for many `new' and ìmported' sports, contemporary venues and newer supporters (such as ice hockey or basketball in the UK).


67

This chapter then moves on to consider the changing nature of contemporary sport venues. This section draws parallels between the development of newer sport venues and the proliferation of shopping malls, and suggests that many sport venues are likewise frequently located in out-of-town locations and within wider entertainment complexes. The nature of the venues themselves has also changed as these have become evermore aimed at maximizing consumption and leisure èxperience'. However, it is argued that this increased commercialization and redevelopment should not be viewed as wholly negative, as it has provided many fans with better facilities, greater comfort and increased safety.

The meaning of the sport venue Traditionally, formalized sport teams have tended to have a signi®cant link to a speci®c place and are representative of a particular location. For instance, the vast majority of formalized sport teams the world-over are named after the place (usually the city, town or district) where they play (Canter et al. 1989). Sport is extremely powerful in stimulating local, regional and national pride, and àpart from war, sport is one of the few things that binds people to place simply through ascription' (Bale 1989: 14). Moreover, the majority of professional sport teams have a speci®c stadium or arena in which they regularly play, tying them even more closely to one location and structure2. This structure can hold a great deal of importance and meaning, not only for the athletes who perform in these, but also for the fans who come to watch and support these teams. Individuals, Bale (2000) suggests, can have a topophilic (love of place) relationship with a particular sport venue, which is both a part of their support but at the same time transcends this and constitutes a speci®c relationship between the fan and the venue. As Bale (2000: 92) continues: The psychological bene®ts to be derived from football have led the stadium to be seen as a source of topophilia ± a love of place [Tuan 1974]. Those who regularly frequent their `home ground' articulate such a feeling. For example, talking about Easter Road, the home of Hibernian FC in Edinburgh, a supporter stated: `that piece of land is wrapped into my Saturday you know, in the sense that it is consistent with how I conduct Saturdays, where I go before the game, who I meet up with, what time I leave' [Mackay 1995]. Moving to a new ground would be `like losing someone in the family' [ibid.] noted another fan, typifying the strength of feeling that can be attached to a football ground as a place, an emotional tie which can take the stadium beyond a simple functional space for the production of football matches. For many fans the sport venue itself can constitute one of the primary attractions to attending `live' sport. As Inglis (2001a: 18) writes, `much as I like sport

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I prefer stadiums'. He continues, `stadiums are special. It is as uncomplicated as that' (ibid.: 85). Furthermore, it is the àtmosphere' within a sport venue and the emotions stimulated by attending an event, which many fans cite as their main reasons for attending `live' sport. As Giulianotti (1999: 69) suggests, `the more intense the `àtmosphere'', the more pleasurable the game'. Moreover, when Crawford (2001) surveyed over 700 followers of British ice hockey, 72 per cent of respondents placed the àtmosphere' within the venue as one of their top ®ve reasons for attending ice hockey ± by far the single greatest reason given by the respondents. The contemporary sport venue is àn integral part of a gratifying sporting experience, for spectators and participants alike . . . [and] provides a context for experience' (Raitz 1995: ix). Even for venues that may lack adequate facilities and may not be àesthetically' pleasing, these can still hold great sentiment for certain supporters. As Hopcraft (1988) states of English association football stadiums, `football grounds are not often attractive places in the ornamental sense. Their beauty is the special, environmental kind, appreciated only to people who relate the setting to their emotional attachment' (cited in Giulianotti 1999: 69±70). In particular, Bale (1993) suggests that most notably the social importance of the sport venue can be understood via four3 key metaphors ± those of `religious' site, as a site of èducation', `home' and `heritage'. First, the metaphor of sport as a `religion' is one that is quite strong in Bale's work, and in particular in his consideration of association football in Britain. As Bale (1993: 66) suggests, `football certainly shares many similarities with religion; each seeks perfection, each is built on discipline, they involve an integration of the mind and spirit and they establish rituals and symbols related to people, place and procedures'. If sport is a religion, then its stadia (so Bale's argument follows) are its temples and cemeteries. For instance, in relation to North American baseball, Neilson (1995: 30) suggests that `baseball parks . . . are among the few sacred grounds of a secularized society with deep and atavistic spiritual impulses'. These are the sites where the devoted followers of sport regularly gather to worship, and have on occasion become monuments to death and tragedy such as the Munich4 clock at Old Trafford (home of Manchester United) or the tribute to the victims of the Hillsborough5 tragedy at An®eld, home of Liverpool FC. Taylor (1991: 5) wrote of how the home of Shef®eld Wednesday, and the site of the 1989 Hillsborough disaster, became a shrine decorated with ¯owers and football memorabilia, and moreover, how this and other `shrines' were portrayed in the mass media: The pictures of these shrines shown on televisions and later the repeated photographs carried in the daily press and in the specialist soccer magazines, also reminded me how the stadia have historically for long periods been the objects of what we might call popular sancti®cation.


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Second, Bale sees the contemporary sport venue as a site for education, as it is here that people are taught the values of physical achievement, fair play and are provided with sporting role models to admire and emulate (1989: 18). Bale (1993) also discusses the argument that the contemporary sport venue represents a useful site of hegemonic schooling6. Sport can be seen as the new opiate of the masses, and rivalries between different working class groups expressed through sport can de¯ect tensions away from class struggles. Though Bale stops short of fully endorsing such arguments, it is evident that he gives these a certain level of credence within his work. The third and fourth metaphors of `home' and `heritage' sites are closely linked in the work of Bale. Bale (1993) suggests that sport venues are often imbued with a sense of place, pride and general affection by supporters; it is their home team, and their home ground. As Taylor (1991: 5) suggests, in many cases the sport venue has become an èmblem of locality'; representing a town and its people. This can often be linked to heritage, as pride in the stadium can often be derived from past glories and history. As Canter et al. (1989: 82) suggest: One of the most important physical symbols of a [sport] club is the ground itself. The social history of the club is embedded in and complemented by the grounds. The home turf is the ultimate symbol of a team and the style of the buildings often re¯ects not only the history of times of success and failure but also the hopes and aspirations . . . Raitz (1995: 5) suggests that the creation of a `sense of place' to a large degree is based upon an association between a particular location and a sense of history and past events that are associated with that site. For instance, Inglis (2001a: 87) in his discussion of Wrigley Field, the home of the Chicago Cubs baseball team, writes that `millions of words, most of them sentimental, have already been written about Wrigley Field' but adds his own words of celebration of this historic venue, which ®rst opened in 1914: `Wrigley Field . . . looks like goin' on and on. Like the Statue of Liberty, Capitol Hill and the Golden Gate Bridge, the US of A without Wrigley Field is almost impossible to imagine'. Inglis (ibid: 91) continues, `Wrigley Field . . . [has] managed, through Depression, Prohibition, Cold War, the Summer of Love, and now the advent of night games, to retain its links with baseball's more heroic, mythical, past'. For many sport venues it is their history (or more speci®cally their association with past events) which gives these their importance and meaning to fans. Many of these metaphors and sentiments are summed up in the comments of the British author and journalist Phillips (2001: 301), when he suggests that while living in New York, the one thing he missed of England was not English television, the English newspapers or even English beer (as all of these he could still get in New York), but rather Elland Road, the home of Leeds United football club.

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Part III: The sport venue I miss parking the car as close to the ground as possible. I miss walking towards the ground and seeing the huge cantilevered stand. I miss being able to turn to my best friend, John, and say (yet again), `There's the cathedral'. I miss being able to read the programme and drink Bovril and wonder who's going to play today, who might be injured, and then quickly ¯ick to the page in the programme with the League tables so I can check out exactly where we are. I miss talking to the old guys next to me in the stands, who always wonder if I've been before . . . I miss being able to look over to the spot where my dad and I sat in the early 1970s when he came to his one and only game (Leeds 5 Derby 0). As we left the ground, my dad turned to me and said, `Bremner, he's Dynamo'. That's it, Dad. You're getting it. But he never did. To this day he still listens to cricket on the radio.

The above quotation by Phillips highlights the meanings and importance particular locations can have for certain individuals. However, though there may exist common (or even dominant) metaphors through which it is possible to understand how many individuals view speci®c locations, it is impossible for these to capture the full diversity of meanings that individuals can attach to a particular place. As Byrne (2001: 141±142) suggests ìn a social sense the components of a built environment, despite their concreteness, are not ®xed and material. Rather they have meaning through the actions of interpretation and/or consumption in speci®c context'. In particular, the metaphors of religion, educator, home and heritage set out by Bale (1993) represent a very `traditional' view of the meanings and importance that supporters may attach to contemporary sport venues. Though these metaphors may re¯ect the opinions of many followers of more established sports and historic venues, the changing nature of sport and in particular the changing nature of contemporary sport venues questions the continued validity of these. Many older stadiums, which frequently lacked àesthetic' appeal but often held historic signi®cance for many supporters, are now being transformed or replaced by newer, more comfortable, often multipurpose contemporary venues, which are designed to maximize consumption and attract a new `family-based' market. Consequently, the relationship between the sport supporter and these new types and styles of venue are also changing, as too are the meanings and attachments supporters develop with these.

The changing nature of the contemporary sport venue As with the nature of sport in late-capitalist society, contemporary sport venues are changing. The venues of many mass spectator sports, particularly since the 1990s, have witnessed extensive redevelopment and rebuilding, offering supporters safer and more comfortable environments and amenities. The older venues of many mass spectator sports, whose original structures often dated back to the early part of the twentieth century, had become increasingly out-


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dated and progressively out of touch with the comfort and convenience offered at other contemporary leisure venues such as new multiplex cinemas and concert venues. For instance, Critcher (1979) suggests that the main reason for the decline in attendance ®gures at top-¯ight English association football in the post-war period was a general dissatisfaction with the outdated, often uncomfortable and at times dangerous, facilities of many stadiums around the country. As Critcher (ibid.: 169) writes, `The message, then, was clear. Spectators were not disaffected from the game as such, but from the facilities it offered and its inability to adopt a more modern style of self-presentation.' Inglis (2001a) suggests that the redevelopment of contemporary sport venues constitutes part of a general progression in the nature of leisure and entertainment venues, away from the overcrowding and dangers of past eras towards a more comfortable and supposedly more `civilized' environment: At the theatre, at the rock concert, at sports events; the changes have been the same the whole world over. Even if it takes a bit longer to occur in some areas than others. Essentially, one day you're a `groundling', standing up in a pit, throwing rotten fruit at the actors and pissing down the leg of your mate's breeches. The next you're slumped in a padded armchair eating overpriced ice cream with a plastic spoon and telling off the people behind you for crackling their toffee wrappers (ibid.: 39). It is possible to view these, and similar developments, as part of a wider Eliasian process of `civilization'. For Elias (1978) `the civilizing process' takes place on two levels. The ®rst is on an individual level, and relates to the process of socialization by which a child learns adult behaviour and patterns of etiquette. The second asks where these patterns of accepted behaviour come from, and argues that it is possible to see a long-term civilizing processes shaping patterns of behaviour over generations in a particular culture. Elias argued that this was a result of structural changes within societies ± as societies and states became more complex, patterns of acceptable and civilized behaviour change in a particular and discernible direction. Though undoubtedly historical changes in social expectations and patterns of etiquette will have had some in¯uence on the nature of sport venues and the behaviour of audiences within these, it is speci®cally the contemporary consequences of shifts towards a late-capitalist society that I wish to consider here. As considered in chapter one, there have been certain notable developments in the nature of social structures, employment patterns, and social classes within late-capitalist societies, which have had a substantial effect on the contemporary nature of sport and leisure. For instance, Gruneau and Whitson (1993) discuss how the decline of many traditional primary and secondary industries, coupled with the effect this had on many small-town and rural communities led to an increasing urbanization and movement of labour into larger cities and regional hubs in the post-war period in Canada. This together with an explosion in the Canadian property market in the 1980s, a `gentri®cation

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of urban neighbourhoods', and a `rationalization of the retail industries' towards franchized chains and the proliferation of shopping malls, resulted in the decline of many small-town municipal ice hockey venues, and the rise in new regional major-league venues. Likewise, similar changes and developments in the nature of many contemporary mass spectator sports, and their venues, can be seen in advanced capitalist societies the world over. For example, Neilson (1995: 53) suggests that the post-war social and economic changes have affected the nature of contemporary baseball in North America. By the 1950s many North American baseball parks were over forty years old and increasingly outdated and àgeing fast', and the suburbanization, increased af¯uence, and mobilization (largely due to the rising popularity of the motor car), of America's middle classes saw many baseball teams relocate to suburban or out-of-town venues. The American middle classes had left behind the overcrowded city centres, and many were reluctant to travel back into these for their leisure and entertainment. In growth which mirrored the development of out-of-town shopping malls, North American sport stadiums began to appear on development sites on major road networks away from city centres and located within convenient distance of other entertainment and leisure facilities. The older North American sport stadiums, which had often developed within urban neighbourhoods surrounded by city life, were slowly abandoned in favour of new out-of-town venues planned and designed as sites of leisure, comfort and entertainment. As Neilson (1995: 54±55) wrote: The outside of the [ball]park is no longer experienced as a series of facades emerging from among other facades as one approaches along the urban network of streets. Instead the new stadium is a plastic object seen in space and surrounded by space, revealed all at once in its entirety. While it is the locus of movement from all sides, it bears only the tenuous relationship to its surrounding environment, like a Gothic cathedral in a bean®eld. If the crowded inner city imposed a (sometimes sti¯ing) organic unity geographically linking one's work life, family life, social life and diversions, the new ballpark temples rising out on the blank edge of town expressed the growing (and deliberately sought-after) separation of life's parts into noncommunicating rooms. Since 1990, Delaney (2001) states, 37 new major league sport venues have opened in the US costing a total of over six and a half billion dollars. In 1999 alone ®ve new arenas opened to house NBA (basketball) teams. Moreover, the design of many of these venues is much more geared towards catering for an af¯uent family-based audience than the older venues that these replaced. Many of these are speci®cally designed to accommodate more higher paying clientele through the use of `club seats', luxury suites, executive boxes7, and exclusive bars and restaurants; all with an optimum view of the playing area (ibid.).


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There is also an increased blurring between the experiences of the `live' venue and watching sport at home. As new digital television technologies offer the home fan ever expanding amounts of information and the ability to select camera angles and `look round' the venue, the `live' venue is incorporating many comforts of the home. Most major sport venues offer private, and often quite comfortable seating, and large screen televisions, for action replays, close-ups of the action, and even commercial breaks. Venue audio-systems often provide audience members with details on the game, such as fouls committed, and the range of refreshments on offer rivals even the best stocked larder or refrigerator. Many older venues have been redeveloped to cater for larger numbers of corporate clients. For instance, several British association football stadiums, such as The Arsenal Stadium Highbury (the home to Arsenal) and St. James' Park (the home of Newcastle United), have seen urban-based venues redeveloped to accommodate more executive boxes and corporate facilities (often at the expense of cheaper seating areas). Bale (2000: 93) suggests that the contemporary association football stadium has become more like a `tradium' ± à public± private space that linked leisure with spending'. He continues: Improved catering and integrated conference and banqueting facilities, museums, hotels and merchandising typi®ed the contents of such multifunctional spaces. Additionally, stadium space would, ideally, be used for sports other than football and for entertainment other than sport. Rugby, rock concerts, religious revivals and a whole range of other activities were seen as providing revenue (ibid.) Bale makes an important point concerning the multi-purpose use of many new contemporary sport venues. As Neilson (1995: 60) argues, new sport venues often cost large sums of money to construct and maintain, and hence to ensure their continued viability it is important to `maximize their use'. Many new venues are used to house other events, such as rock concerts and religious gatherings, but also many of these venues are equipped with additional facilities, such as restaurants, bars, cinemas and even hotels (such as the Skydome in Toronto ± see Neilson 1995: 64). Furthermore, many other out-oftown sport venues are located within a wider development of retail outlets, bars, restaurants and other entertainment facilities ± with the sport venue merely as the ànchor' attraction within a wider entertainments complex (ibid.). In building new suburban and out-of-town sport venues, it is suggested that many sports have sought to re-orientate themselves towards a new (middle class) audience with more free time and disposable income, and locate `live' sport within a wider entertainment and leisure market, in order to attract a larger and more af¯uent supporter base. In particular, as Gruneau and Whitson (1993) suggest in relation to North America, income generated from television rights has begun to plateau (if not fall) in many major sports. Likewise, the recent collapse (in 2002) of the digital television company ITV Digital

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in the UK, after disappointing subscription ®gures for their coverage of the English (association) Football League, has left these 72 clubs being owed over 100 million pounds (Kane 2002), which calls into question football's continued heavy reliance on income from television. Many sports ®nd themselves competing in an increasingly overcrowded entertainment market. The globalization of sport has witnessed the proliferation of many `new' sports around the world. Association football at last looks likely to have cemented its (periphery) location within an already overcrowded US sports market, while many traditionally North American dominated sports (and in particular baseball, basketball and ice hockey) have found new markets in Europe and East Asia. However, professional sports also ®nd themselves competing for customers against other entertainment venues, such as theme parks, multiplex cinemas, shopping malls and the ever-growing home entertainment market of television (and in recent years cable and digital), videos, DVDs, the Internet and digital gaming. Sport needs to attract new audiences and new consumers if it is to continue to prosper in this ever more competitive market, and likewise needs to offer the conveniences and comforts increasingly offered by other forms of mass-market entertainment (Gruneau and Whitson 1993). However, the redevelopment of contemporary sport venues should not be seen as solely a corporate decision made by club executives, forced upon unsuspecting fans. As Critcher (1979, cited earlier) argued, by the 1960s and 1970s there was a general dissatisfaction amongst many fans with the majority of association football grounds in Britain. Moreover, Giulianotti (1999: 76) suggests that the redevelopment of many British association football stadiums should be seen as a `small . . . victory for fans over club directors, police and political authorities, regarding control over ground space'. Many sport venues, and in particular British association football stadiums, towards the middle to end of the twentieth century were outdated in style and facilities, and in many cases were also dangerous for supporters. This redevelopment has led some authors to suggest that many contemporary sport venues are now devoid of the charm and character of older venues that grew up organically in our towns and cities. As Inglis (2001a: 39) writes, `stadiums have become sanitized and, in a spatial sense, privatized, spectators have been seduced, cowed even, into becoming consumers'. Consequently, Bale (2000: 100) fears for a future where spectating sport will take place in `dystopian, sanitized ``leisure zones'' ' ± comfortable and safe environments, lacking the appeal of older venues. Many authors write affectionately about what they see as a lost era of àuthentic' sport audiences and venues. For instance, Bowden (1995: 122) writes of his early experiences of standing on the terraces of old English association football stadiums ± terracing that has now been largely replaced by seating at most professional sport stadiums in Britain: To stand packed on a terrace is to become part of terrace culture, to feel the shape and edges of at least four other bodies. There is nothing quite


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so out-of-body and helpless as being part of a crowd craning to see action in a corner and feeling oneself part of an involuntary human wave of massive energy. Furthermore, this romanticization of older venues is not restricted to British association football, and in particular, Neilson (1995: 62) writes of the `blankness' of contemporary baseball venues, which he sees as devoid and detached from history and locality. As he writes: The mental landscape to which they [contemporary baseball stadiums] properly belong is not that of their respective cities but that of the nationwide television grid. They were built to be seen in the atomized fragments of reality that the screen presents to us (ibid). King (1995) suggests that many academic writers have a tendency to overromanticize their early experiences of sport, and often discuss this as a `golden age' of sport that has now been lost to the modernization and commercialization of sport. However, this romanticization is not restricted to academic writers and many sport fans and stadium developers alike have expressed concerns that some new sport venue developments lack the history and character of older venues, which supporters often held with such deep affection. Consequently, some stadium developers have begun to look back to older stadiums for inspiration and have actively sought to create venues that, though they still incorporate the safety and comfort of a new stadium, re¯ect the style and `feel' of a much older venue. For example, Raitz (1995) discusses The Lee County Sports Complex, which opened in March 1991. In the design of this ballpark, Raitz (ibid.: xiii) suggests that the architects attempted to create a venue that resembled the `small, classic city parks of the 1920s'. The day after the stadium was opened the New York Times carried an article praising the design and individuality of this venue and calling for `more odd ball parks' (ibid). However, what supporters are presented with is a re-creation and simulation of the historic sport venue, and hence, history (or at least a sense of history) itself has become commodi®ed and sold to supporters as part of the àuthentic' experience of the `live' stadium. As Gruneau and Whitson (1993) suggest, `nostalgia' has become a key marketing tool in selling sport to its fans, and it is this commodi®cation of history at the `live' venue that I go on to consider further in chapter ®ve.

Summary Though sport can be, and frequently is, played in numerous informal settings it is the stadiums of contemporary mass spectator sport that this chapter (and the following two) speci®cally focus upon. The contemporary sport venue is where the vast majority of academic considerations of sport fans have focused, and consequently, there exists considerable literature on sport venues and the

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nature and behaviour of fans at these. The three chapters in this part of the book, therefore, primarily provide a brief overview of this literature. However, there exists considerably less academic consideration on the meanings frequently attached to these venues by fans. To this end, and in line with wider developments in contemporary academic discussions of the use of place, the meanings and attitudes of the users of these venues (i.e. the fans) need to be considered in understanding their social signi®cance. It is evident that fans can have a special relationship with the stadiums at which they frequently watch sport. These venues can have great personal and social signi®cance, and as John Bale suggests, this can constitute a topophilic (love of place) relationship. First, for Bale (1993), it is evident that for many fans the sport venue can constitute a site of almost religious signi®cance, as it is here that supporters often go to `worship' the sports that they follow, and frequently, these also become the sites of public grief at times of death and disaster. Second, sport venues can be sites of education, as individuals are often socialized and even ideologically schooled within these. Third, these venues can be viewed as `home' for many fans, and fourth, these homes may hold great sentimental and historical signi®cance for fans. However, the nature of many sport venues is changing signi®cantly, as older stadiums are either redeveloped or replaced by newer venues. Many contemporary sport stadiums have witnessed extensive redevelopment, or have been replaced by new, often out-of-town multipurpose, venues over the past few decades. In part, these developments have occurred owing to wider changes in the nature of late-capitalist societies, such as the increased social importance of consumption, the rise of the service-sector classes, the increased af¯uence of many and the popularity of the car, which have seen consumers much more willing to travel greater distances for their entertainment and much more demanding once they arrive. Consequently, professional sports ®nd themselves competing in a much more competitive market, not only against the growing diversity of sport on offer, but also the comfort and safety of other entertainment sectors, such as theme parks and cinemas. Hence, contemporary sport venues increasingly become developed as multipurpose leisure facilities, offering customers a wide range of consumer products and are designed to maximize pro®t. However, it is important that these developments are not seen wholly as new corporate strategies imposed upon fans, as many older sport stadiums were unpleasant and at times dangerous environments, and the nostalgia expressed for these by many academics and fans alike commonly constitutes little more than an over-romanticization of these often outdated venues.

5

Consumption, spectacle and performance

This chapter considers the associated acts of consumption, spectacle and performance at the contemporary sport venues. The chapter begins by discussing how the contemporary `live' venue has become a site of `conspicuous consumption' (Veblen 1994 [1899]) carrying extensive advertising and providing fans with a large range of merchandise and consumer goods that they can utilize and display around the venue. The chapter then considers that to ensure the continued entertainment and loyalty of fans, many contemporary sport venues have become increasingly spectacular in their presentation of sporting events. Sport venues will frequently employ forms of spectacle, such as cheerleaders, pyrotechnics, laser lights, music and videos, adopted from other forms of entertainment, to ensure fans are entertained and know what to expect. Furthermore, it is suggested that the proliferation of consumer goods and technological advances in the venues have extended the possibilities of fan performances. Though fans have always formed an important part of the spectacle of the `live' sport event, at the contemporary venue fans' performances are extended and expanded through the use of consumer goods, large screen televisions, video and audio-systems.

Consuming place The sport venue has always been a site of consumption. Watching and experiencing the events at sport venues (both on and off the ®eld of play) are in themselves an act of consumption, moreover, most sport events throughout history have involved associated acts of consumption such as eating, drinking and wearing of clothing that signify certain team allegiances. In particular, Holt (1995) provides a detailed consideration of `how consumers consume' drawing on the case of Chicago Cubs fans attending Wrigley Field. Holt suggests that the literature on consumption has tended to view this as a source of experience, integration and/or classi®cation, and he considers the patterns of baseball fans in relation to these three metaphors and adds to this a fourth metaphor of `consumption as play'. First, in relation to consumption as experience, Holt (1995) suggests that individuals will draw on interpretative frameworks in their experience of consumer

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products. For instance, fans' appreciation or evaluation of a game will be based and shaped by shared de®nitions and understandings of baseball, such as its rules and styles of play. Second, consumption can act as a source of integration, such as assimilating people into an existing social grouping. Third, consumption can classify individuals through both the objects that they own and their actions, and this can operate as both a form of af®liation and distinction. Finally, consumption as play, Holt suggests, signi®es how consumption can be drawn on as a resource bringing people together into a community and a source of socializing. Though modern professional sport has always involved these associated acts of consumption, it is evident that in recent decades contemporary sport venues have become increasingly commodi®ed and commercialized environments. Most contemporary sport venues, even those of many minor league and/or amateur sports, carry extensive advertising. These include advertising via billboards, audio-systems, large screen televisions, scoreboards, kit sponsorship, competitions and even sponsorship of the venue's name. Some venues have always been associated with consumer products, for instance Wrigley Field takes its name from the famous family of chewing gum manufacturers, but in recent years the naming of sport venues after sponsors has become increasingly common. For instance, the Reebok and Britannia association football stadiums in Bolton and Stoke (respectively) are just two examples of many venues around the UK (and the world) that carry the names of sponsors. Even team names can become adapted to include corporate sponsorship. For instance, the London based English ruby union team the Harlequins are of®cially referred to with the pre®x of their sponsor's name, NEC. Moreover, associated acts of consumption, such as buying and consuming refreshments and merchandise, have also become more prevalent and are an increasingly signi®cant part of the `live' sport experience. Contemporary sport venues have increasingly become sites of `conspicuous consumption' (Veblen 1994). As Foreman (1997: 34) writes in the English football fanzine When Saturday Comes concerning the design of new association football stadiums: èvery element of the new ground design is geared towards squeezing every penny out of the punters (and that includes far more people than the football fans)'. Giulianotti (1999: 83) suggests that contemporary association football stadiums have been subject to a process of `malli®cation'; in that, these venues increasingly resemble shopping malls, where fans become `window shoppers' who move around the venue perusing the (often extensive) consumer products on sale. Venues will frequently incorporate stores selling branded merchandise, numerous food outlets, prize draw tickets, programme and magazine sellers, with fanzine, fast food and ùnof®cial' merchandise, sellers lining the streets around the venues, and as with shopping malls, become evermore `machines for shopping' (Goss 1993). As Inglis (2001a: 38) suggests:


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. . . going to the traditional twentieth-century sports ground used to be an end in itself. Yet now it's as if you can't possibly be allowed to have a good time unless you're consuming an of®cial brand. `Things are better with Coke' is no longer a mere slogan. It's part of the business plan. As the T-shirt says, Veni, Vidi, Visa: I came, I saw, I did a little shopping. Gruneau and Whitson (1993: 243) suggest that today sport fans are àddressed as free-¯oating consumers rather than customers with assumed loyalties' and that neither teams nor sports can take `brand loyalties' for granted as other teams, sports and forms of leisure and entertainment compete against each other for the consumers' `product preference'. As with shopping malls, the contemporary sport venue seeks to provide `consumers' with a safe, controlled and predictable environment, which will help ensure their continued patronage. As Armstrong (1998: 135±136) argues: . . . the product is presented to the `customer' (no longer a fan) as if it were a hamburger. As the need for consistency and conformity becomes the order of the day, and as the `McDonaldization' of wider society (cf. Ritzer 1994 [1993]) gallops ahead unheeded in British society, the paying match-day consumer is promised a commodi®ed leisure experience for the family that will not require him or her to think or worry about any form of `pollution' from the unsightly. Hence, in many respects the development of new (often out-of-town) sport venues have mirrored and concurred with the growth of shopping malls in many advanced-capitalist societies. Moreover, `shopping' becomes a leisure activity, where we shop to relax and as a form of recreation, while other leisure pursuits increasingly incorporate into them opportunities to shop. Moreover, not only do malls and sport venues share similarities in their design and use, but are also both buildings that are themselves designed to be consumed (Gottdiener 2000). As Reeves (1998: 74) suggests, the shopping mall is a `manufactured product, created on the basis of both a calculated and intuitive sense of what will seduce consumers', and moreover, he argues that shopping malls provide a prototype for other contemporary `public' spaces. Shopping malls provide consumers with `pleasure-zones', an òasis' and `vacation from everyday reality' (Venturi et al. 1972: 53). Similarly, Neilson (1995: 63) suggests that sport venues provide audiences with an experience that, to a certain degree, is placeless and located outside of `. . . its connection to the rest of our lives'. However, I would argue, it is not necessarily the case that contemporary sport venues are now `placeless', but rather (following King 2000b) that their sense of `place', history and tradition have been re-invented and re-imagined (see chapter three). As with numerous other leisure sites, sport venues become increasingly geared towards creating an èxperience' for the paying public to consume. Malls, casinos, theme parks and restaurants, for example, often use `themes' to

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create a concept and experience for the consumer ± such as the music theme of Hard Rock CafeÂs and the ancient Roman themed casino of Caesars Palace in Las Vegas. However, these themes need not be so visibly borrowed from other sources, and themes can be created simply around a type of product or outlet. For instance, the fast-food chain McDonald's has very successfully created a `McDonald's' brand and theme to its restaurants, which is then utilized in its outlets all over the world (Gottdiener 2000). The key to initiating a theme for a leisure site is to create a brand and experience for the consumer, and many sports have proved very successful at creating a brand image, which they can market and sell to supporters all over the world. For instance, the interlocking NY initials used by the New York Yankees baseball team is probably the most widely used sport logo, appearing on all manner of clothing and merchandising (some òf®cial' but many not) the world over. Moreover, it is estimated that 78 per cent of the world's population have heard of Manchester United football club (Football Culture 2001), which to a large extent pays tribute to how effective the club has been in marketing their particular `brand'. Red CafeÂs are now located in Manchester, Dublin and Singapore, with a Manchester United superstore in Kuala Lumpur, while their extensive range of merchandise carrying their famous `red devil' logo is sold all over the world. The sport venue is then the focal point of this multinational brand ± the Mecca towards which all merchandising points. Though some venues have taken on the brand names of other products (such as the Reebok Stadium Bolton), others have turned their stadium into a brand itself and adopted a name that re¯ects this. For instance, when Sunderland AFC moved from their original home Roker Park their new venue was given the more imaginative title of the Stadium of Light. Moreover, the name Old Trafford, which simply describes the location of Manchester United's stadium, has become far too dull to re¯ect the image the club wishes to display and the new more awe-inspiring name (or subtitle, if you like) of the Theatre of Dreams has been adopted for the stadium. Hence, for certain sports, their marketing and `theme' is based upon selling an image of locality and history. Many sport venues can be visited outside of game times for guided tours, while others incorporate museums that display and highlight the team's past glories; what Giulianotti (1999: 83) describess as the `museumi®cation' of the sport venue. As Bale (1993) suggests (as discussed in chapter four), the history of a sport and its venues have always been part of their appeal, but within the contemporary venue these become evermore commodi®ed and purchasable, through consumer goods, guided tours and museum attractions. For instance, the Theatre of Dreams is sold to visitors as the focal point of Manchester United's community and history. To visit its museum, its cafeÂ, multiple (and very large) club stores, to take the guided tour or even go to watch a game (if you can get a ticket), is to witness the site of many historic victories (the defeats are forgotten more readily), to see history in the making, to be part of the dream and to say to others Ì was there'.


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However, the selling of history and tradition is not evident in the marketing (and `theme') of all sports. In particular, certain `new' or ìmported' sports, such as ice hockey in the UK, have been successfully stripped of their (relatively) little history and sold as easily accessible entertainment events, open to a free¯oating consumer public, who can `buy into' these with little (or no) knowledge of its history or even rules (Crawford 2002). As Dave Biggar1 (the ®rst Director of Marketing at the British ice hockey team the Shef®eld Steelers) suggested: . . . it was a case of `so, it's another show', in inverted commas. That's all it is . . . [. . .] . . . it's fast, it's violent, it's breathtaking, it's skilful, it's got all of that, and òh by the way, it's a hockey game'. So, once you've taken the hockey side out of it, all you've got is an event that people should go to because of its own individual attributes, irrespective of the sport itself . . . [. . .] . . . We just went in with the Disney, concert mentality. Give them the entertainment package, make it cheap enough, get 'em hooked . . . [. . .] . . . Nobody wants to be educated in their time off. They just want to have fun, laughs, jokes, giggles and a good time (cited in Crawford 2002: 31). Moreover, these are not mutually exclusive. The increasing commodi®cation of sport offers the contemporary consumer the opportunity to buy into the sport at whichever level they choose. The new or more casual supporter may be encouraged to attend a `live' event by being given the impression that this is a safe, friendly, open environment, which requires no sacri®ce or commitment on their behalf. However, if the venue operators and team owners are to ensure `brand loyalty' from their customers, it is important that they make the `consumer' feel like a `fan'. This, of course, the individual can achieve through purchasing further consumer goods and regularly attending the sport venue. For it is through consumer goods that the `fan' can increase their knowledge, and more importantly, display their commitment through conversation and the consumer goods they own and display, which allows them to progress along their individual career path and feel increasingly integrated within their chosen supporter community. For crucially, this is what the contemporary sport venue sells. In an increasingly unsafe, insecure and individualized world, the contemporary sport venue provides a sense of community and belonging ± be it a community you can buy into with limited knowledge and commitment once a week or a much deeper sense of belonging and commitment, the consumer goods exist for you to achieve this. Hence, sport venues become tourist attractions, places to be visited and experienced. However, this experience is not an end in itself, but is rather part of a wider process of collecting experiences (Rinehart 1998: 16). As with Urry's `post-tourists' (1990) the contemporary `live' sport experience is not simply about attending a venue, but rather about collecting an experience. The contemporary consumer experience becomes characterized by the T-shirt slogan `been there, did that' (Rinehart 1998: 1). Moreover, actually to have a

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T-shirt (or similar piece of merchandise) to prove that you've `been there' and `done that' (such as one of the numerous `Theatre of Dreams' T-shirts sold at Old Trafford) allows the individual to carry these experiences away with them in their branded carrier bags. Hence, attending the contemporary sport venue is not only about `been there, done that', but also increasingly about the ability to demonstrate this via collectable consumer goods and experiences.

Spectacle and performance Wann (1995) and Wann et al. (2001) suggest that the single most important factor in motivating supporters to attend (and to continue to attend) a `live' sport event is to be entertained. However, within late-capitalist societies, consumers have a much wider range of activities on which to spend their disposable income. Hence, contemporary sports ®nd themselves competing for consumers in an increasingly overcrowded entertainment market, where the consumer now has far more variety to pick and choose from. Even if that individual chooses to spend their time and money on attending a `live' sport event, the increased number of sports available, coupled with increased ease of mobility to surrounding areas, means that certain sports no longer have a monopoly on allegiances of local sport fans. Hence, contemporary sport, competing in such a ®erce entertainment market, must ensure that customers are (and remain) entertained. In particular, Neilson (1995) suggests that newer, more casual, sport supporters are unlikely to wish to continue attending a sport or sport venue if they are not entertained. As he suggests in relation to baseball: Since the idea persists among casual fans that baseball, with its pauses and intermittent rhythms, is `boring', management vied for the attention of this wider audience by ®lling in the empty spaces between the concentrated bursts of action with televised ®llers. So, prepackaged baseball programs ®ll the long, slow hour of batting and in®eld practice. Important games in other cities are screened via satellite hookup. The interval between innings is ®lled with replayed highlights and ± another breakthrough in cultural history of baseball ± commercials, all accompanied by rock music (ibid: 66). The presentation of sport events will often copy the presentation styles and successes of other sports and forms of entertainment. Hence, the style of presentation and entertainment offered at the majority of sports and venues becomes increasingly similar across all major sports and in most advanced-capitalist societies around the world. For instance, it is increasingly common to see large television screens playing video clips and advertisements in the many sport venues around the world, also the use of audio clips (often soft-rock songs), cheerleaders and mascots can be found at many different sports in many different locations.


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This relates most notably to the work of Maguire (1994) on the globalization of sport. Maguire suggests that the globalization of sport involves the concurrent process of `diminishing contrasts' and ìncreasing varieties'. Maguire (1994) suggests that there is occurring a gradual process of `commingling' of patterns of conduct, where socially inferior groups mimic and adopt the practices and cultures of the dominant group ± diminishing contrasts. Further, Maguire suggests, that this process is (to some extent) two-way and that there will be a back ¯ow of cultures and practices from the subordinate groups towards the dominant cultures and groups, resulting in increased variety within the dominant and subordinate cultures ± increasing varieties. This theorization, when applied to sport, suggests that the variety of sports available in different nations and locations around the world has increased, as sports from different cultures are made available to a wider audience. However, at the same time the nature of these sports becomes increasingly similar the world over, as the style of these sports is copied from the most dominant and successful cultures. For instance, Kivinen et al. (2001) and Crawford (2002) have both identi®ed how the popularity of ice hockey in Britain has been largely reliant on Northern American personnel and in¯uence. However, it is not just styles of play and personnel that show diminishing contrasts between nations. As Appadurai (1990) suggests, as well as ¯ows of individuals around the world (what he calls èthnoscapes') there are also ¯ows of technology, ®nances, ideas and media in¯uences (i.e. `technoscapes', `®nacscapes', ìdeoscapes' and `mediascapes'). These lead not only to similarities in styles of play, but also in the ways in which sports are presented at the `live' venue and the forms of additional entertainment used within these. As Rinehart (1998: 7) argues, `sporting experiences . . . have themselves commingled, so that each borrows from and is informed by the other'. For example, the presentation of top-¯ight ice hockey in the UK has many similarities to that witnessed in North America. As Joseph Flanagan, the Marketing Director for the Hartford Civic Center in Connecticut (male, aged c.35) suggested of his visit to an ice hockey game in the UK: I thought it was very similar to what we do here [at Hartford for ice hockey games], with the music. It's funny, 'cause we have a couple of grand-nights, like our opening night, when we do our opening night we . . . [use] dry ice on the court, the house lights go down, there's pyrotechnics, there's ®reworks, laser show, I mean they really go all out and present the kick-off to the season . . . [. . .] . . . For the arena football team we only had seven home games and they did it for every game, the pyro's went off when the players were introduced. We have a jumbotron that gets the audience going, we have two message boards on the inside. It's [in the UK] very similar to what we do here . . . (cited in Crawford 2000: 194). As this quote illustrates, the style and presentation of ice hockey in Hartford in the US was very similar to that seen in the UK, and moreover, also similar to

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the style of presentation of (indoor) American football, which they also host at the Civic Center in Hartford. However, Flanagan suggested that the elaborate use of music and ®reworks seen at ice hockey in the UK, though similar to what they do in the US, was used a lot less frequently at games in North America and reserved more for major games (such as the ®rst game of the season). Though the presentation of ice hockey in the UK does borrow heavily from North America, it is not a direct replication of this, and has many distinct elements. For instance, some ice hockey venues in the UK will employ drummers, and initiate chanting and singing in the arenas. Complex chants and singing are heard less at ice hockey venues in North America, but are more an aspect of British association football audiences which has been adopted into British ice hockey. Hence, in keeping with the theorization of glocalisation suggested by Robertson (1995) the style and presentation of sport within many contemporary sport venues can be seen to draw on a variety of sources, but these are often reinterpreted at a speci®c (local) level. However, it is not just from other sports that the presentation style of the contemporary sport venue borrows, it is also evident that styles of presentation will be adopted from other forms of entertainment, such as theatre and music productions. `The lights, the dusky smoke, the intense sound' as Rinehart (1998: 8) argues àll are theatrical devices' that sport has borrowed. Neilson suggests that the contemporary sport venue borrows heavily from television in its style of presentation. The sport venue not only uses televisual images on its large screens and scoreboards, but also incorporates many other aspects of television-like presentation, including commercial breaks and theme tunes. As television becomes the overriding source of entertainment in latecapitalist society, other forms of entertainment are incorporated into its evergrowing grip. Moreover, as once separate activities such as theatre, music and sport become incorporated into television, likewise these forms of entertainment in their `live' form take on elements of television production and style of presentation. As well as becoming evermore spectacular, theatrical and televisual, the presentation of sport at the contemporary sport venue has also become increasingly predictable. As Neilson (1995: 63) writes of contemporary American baseball: Baseball, like all deliberate systems, tends towards ever-greater regularity, rationality, and predictability. In the business of major league baseball, competing for dollars in a highly articulated market for entertainment and burdened with ever-increasing (albeit self-imposed) ®xed costs, there is little room for unpredictabilities such as snow and rain outs. Speci®cally, here Neilson is discussing the need to overcome the unpredictability of the weather, but there has also been a noticeable trend in recent years to create an increasingly predictable and reliable format at many mass spectator sport events. Though the ®nal result of most sport matches remains


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largely unknown (though often predictable), sport venues will now often employ music, video clips, lights, ®reworks and dancers, to help ensure an atmosphere (and entertainment) within the venue, irrespective of the quality and level of (or sometimes lack of ) excitement of the game being played out. The type of spectacle and entertainment used is also often predictable, and varies little from game to game. For instance, teams will often come out to the same song, week-in week-out. Likewise, the same pieces of music, cheerleader dance routines and video clips will be used after the occurrence of each particular event ± such as a speci®c piece of music played after each goal or point is scored in a game. These are sometimes varied every season, but many will be used for several years. This allows the supporters to learn what to expect at the venue, to be knowledgeable of the events, and even participate within these ± such as singing along to certain pieces of music, or reciting the words to certain video clips. This knowledge and participation allows the supporters to feel a much greater level of belonging and safety ± the entertainment in the venue is something they know, and moreover, it is something they are part of. The presentation and the spectacle within the sport venue should not be viewed as a one-way process of production and consumption, in which the audience constitutes passive consumers of the spectacle ± as the audience themselves often constitute an important role in the creation of the spectacle and atmosphere within the venue. As Bromberger (1993a: 99±100) suggests `the scene of the sporting spectacle, the stadium, is also the scene of a spectacle of a spectacle, offered by its public'. The audience at most mass spectator sports has always had a dual role as consumers and producers of the spectacle within the venue. It is the delight of watching the crowd and experiencing the atmosphere which attracts many supporters to the `live' venue. However, it is the supporters themselves, through their performance (for instance, as part of a `Mexican wave', chanting or singing, displaying ¯ags, banners or using musical instruments), who play a crucial role in generating the spectacle and atmosphere within the venue. Moreover, participation within the crowd can help cement their feelings of belonging and membership of this supporter `community'. The spectacle of the contemporary sport venue shares certain similarities to those encountered within contemporary museums. In that it is people and human achievement that forms the focus of both the museum and the sport venue ± most notably the athletes and players at the sport venue constitute its primary focus, as do the artefacts and displays within the museum. But, as Bennett (1995) argues, it is the visitors and spectators at cultural events and institutions (such as museums) which help generate part of the overall spectacle. Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) argue that as late-capitalist societies become increasingly based upon the spectacle (and the spectacular), the distinction between the performers and the audience begins to blur signi®cantly, as the audience themselves become increasingly part of the performance. Moreover, they suggest (ibid.: 81) that within our contemporary society, narcissism

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has become increasingly prevalent, where the key to contemporary living is to `see and be seen'. In particular, sport audiences are often amongst the most performative, where supporters will often dress-up, sing, play instruments and generally perform to those around them ± as Rinehart (1998: xii) suggests supporters have become part of the performance and hence are themselves `players all'. Moreover, the advent of large screen televisions at many contemporary sport venues allows key performances to become key spectacles; as these are selected by the venue's cameras and displayed on the screens and scoreboards. As Neilson (1995: 66) writes `. . . in the ful®lment of the Warholean prophecy, the camera is turned on the fans themselves, who obediently perform in their brief limelight'. Generally, individuals who are selected and shown on the screens appear to be having a good time. Most wave when they see themselves on the screens, while some may shy away and hide. However, others continue performing undeterred or even increase their activity, as though the camera provides an opportunity to extend their display. Many will `play' to the cameras, by bringing banners, or dressing-up in costumes in an attempt to get on the screen. It could be argued that the performance and spectacle engaged in by many supporters at the sport venue are part of a carnivalesque (Bakhtin 1984) atmosphere that sees the breaking down of societal norms of public behaviour. Supporters delight in the spectacle and carnival-like atmosphere of the venue as they move through and within the crowd. They engage in performance, and observe other performances, such as chanting, blowing of hooters and banging drums. However, as I will argue in the following chapter, this is often (and increasingly) a controlled and disciplined carnival, which licenses certain behaviour, such as encouraging (restrained) singing and dancing, but strictly regulates and sanctions other forms of behaviour, such as violent or rowdy behaviour, and at some venues, even smoking or drinking alcohol. Only certain behaviour is tolerated within the contemporary sport venue, and through watching the spectacles and performances of others, supporters will often learn what is acceptable. When this interlocks with the powerful mechanisms of the constant surveillance individuals are under from other supporters, venue staff, and at certain sites, CCTV, the police and even the army, supporters are placed as both the subject and object of the interlocking and controlling in¯uences of surveillance within the venue, which act as powerful means of regulating behaviour. Moreover, the carnival of the contemporary sport venue is an increasingly commodi®ed activity. Once inside the venue, to be part of a choir of singing voices on a banked football terrace requires no further economic outlay, but in a society and culture that demands the increasingly spectacular, merely singing or chanting appears evermore redundant when retail outlets offer so many more spectacular and novel ways of extending the supporters' performance. Club merchandise, such as replica team shirts, banners, hats, hooters, foam hands, pennants, scarves, face paints or any other number of items, all usually available within the venue's club shops or high street stores, provide resources


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and fuel supporters' performances. Even forms of performance created by the supporters are often commodi®ed and sold back to them. A good illustration of this is the area of the Cleveland Browns Stadium that has come to be known as the `Dawg Pound'. Delaney (2001) suggests that this originated from fans mimicking the `barking' of two former defensive backs (Minni®eld and Dixon) and this expanded into fans bringing dog related items and paraphernalia into the stadium. However, since then, the `Dawg Pound' phenomenon has been fully commodi®ed, with dog masks, T-shirts and all variety of both òf®cial' and unof®cial Cleveland Browns merchandising adopting this idea and selling it back to the fans. However, not all performances need necessarily be overtly spectacular. Merely displaying one's knowledge and commitment to a particular sport through conversation and recall can be seen as a form of performance. Again however, it is consumer goods and the proliferation of the mass media increasingly into our everyday lives which frequently provides the information and resources to inform the supporter's performance ± as books, magazines, television and television text services, radio, videos and the Internet all provide information and resources to fuel supporters' performances. These consumer and media based resources on which supporters draw are not only encountered in the `live' venue, but are also `diffused' into everyday life. Supporters can carry with them the information and consumer goods they have acquired at the `live' venue and utilize these in performances in their everyday lives. Likewise, information and sport coverage are readily available via numerous mass media sources, while sport related consumer goods are easily obtainable in most high streets. Hence, supporters become increasingly part of a `diffused audience', as they become both performers and spectators of performance not only at the `live' venue or via the mass media, but also in their everyday lives away from these (Abercrombie and Longhurst 1998).

Summary Contemporary sport venues have become increasingly commercialized and commodi®ed sites. Most major venues will carry extensive advertising, while it is also increasingly common for teams and venues to be named after corporate sponsors. Sport venues have become sites of `conspicuous consumption' (Veblen 1994), selling merchandising and other associated consumer goods, which fans consume and display around the venue. These will also frequently become `themed', selling an image and experience that contemporary consumers can buy into and `collect'. Some sports have been disconnected from their history and even location, as these are sold to newer more af¯uent and mobile audiences, while for others history and nostalgia are used as an important selling point of a sport. However, these are not mutually exclusive and many contemporary sports are able to sell fans involvement at the level they desire. Contemporary sports ®nd themselves competing in an increasingly overcrowded entertainments market, and to help ensure continued customer loyalty,

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it is important that sport can provide audiences with guaranteed comfort, entertainment and spectacle. Frequently, sport venues will employ mechanisms of entertainment that have been seen to work in other sports and leisure sites, resulting in an increasing similarity of styles of presentation across many sports and nations. This presentation also becomes increasingly predictable, allowing supporters to feel con®dent that they are going to be entertained (irrespective of the ®nal result) and breeding familiarity, which encourages fans to feel a greater sense of belonging. Audiences have always constituted an important part of the performance at the `live' sport venue, but at contemporary venues the supporters' ability to perform has been greatly extended. The proliferation of consumer goods allows supporters to display and perform their allegiances outwardly for all to see, while technological advances, such as big screen televisions, extend these spectacles and performances for all to see. It is suggested that these displays could be seen as a form of the carnivalesque (Bakhtin 1984), however, as will be argued in the following chapter this is a very controlled and regulated carnival.

6

Social control and supporter violence

There is evidence to suggest that unrest and even violence has occurred at mass spectator sports since ancient times. For instance, Guttman's (1986: 17) consideration of the ancient Grecian Olympic games discusses the ùninhibited', `volatile' and sometimes `disorderly conduct' of spectators. The response of the Grecians to this disorder appears to be one replicated throughout much of history, as `whip-bearers' and `truncheon-bearers' (or mastigophoroi and rabdouchoi, as Guttman informs us) were employed to discourage, restrain and, if necessary, beat over-exuberant spectators to ensure their control. There has already been a great deal written on the subject of supporter violence, and in particular `football hooliganism'. Though no consideration of contemporary sport fans would be complete without at least a cursory look at this literature, I wish to argue that for far too long academic attention has focused upon extreme cases of supporter violence, largely at the expense of considering more òrdinary' forms of sport support. This chapter begins by presenting a summary of `psychological' and `sociological' approaches to supporter violence as set out by Wann et al. (2001). Then, drawing most notably on the work of Armstrong (1998) and Giulianotti (1999), I provide a brief summary of the dominant theories on football hooliganism, and most notably the work of Taylor, Marsh and `The Leicester School'. Finally, I consider the nature of social control at the contemporary sport venue, and suggest that though social control based upon `direct action' and ìdeological schooling' are still apparent, it is more subtle forms of social control, such as those based upon surveillance, that are becoming increasingly dominant at many major league sport venues. Once more, my argument is that too often theorizations of supporter behaviour have been based upon linear zero-sum frameworks of power, and I suggest that discussions of social power need to recognize their ¯uidity and how they frequently operate through rather than on individuals.

Supporter violence There exist numerous theories to explain why violence occurs at sport. In particular, Wann et al. (2001) offer a good overview of some of these theories under the headings of `psychological' and `sociological' approaches to ùnderstanding

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spectator aggression'. These psychological theories include `the frustration± aggression hypothesis', which originates in the work of Dollard et al. (1939) and suggests that aggression occurs when people are blocked, thwarted or frustrated in some way in their efforts to achieve a goal (Wann et al. 2001: 108). Bandura's (1973) `social learning theory' argues that while biological factors do in¯uence behaviour, it is through observing, mimicking and learning from others that individuals learn behaviour (including aggressive and violent conduct) that can then be initiated through various incentives such as frustration, annoyance or being ordered to do so. Wann's (1993) own work on `highly-identi®ed fans' (i.e. those who identify most closely with their chosen sport) suggests that supporters can have their self-esteem damaged by their team's failures, and may seek to maintain their self-image by taking out their aggression on opposition supporters, players or the like. Finally, Wann et al. consider Apter's (1992) argument that in contemporary society the opportunities for risk taking have deteriorated, and sport events provide individuals with a need for excitement that is often lacking in other aspects of life. Under the heading of `sociological approaches to understanding spectator aggression', Wann et al. consider the theories of collective behaviour and issuerelevant versus issue-irrelevant spectator aggression ± though I would suggest these are far more social-psychology, than sociology. In relation to `collective behaviour' theories, they ®rst consider the `contagion and convergence theories' of the likes of Le Bon (1946), which suggest that the ìdeas, moods, attitudes, and behaviours' of an individual or group can become `rapidly communicated and uncritically accepted by [other] crowd members' (ibid.: 120±121). Second, Wann et al. consider the related arguments of èmergent-norms theory', which suggests that the norms of a group elicit a certain degree of conformity and adherence to these from its members. Ìssue-relevant' theories include explanations of sport supporter aggression, which blame a variety of social factors such as lack of strong negative sanctions against perpetrators, the decline of a civil society and associated lack of regard for others' well-being, the rise of single (read: fatherless) families, and the general view that we live in an increasingly violent society. Ìssue-irrelevant' factors, include the in¯uence of crowding (and the anonymity of the crowd) in generating aggression, and the nature of the event itself ± such as the general entertainment and atmosphere evident at most sport events. However, though Wann et al. (2001) dedicate around a third of their book Sport Fans to the consideration of `spectator aggression', they assert that several studies have shown that spectator aggression is actually quite unusual, and particularly so in North America, where they suggest `fan violence' is `relatively infrequent' (ibid.: 102). Moreover, they suggest that it is association football (a sport with a relatively low pro®le in North America), which is most frequently the site of spectator violence, but provide little consideration of this case, except for a list of references and further reading on the subject. It is evident that there exist numerous sociological (and likewise biological, psychological and journalistic) considerations of football hooliganism, and


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good overviews and critiques of the dominant sociological theorizations in this area are offered by Armstrong (1998) and Giulianotti (1999) (amongst others), and hence here I do not wish to dedicate too much time and space rehashing a debate that has already been extensively considered by numerous other authors. However, as Wann et al. (2001: 93) suggest, supporter violence (and in particular football hooliganism) is probably the most well researched and widely debated aspect of sport fan behaviour, and hence it is important that a brief overview of some of these debates is offered here. Football hooliganism Giulianotti (1999) suggests that the sociology of association football in the UK since the 1960s has been most closely associated with the study of `football hooliganism'. In particular, Clarke (1992) has suggested that the study of football fans has focused almost exclusively on the study of hooliganism. Since the early 1990s focus on sport fans has (to some degree) began to diverge away from this academic ®xation (particularly in the UK) with football hooliganism. However, as Giulianotti (1999: 39) argues, though some `scholars might prefer to close the debates on fan violence and move on to examine different football related issues', the consideration of football hooliganism still remains a topical and current debate within academic literature, as well as the mass media and public at large. The ®rst two examinations of football hooliganism in the UK were the Harrington and Lang reports published in 1968 and 1969, respectively. The Harrington Report (1968) is seen as the ®rst serious attempt at considering the causes of football supporter violence, and was commissioned by the Ministry of Sport in the UK. The conclusion of this report was that violence at football matches occurred due to the loss of control and immaturity of a few young violent men; however, the lack of consideration of wider social factors and in¯uences saw this report heavily criticized, even at its time of publication (Taylor 1969). In 1969 a second report was commissioned by the Government and a working party was set up, consisting of various football and police representatives (but notably no academics) and chaired by Sir John Lang. However, focus once more was placed upon individual perpetrators and attention placed upon control and punishment, rather that attempting to understand the social causes of this violence. The ®rst academic consideration of football hooliganism, and a direct response to the Harrington and Lang reports, was the work of Ian Taylor. Taylor (1969, 1971) attempted to locate the occurrence of football hooliganism within wider economic and social changes within British society. Taylor argued that where once the football club existed as a focus of local working class identity, the high-jacking of the sport by new commercial interests and a general `bourgeoisi®cation' of the game (characterized by rising players' wages, involvement of big businesses in the running of football, and an in¯ux of new `middle class' supporters) had seen its traditional working class (most often young

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male `lumpen' proletariat) followers increasingly isolated and alienated from what was once `their' sport. The ensuing violence Taylor viewed as working class `resistance' to this processes of bourgeoisi®cation, and an attempt by these young working class men to reassert their ownership of football. Taylor's position on hooliganism notably changed in the 1980s and 1990s, when increasingly it became apparent that hooligan activities were not solely the preserve of working class `roughs', and Taylor (1982, 1987, 1989) recognized the presence of some more af¯uent (middle class) individuals within hooligan groups. It is at this point Giulianotti (1999: 41) suggests that Taylor abandons his view of hooligans as `resistance ®ghters', to take up the stance of seeing them as a `serious social menace'. Another prominent academic perspective offered on football hooliganism is that of Peter Marsh. Marsh (1978) adopted a social psychological approach and argued that àggro' is an expected and accepted part of football culture, as it is in many aspects of human society. Marsh suggested that hooligans existed within an organized culture, where individuals were socialized along a `career' path (see chapter two) into their hooligan roles. These individuals would engage in (often highly) organized and ritualized àggressive' behaviour, such as chanting or threatening behaviour, but actual violence at football was a rare occurrence (the seriousness of which was often ampli®ed by the police, mass media and relevant authorities). But as with the Harrington (1968) and Lang (1969) reports, the work of Marsh has been criticized for overlooking wider social issues, and in particular, concerns relating to class and masculinity. Probably the most dominant theorization of football hooliganism was developed by a group of academics at Leicester University, who most notably included Eric Dunning, Patrick Murphy and John Williams. The approach of `The Leicester School' was to adopt a `®gurational' approach, which draws heavily on the work of the one-time Leicester scholar Norbert Elias. Elias' (1978) basic premise was that within society people are linked through numerous social networks (`®gurations') that cross-cut time and place. However, of particular relevance to this discussion is Elias' (1978) theorization of the `civilization process', in which Elias suggests that Western societies since the Middle Ages have been undergoing a process of `civilization' ± which has seen changing social norms and regulations, particularly in relation to the increased privatization of the body and an increasing intolerance towards acts of violence. Following on from Elias, Dunning et al. (1987) suggest that supporter behaviour at football has undergone a process of civilization. They suggest that at the turn of the twentieth century, violence at football matches was `relatively high' (Giulianotti 1999: 45). However, over time football crowds have become generally more `civilized' and `respectful' in their behaviour, and hence audiences (as well as the general public) have become more sensitized to acts of violence and aggression. The occurrence of violence at contemporary football is then explained as a `decivilizing spurt', or a throw back to a less civilized era, and is most frequently conducted by the lower working classes1 who trail behind at the rear of this civilizing process. Violence is also seen as a wider


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`quest for excitement', in that individuals have certain socially constructed psychological needs, the excitement for battle being one of these. However, in a highly developed and `civilized' society the sites to express these needs become increasingly restricted, and sport (both as participants and spectators) presents one of the few arenas where these needs can be socially expressed. Other theories on the causes of football hooliganism have included subculturalist approaches such as Clarke (1973) and Hall (1978). Hall (1978) and his colleagues at the University of Birmingham identi®ed the emergence of a number of new football subcultures during the 1970s, and suggested that the `football hooligan' developed as a form of `folk devil' (Cohen 1972) within these. Furthermore, Whannel's (1979) application of `deviance ampli®cation' theories suggests that though violence has existed at football for as long as the game itself, it is not until the 1960s that the category `football hooligan' emerged as a `folk devil' and associated `moral panic' within the British press. However, in spite of there now existing a large (and still growing) volume of theoretical approaches to the understanding of football hooliganism, Armstrong (1998: 14) suggests that little academic research has sought to witness hooligan behaviour ®rst hand. Moreover, as Brimson (2001: 198) argued: If writing about hooliganism has taught me one thing, it's that the vast majority of supposedly factual information to be found which deals with it is based upon opinion, rumour or presumption. Often, it's nothing more than a combination of all three. Armstrong (1998) indicates that `hooliganism' does not refer to any speci®c criminal offence, and is merely a concept applied by academics, the mass media and general public to various forms of aggressive and violent behaviour that takes place out of context. The concept of `violence' itself is a social construct, and means little more than a physical confrontation, taking place in the `wrong place between the wrong people' (ibid.: 295). Armstrong (1998) also questions the assertion that so-called `hooligans' occupy a highly organized social group. Giulianotti (1999) suggests that `hooligan' formations tend to have relatively low turnover, with the majority of those involved in supporter violence having been known `faces' on the scene for many years (even decades), and suggests that the best way of theorizing these groups is as `neo-tribes' (Maffesoli 1996). That is to say, hooligan groups tend to constitute relatively loose structures, and most frequently constitute little more than a loose network or group of friends. As Armstrong (1998: 306) suggests, such `tribal gatherings' have `little cohesion, structure, obligations or rites of passage' and their `boundaries are vague and self-de®nition never ceases'. As Giulianotti (1999: 49) suggests: . . . for anyone who really meets with the hooligan groups themselves, what is most striking is the ordinariness of it all. A ®rst glance at their clothes, girlfriends, parents, homes, cars, jobs, wider environment and

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Part III: The sport venue leisure interests, testi®es comprehensively to the mundane, even banal lifestyles of those who are well incorporated into mainstream UK society.

Following Marsh (1978), Armstrong and Giulianotti (amongst numerous others) assert that the actual occurrence of violence between football supporters is relatively infrequent, and in particular `pitched battles' between rival hooligan gangs still remain `surprisingly rare' (Giulianotti 1999: 52). As Inglis (2001b: 87) wrote: Forgive me for yawning but really, hooliganism? . . . without wishing to appear complacent, I've been going to football more or less every week since 1967 and cannot recall witnessing a single serious outbreak of ®ghting, off the pitch that is, either in or around a British football stadium since, I don't know when. However, football hooliganism continues to provide a popular topic for both academic analysis and mass media discussions. In recent years, football hooliganism has also proved a popular genre for the entertainment industries, with numerous ®lms, books (both ®ction and non-®ction) and even digital games ± and it is this commodi®cation of football hooliganism that I consider in more detail in chapter nine.

The social control of supporters The policing of association football matches in Britain dates as far back as the nineteenth century. Guttman (1986: 105) recounts how the `lawless rabble' of football supporters in the 1880s led to the introduction of segregated seating, turnstiles, security guards and an eventual police presence, at many football grounds around Britain. This attitude towards crowd management of segregating supporters into different priced and opposing team sections of the venue, and seeking to maintain order with a visible threat of direct force from security staff and police, was utilized at association football grounds in Britain throughout most of the twentieth century and continues to be the most basic and common form of social control at most sport venues around the world. However, the rising concern of `football hooliganism' in the post-war period in Britain led to the introduction of cages, pens and a much higher police presence at many association football grounds around Britain from the late-1960s onwards. As suggested by Whannel (1979) the attitude of many within government, the mass media and football authorities alike was that the `hooligan problem' was one that was racing out of control, and that these `thugs' needed to be caged in, like wild animals, to ensure their control. From the 1970s many football stadiums in Britain installed `police control rooms', from which the movement of police could be coordinated and their effectiveness in controlling and herding supporters maximized (Inglis 2001b). However, the introduction of pens and cages at sport venues may have had the effect of actually increasing


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supporter solidarity with those they were caged with and an increased intensity of rivalry against the opposition fans from whom they were kept separate within the ground (Bowden 1995). The use of cages and pens spread from Britain and association football to other countries (particularly in mainland Europe) and sports, but was not as commonplace as those seen at the majority of major association football stadiums in Britain during the 1970s and 1980s. However, the cages and pens ®nally began to be removed from sport venues in Britain (and beyond) after a series of stadium disasters in the 1980s, most notably at Hillsborough in Shef®eld in 1989. At Hillsborough overcrowding within a caged area at the Leppings Lane end of the ground led to the death of 96 football supporters (see Ian Taylor 1991). The subsequent government report conducted by Lord Justice Taylor (1990) made recommendations on ground redevelopment under 76 different headings, and most notably advised the replacement of standing-room only areas (terracing) with all-seater stadiums. Similar sentiments were echoed by both FIFA and UEFA, as terracing and cages at football grounds around the world began to be removed when stadiums were either redeveloped or replaced by new all-seater venues (Bowden 1995). The primary emphasis of British government legislation on the hosting of major sport events had previously been placed upon safety within sport venues, but a notable shift in the 1980s occurred as new laws were introduced in England that increasingly focused more speci®cally on the control and regulation of supporters. The Sports Event Act of 1985 made it an offence to take alcohol into English football stadiums, to try to enter a stadium drunk, for alcohol to be served within sight of the playing area, or even to have alcohol in a vehicle travelling to a game. The Public Order Act (1986) banned the possession of ®reworks or similar objects, and introduced Èxclusion Orders' where supporters could be legally banned from attending football matches. However, with the removal of cages from many English football stadiums, further laws were introduced in the late 1980s and 1990s to regulate supporter behaviour. Most notably, The Football Offences Act (1991) banned the throwing of missiles, indecent or racist chanting and made it an offence for supporters to go on to the playing area. However, Green®eld and Osborn (2001) suggest that this law has been employed most notably to restrict supporter movements and keep them within their allocated seating areas (and off the pitch), with comparatively fewer convictions being brought to control the throwing of missiles and offensive chanting. Though successive British governments have argued that the sheer volume of laws governing sport venues (and more speci®cally football stadiums) exists to ensure the safety of fans, it is evident that the vast majority of these deal primarily with the control and regulation of all supporters and not just so-called `hooligans' (Green®eld and Osborn 2001: 34). The redevelopment and building of new sport venues are now designed and managed in ways that are not speci®cally geared towards dealing with a small minority of `violent' fans, but rather the control and regulation of all fans (Inglis 2001b).

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Bannister et al. (1998) suggest that urban spaces are now often more tightly controlled and monitored than ever before. Rather than witnessing a removal of mechanisms of social control, what has occurred with the redevelopment and changing nature of the contemporary sport venue is a movement away from highly visible and direct forms of social control and containment, towards more subtle forms of ideological schooling and most notably mechanisms of surveillance and social discipline. This is not to say that direct action, and in particular the threat of direct action, is no longer utilized within contemporary sport venues. As suggested earlier, the use of security staff (be these a private security company or statefunded police) often constitute the most visible form of social control utilized within the sport venue. Sport venues will usually employ security staff, often made very apparent by visible uniforms, who will patrol the venue and stand between opposing groups of fans or between the supporters and the ®eld of play. Security staff present a visible threat of direct action, which if more subtle forms of social control fail, provide the physical means to prevent individuals from engaging in certain behaviour ± be this by merely asking them to refrain from certain acts, or by physically restraining or removing individuals from the premises. Moreover, the presence of security staff also provides a sense of safety and security ± particularly for family groups. Though security staff at most games and venues are present in small numbers, their visibility helps create a sense of safety within the venue. This is particularly the case with private security staff, who are often given the less threatening title of `stewards'. Stewarding gives the impression of being on hand to ensure that everyone has a good time, that people can ®nd their seats and that nobody engages in àntisocial' behaviour. Moreover, stewarding does not generate the same feelings of containment and potential danger that the presence of the police often can, and presents a much `friendlier' face of social control. Many venues will also actively seek to employ female stewards, based on the gendered view that the audience will see them as less confrontational. This style of presenting social control with a `friendly face' is particularly evident at many theme parks. As Lyon (2001: 56) argues, `Disneyland itself is safe and squeaky clean because it is patrolled by innocent looking extras who maintain constant surveillance'. Though security staff continue to constitute the most visible and probably oldest form of social control at the sport venue (see Guttman 1986), social control also operates at much more subtle levels. In particular, there has been a signi®cant shift in patterns of social control away from reactive towards preventive strategies, which seek to predict and prevent certain behaviour from occurring (McCahill 1998). One such mechanism of ensuring social compliance within contemporary sports is the application of forms of social control based upon ideological forms of power, and in particular educating supporters in àppropriate' patterns of behaviour. It is evident, as discussed in chapter four, that the contemporary sport venue frequently constitutes a site of èducation'. For instance, Bale


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(1993) suggests that at the contemporary sport venue spectators are taught the value of physical achievement and provided with role models to emulate. However, Bale (1993) suggests that sport venues are also frequently sites of `hegemonic schooling'. Moreover, as contemporary sport venues increasingly attempt to market themselves towards a more af¯uent consumer-based market, it is important that they create a `safe' `family-friendly' environment, in which the `consumer' will feel relaxed enough to spend their money and want to return. Numerous studies including Thompson (1983), Bennett (1983), Shearing and Stenning (1985) and King (1998) argue that it is the contemporary nuclear family unit that has become the focus of both consumer society and social regulation. Increasingly, consumer goods, such as the `family ticket', `family meal', `family pack', are targeted towards this basic unit of consumer society. It is to the family unit, both in the home and outside of this, that consumption is increasingly aimed, and likewise, it is towards this audience that many contemporary sport and sport venues (along with many other forms of entertainment) have increasingly marketed themselves. The presence of increasing numbers of family units at the contemporary sport venues allows for far greater levels of social control than ever before. On one level, the presence of families at the sport venue encourages supporters to accept far greater levels of social control, as the rhetoric of maintaining a `family' environment is employed to ensure that supporters are not only subjected to greater levels of discipline, but moreover, are more willing to accept these. Furthermore, family units are to a large degree self-regulatory. As Clarke and Critcher (1985: 164) argue, the family is highly ef®cient in absorbing in¯uences from their social context, and internalizing patterns of accepted behaviour ± as each member of the family watches and sanctions the actions of the other members. Hence, the contemporary sport venue enforces social control through both the threat of direct action and ideological schooling. However, I wish to suggest that the need for ideological and direct forms of social control become less apparent as audiences become more self-regulating and accepting of what is deemed àppropriate' behaviour. This increase in the levels of self-regulation and adoption of acceptable patterns of behaviour has occurred owing to the increased levels of surveillance now seen at many major contemporary sport venues. A certain level of surveillance has probably always existed within the sport venue. Most formal venues, even in ancient times, consisted of structures that faced inwards, making supporters visible to others around the venue ± though how visible depended to a large degree on the density and size of the crowd. Furthermore, the use of police and security staff to keep a watchful eye over the crowd also dates back to ancient times (see Guttman 1986). However, the surveillance of supporters within the contemporary sport venue has taken on a much more systematic and structured nature, particularly with the advent of new technologies, such as closed circuit television (CCTV).

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The use of CCTV and cameras to control and monitor supporter behaviour dates back several decades. Armstrong (1998) examines the use of police photographers and mobile camera units to record the activities of `football hooligans' in Britain in the 1980s, likewise Giulianotti (1999) discusses the use of vans with large turret-mounted cameras (`hoolivans') by the police in Britain in the early 1980s to record association football supporters. However, with advances in technology, the placement and use of CCTV cameras in contemporary sport venues has become far more subtle and widespread. Giulianotti (1999: 82) suggests that the use of CCTV within contemporary association football stadiums in Britain is now `cutting edge' and employs high levels of technological surveillance. For instance, CCTV cameras can employ facial-recognition technology, which identi®es `known offenders' and can alert the relevant authorities. Furthermore, during the European (association football) Championships in England in 1996, the police unveiled the use of `photophones', which could transmit the images of `known hooligans' around the stadium in seconds (Armstrong 1998). Camera technology is constantly evolving as cameras become more powerful and much smaller and are often hidden behind smoked glass, so no supporter can ever know if or when they are being observed. It is not just in the control of `football hooligans' or in British association football stadiums that CCTV cameras are now being employed, but increasingly CCTV is becoming part of many urban areas, including other major sport venues. However, again the rhetoric used to justify the proliferation of CCTV is that these are being used to create `safer' environments. As Lyon (2001: 62) writes: to create safe, secure and attractive places for consumption, entertainment and tourism, many cities ± especially in the UK ± have turned to a camera system. The logic appears to be that if you have `nothing to hide' then you have `nothing to fear' from the gaze of CCTV. The argument that high levels of surveillance are employed for the supporters' (shoppers', residents', workers', or whoever they may be watching) own security and comfort has seen their widespread acceptance ± as `surveillance always carries with it some plausible justi®cation that makes most of us content to comply' (Lyon 2001: 3). Hence, the omnipresence of surveillance systems becomes increasingly accepted and standard, but as Norris and Armstrong (1998: 6) argue `. . . the power of surveillance is not merely that it is exercised over someone but through them . . . Surveillance therefore involves not only being watched but watching over one's self '. As with Bentham's (1914) panopticon prison, the controlling gaze of systems of surveillance becomes normal to those under observation (Foucault 1979). Hence, individuals become self-regulatory, monitoring their own behaviour out of the knowledge (or fear) that they may be being watched. As Armstrong (1998: 136) writes `controlled by panoptical CCTV surveillance, the aim is to make


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discipline automatic: behaviour is normalized, with the audience reacting in a manner predictable to the point of docility . . .'. Taken from Giddens (1991), Giulianotti (1999: 81) argues that within the contemporary sport venue, there has been a `privatization of passion', where the `quasi-religious passion of crowd carnival' has been replaced by a `quieter, more personal or family release of emotions'. The contemporary sport venue offers then a sense of belonging, community and hence safety. However, Bauman (2001) suggests that this safety comes at a price. The `protection' offered by a community demands loyalty and it demands the sacri®ce of certain freedoms. To remain safe, you must be willing to accept greater levels of social control and discipline. Bale (1991) argues that the sport stadium of the future will be `placeless', lacking the àuthenticity' of the traditional sport ground, increasingly incorporative of elements of mass media presentation and style, and a site of control and discipline. As he wrote (ibid.: 130) `British football is currently witnessing a series of developments that promise (or threaten) to sever the sports±place bond which has traditionally linked the football club with the locality in which the ground is situated'. Moreover, Bale (1993: 47) sees the introduction of seating for all in the association football stadium as one of the ®rst moves towards an increased level of containment and discipline within the sport stadium; `seating provides spectators with a place of containment'. Modern sport venues, Bale (1993: 40) suggests, will be `dehumanized landscapes', and though these will be safe, comfortable, and convenient, paradoxically, they will be ìnauthentic', `placeless' and `Disney-®ed', leading to dissatisfaction from sport's most `sincere fans'. Bale (1993: 43) argues that his own views of the developments of the contemporary sport venues are neither elitist nor nostalgic, citing the support of à large number of fanzines' that express a `preference for traditional English football grounds'. However, Bale cites no speci®c examples to support this argument, and he appears to accept the views of fanzine editors and contributors as representative of the views of the general populace of association football supporters in Britain. As studies of fanzines have repeatedly shown, the editors and contributors to these disproportionately represent a small, middle class, highly educated minority of supporters (Taylor 1991, King 1998). Hence, I would suggest that Bale (1993, 1998, 2000) presents a largely romanticized view of many older sport venues. Moreover, the perspective that surveillance only creates docile audiences overlooks the level to which this can also help create both spectacle and entertainment. Recent years have seen the rise in popularity of many `caught-oncamera' style television shows, which employ home video and CCTV camera footage as cheap entertainment. Furthermore, the use of ùnsuspecting' audience members as spectacles to display on large screens and scoreboards for the entertainment and amusement of other supporters has become a regular occurrence at many sport venues around the world. It is also by watching the behaviour of others around them that supporters learn and join in with activities and

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celebrations such as songs, chants, dances and `Mexican waves'. However, as suggested in chapter two, the spectacle can also operate as a form of social control, and be used to captivate and seduce individuals, helping bring about their social compliance (see Debord 1967). However, what many authors fail to recognize is that social power does not operate in unitary or linear ways, but in complex and ¯uid patterns. Though forms of social control within the contemporary sport venue may regulate and sti¯e certain forms of behaviour, they can also create a safe environment where people feel free to celebrate and be entertained. It is only by moving away from a zero-sum Hobbesian framework of power (see chapter two) that we can recognize that contemporary sport audiences are neither wholly compliant nor resistant, but are likely to occupy ¯uctuating and at times even contradictory positions of social power, and hence, I suggest we need to move towards an understanding of not how power relations act upon audiences but rather how these are experienced and lived out in people's everyday lives ± and it is to this that I now turn in the following chapters.

Summary This chapter provided a brief overview of some of the dominant literature on supporter violence and the social control of fans at the `live' sport venue. It began by presenting a summary of `psychological' and `sociological' theories of supporter violence, as set out by Wann et al. (2001), who also suggest that supporter violence is `relatively infrequent', and particularly so in North America (ibid.: 102). The chapter then brie¯y considered some of the dominant theories on football hooliganism, focusing most notably on the work of Taylor, Marsh and `The Leicester School'. Drawing on Armstrong (1998) and Giulianotti (1999), it highlighted the very subjective nature of the term `football hooliganism' and again emphasized the degree to which the relatively infrequent occurrence of supporter violence has been disproportionately discussed within the academic literature on sport fans. However, the major arguments set out within this chapter are in relation to the changing nature of patterns of social control at the contemporary sport venue. Here it is suggested that unrest and violence have been present at `live' sport events for much of history, and the response to these has most frequently consisted of direct action or containment. This was particularly evident with association football venues in Britain from the 1960s to the early 1990s, where football fans were frequently contained within caged enclosures and regulated by sizable levels of policing. However, the stadium disasters of the 1980s (and most notably that at Hillsborough in 1989), coupled with the growing commercialization of sport and redevelopment of many sport venues, has seen the focus of social control shift from that of reactive to preventive strategies (McCahill 1998). In particular, many venues have been redeveloped and aimed towards more af¯uent `family-based' audiences, seeing patterns of social control


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moving towards reliance on forms of ìdeological schooling'. For instance, the increased presence of family units allows for justi®cation of greater levels of social control and to a large degree family units are self-regulating, as family members watch over each other's behaviour. It is also suggested that at contemporary sport venues there has been a noticeable shift towards mechanisms of social control based upon surveillance. Most notably, there has been a rapid increase in the number of CCTV systems installed at major sport venues; the technology behind which is forever developing and thus allowing greater levels of surveillance, such as automated facial recognition. Furthermore, the role of stewards shifts from physical control and containment, to watching over, monitoring and singling out those who break from accepted patterns of behaviour. Likewise, the audience themselves become increasingly aware of the limits placed upon their behaviour as they normalize this and in turn watch over and monitor those around them. Though certain authors (such as Bale 1993) have seen these shifts in patterns of social control as creating `placeless' and `Disney-®ed' environments, these tend to overlook that many sport venues were traditionally sites of fear and exclusion for many. The operation of social power is not in itself necessarily `bad', and mechanisms of surveillance can help create safer and more enjoyable locations for many. Hence, it is only in adopting a more ¯uid and post-structural understanding of power that we can understand audience members as neither wholly resistant nor docile and passive dopes, but rather, how power operates through individuals and how audience members can occupy varying and ¯uctuating positions of social power.

Part IV

Everyday life

7

Sport fans and everyday life

In their consideration of different `types' of sport fans, Wann et al. (2001) make a distinction between `direct' and ìndirect' consumers of sport. That is to say, they contrast those supporters who attend and watch a `live' game (direct consumption) with those who follow sport through more distant media sources (indirect consumption). In chapter two I questioned the validity of this distinction, suggesting that both attending a `live' game and connecting with sport away from the `live' venue involves varying levels of mediation, and hence a clear distinction between these two is problematic. However, leaving this criticism aside for a moment, Wann et al. suggest that there is little empirically or theoretically known about ìndirect' consumers of sport. And it is certainly the case that little academic discussion has considered how sport is experienced and consumed in people's everyday lives away from the `live' venue. Moreover, studies of fan cultures tend to focus upon the èxceptional' rather than the `mundane'. This has been true for most studies of media fan culture. For instance, Henry Jenkins' (1992) celebrated consideration of cult television fans, Textual Poachers, focuses primarily on the activities and interests of the most dedicated and `serious' of audiences, and draws a clear distinction between these and the òrdinary' reader who he leaves largely unconsidered. This has also been apparent within the majority of discussions of sport fans, and in particular British sport research, which has tended to focus almost exclusively on èxceptional' (such as `football hooligans') or the most `dedicated' (such as fanzine editors and contributors) types of supporters, at the expense of more òrdinary' fans. Furthermore, research on sport audiences has focused almost exclusively on those who regularly attend `live' sporting events, leaving largely ignored how sport is experienced and consumed in people's everyday lives away from the `live' venues, and in particular overlooks those who do not regularly attend `live' sport. The most obvious reason for this oversight has to do with simple research limitations. Conducting research on those supporters who regularly attend `live' sport events is relatively easy as the researcher has a captive audience. It is comparatively simple to hand out questionnaires or obtain the names and address of people purchasing tickets through ticket agencies or sport clubs. It is also fairly straightforward to obtain research data on the most dedicated of fans

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Part IV: Everday life

as these are the most likely to contribute to fanzines, newspaper letters, Internet sites and web-based discussion boards, and consequently are easy to contact. However, contacting and conducting research on those who rarely (if ever) attend `live' sport, or those who have very little interest or commitment to following sport, can prove extremely problematic as the researcher does not have easy access to a ready-made sample group. Moreover, individuals with little interest in the research area may also prove more reluctant to spare the time to discuss this with a researcher. However, beyond simple issues of access, I would suggest that another key reason why the majority of audience research has focused almost exclusively on èxceptional' and/or `dedicated' fans is the tendency of a large proportion of audience research to be located theoretically around debates of incorporation and/or resistance to patterns of dominant ideology (see chapter two). Hence, it is the actions and interests of the most dedicated of fans that are most frequently studied and discussed, and it is herein that evidence is often gathered to support the author's argument that fan behaviour and culture is either incorporative and/or resistant of dominant ideologies. It is evident that just as fans' interest in science ®ction or cult television is not restricted to fan conventions, neither are the interests of sport fans solely encased within the walls of the `live' sport venue. Over twenty years ago Nowell-Smith (1981) wrote, of British association football fans, that their interest and experience of sport largely existed within their conversations, social relationships, media use and memories, which exist outside of the `live' venue in their everyday live. Sport is not just something that takes place at a speci®c location and time, but lives on in people's imagination and conversations, through their social networks, friendships, mass media and consumer good use, and in their very identity. This is particularly evident within latecapitalist societies, where mass consumption and the mass media have signi®cantly increased the consumer and audiences' opportunities to connect with the spectacular in their everyday lives (see Featherstone 1991). Moreover, sport is not the preserve of the (relatively) few fans who regularly attend `live' sport events, but impacts on millions of people's lives all around the world, most of whom may never have attended a `live' sport event, and those who may not even consider themselves a` fan' of sport. In a similar way to how Stacey (1994) suggests that the identi®cation between the cinema-goer and the cinematic stars they watch extends outside of the walls of the cinema, so too can the identi®cation of the sport fan with the particular sport(s) they follow. Being a sport fan can play an important role in de®ning an individual's identity and help generate and maintain their social networks. Many individuals will de®ne themselves on the basis of their sporting interests, and the social identities they `play out' may be closely linked to their role and location as a sport fan. Being a sport fan, particularly demonstrating certain sporting allegiances, can help de®ne who a person is, and say a great deal about them to other people. Moreover, sporting interests and allegiances can play a crucial role in de®ning social networks. Not only those


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based around supporter `communities', but also by providing a source of conversation, identity and similarity for friendship groups, families, work colleagues, Internet discussion groups and a myriad of other possible social arrangements. Wann et al. (2001) consider at length the positive psychological and social bene®ts of being a sport fan, such as helping provide good psychological wellbeing, a source of communication, identity, social capital, socialization and social integration. However, the key theme running through all of these psychological and social bene®ts is the role sport plays in linking individuals to a wider sense of community and belonging, and the associated sense of identity, which this helps convey. For instance, Wann et al. (ibid.: 164) suggest one of the key psychological bene®ts of being a sport fan is that this can `serve as a buffer against depression and alienation', whilst also increasing both self-esteem and `group-esteem' (i.e. pride in the group to which one belongs). This they suggest is achieved via certain psychological techniques such as `basking in the re¯ected glory' (BIRGing) of a successful team, club or performer, or protecting oneself from future disappointment by playing down success and `cutting off future failure' (COFFing). Similarly, fans may deal with sporting failure by cutting themselves off from association with this disappointment (`cutting off re¯ected failure' or CORFing), or `blasting', and being negative and derogatory towards those who they see as at fault. Furthermore, Wann et al. (2001) suggest that in certain social situations sport can operate as a source of `cultural capital' (Bourdieu 1984) that allows followers of particular sports access to certain social groupings, and can help confer a level of social acceptance and even respect. Moreover, Erickson's (1996) studies of conversations in workplaces in Canada suggest that sport is a useful subject of conversation for men, which cross-cuts most class boundaries. Though for many people `sport matters' (Dunning 1999), for many more, it does not. Sport fan culture can consist of èxceptional' forms of consumption, where fans may frequently consume high levels of sport related texts and items, and it may also inform their social networks, identities and interactions (Longhurst 2003). However, the majority of those who use and consume sport related texts and objects usually do so in much more mundane and òrdinary' ways (Gronow and Warde 2001). Sociology most often concerns itself speci®cally with action and activities that have a purpose or goal. However, Gronow and Warde (2001) suggest that most everyday behaviour is usually engaged in out of habit or routine and is fairly mundane and òrdinary'. For instance, most people's connection with sport in their everyday lives is often inconsequential and may have little or no impact on their concept of self or their relationship with others around them. People are surrounded by images and stories of sport throughout their everyday lives, on billboard advertisements, newspapers, radio and television coverage, in conversations overheard on the bus, websites browsed at work, cereal packet promotions, the clothing of strangers in the street or a multitude of other ways. Hence, the vast majority of sport consumption is fairly mundane and ordinary, and it is these patterns of èveryday life' that are most frequently overlooked.

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Theories of everyday life Grossberg (1992a) draws a distinction between what he refers to as èveryday' and `daily' experiences. For Grossberg, individuals' daily lives are the routine and subsistence practices of eating, sleeping and generally getting by in life. In contrast, èveryday life' refers to individuals' cultural and leisure pursuits, and what people do with their time beyond their subsistence needs. This distinction is useful in that it recognizes that not everyone has access to the everyday lives (i.e. cultural and leisure pursuits) enjoyed by the majority of the population, and that, social class, gender, age, ethnicity and various other social factors may restrict the opportunities open to certain individuals. However, employing this distinction may lead to the tendency only to consider the exclusion of marginalized groups from cultural practices, rather than their participation within these. Hence, it is only the cultural and leisure interests of the majority that become the focus of academic concern, while other groups are seen as excluded from everyday patterns and consequently seen as lacking any signi®cant culture of their own. By contrast, Gardiner (2000: 2) uses the term èveryday life' more generally to refer to `the largely taken-for-granted world that remains clandestine, yet constitutes what Lefebvre [1991] calls the `common ground' or `connective tissues' of all conceivable human thoughts and activities'. That is to say, the everyday and daily routines, habits and mundane patterns, including our òrdinary' consumption, which underlie and link together our lived experiences. Gardiner (2000: 1) suggests that the everyday is `the most overlooked and misunderstood aspect of social existence'. He suggests that the origins of sociology lay in a consideration of `systems' and macro-processes, exempli®ed in the work of Comte, Durkheim and Marx. By the late nineteenth century a more micro-sociological approach was developed through the work of social thinkers such as Heinrich Rickert, Max Weber and George Herbert Mead, and from this, the interpretive turn of the post-war era, which saw the birth of a number of approaches including Ethnomethodology, Phenomenology and Symbolic Interactionism. Though Gardiner (ibid.: 5) suggests that these microsociologies provided an important foundation for the study of the everyday, these continue to adhere to `the pretence of objectivity' and `scholarly detachment', viewing everyday life as relatively homogeneous and attempting to impose order and structures on often highly complex social patterns. Moreover, Gardiner suggests that Cultural Studies, which developed most notably in Britain from the 1950s and spread to Australia, North America and beyond, have often seen the everyday as taken for granted, and hence worth little detailed consideration or de®nition. He also argues that in recent years this has become excessively popularist and lacking in political worth. Similarly, he sees post-modernism as excessively nihilistic, and its tendency to reduce `complex social patterns to the workings of language or discourse', as failing to recognize fully human possibilities and potential (ibid.: 9).


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However, in the past few years there has been an increased interest and awareness in the èveryday' and patterns of òrdinary' consumption. Studies have increasingly recognized that everyday life, far from being homogeneous and monolithic, is full of complex, often contradictory, patterns of behaviour. And Gardiner (2000) suggests it is important to consider how social power relations are located and played out in everyday life. The central argument of Gardiner is a recognition of how patterns of resistance can occur in our everyday lives, and hence argues that our òrdinary' patterns of behaviour can sometimes be quite èxtraordinary'. As contributors to the Frankfurt School, such as Adorno and Horkheimer, saw the potential for emancipation in avant-garde art, authors such as Bakhtin (1984) and de Certeau (1984) suggest that everyday practices far from being fully engulfed by `false consciousness', as Adorno and others would have us believe, can likewise provide the opportunity for liberation and resistance. Gardiner (2000) argues that the panoptic gaze does not peer into every aspect of our lives, and hence, total social control and subjugation of all our thoughts and actions will never be fully achieved. This argument is similar to that outlined by Ransom (1997) in chapter two, which suggests that it is an exaggeration of Foucault's thesis to suggest that the total control of the panopticon prison could ever be fully replicated in wider society. However, Gardiner is far too eager in his rejection of many previous contributions to the study of everyday life. For instance, many theorists whose work he indiscriminately discards under the broad heading ìnterpretivist sociology' are far more subtle in their theorization of everyday life than he acknowledges. In particular, Goffman recognizes that social meaning and understandings are not set, but rather de®ned through social interactions (Stones 1998), and this is a similar argument advocated by both de Certeau (1984) and Gardiner (2000: 21). Furthermore, certain authors advocated by Gardiner, and in particular Bakhtin (1984), can be far too zealous in their claims concerning the opportunities for resistance and rebellion in everyday life. Though my central argument is that contemporary power relations do afford individuals the opportunity to `manoeuvre', and to some degree even `resist', it is important that this is not overstated. The panopticon gaze may not reach into every facet of everyday life, but the key to panoptic discipline is that this is normalized and carried with the individual outside the scope of the gaze. Moreover, it is important not to underestimate `the dull compulsion of economic relations' (Marx 1970, vol.1: 737). As Abercrombie et al. (1980: 163) write `. . . deprived of any claim to the means of production, [the worker] only has his labour-power to sell and is therefore dependent on the individual capitalist or corporation to buy his services in exchange for the necessities of life'. The routines of everyday life are extremely powerful constraints. These relations become taken for granted and, Abercrombie et al. (1980: 167) argue, it requires a `massive disruption to break the reality of everyday life' and step out of these relations. Moreover, they argue (following Durkheim, 1964) that the extensive

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technical and social divisions of late capitalism have rendered this social interdependence an even stronger constraining factor. However, this theorization offered by Gardiner (2000) is valuable in that it highlights the complexities of everyday life, and how these can involve patterns of both oppression and liberation. It also highlights an important `turn' in certain aspects of sociological thinking, towards an increased awareness and consideration of mundane and ordinary everyday practices. In particular, this is a turn that has been witnessed most notably in the literature on media audiences and patterns of consumption

Consumption and everyday life The increased focus on everyday life signi®es an attempt to move away from `structure' versus àgency' debates, which see consumers as either the product of structural processes of production, or at the other end of the scale, consumption as a free expression of the consumer's individuality. Instead, focus within many contemporary considerations of consumption has shifted towards considering the relationship between people, and people and objects. Hence, a move towards a consideration of the èveryday' also signi®es a move away from the ®eld of study of `popular culture', which has been largely characterized by either its critique of `popularism' or celebration of àuthenticity' and `resistance' (Att®eld 2000). Att®eld advocates a `third way' in consumer research, which recognizes the paradoxes of contemporary life (that consumption can involve elements of both ìncorporation' and `resistance'), but seeks to move the focus away from this, and towards `banal' consumption and `the ordinariness of the everyday' (ibid.: 93). Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) apply a similar perspective when they suggest that the incorporation/resistance paradigm of audience research has been replaced by a spectacle/performance paradigm, which takes into consideration how the spectacle and performance of the `live' venue or the mass media have been `diffused' into everyday life; members of late-capitalist society become both performers and the audience in their everyday lives (see chapter two). A similar paradigmatic position is also adopted by Hills (2002: 182) in his theorization of `performative consumption', which seeks to understand how cult-media fans are neither wholly constrained by the mass media resources they use, nor wholly free to interpret these as they see ®t, but rather cult fandom is èssentially contradictory' (this is discussed further in chapter eight). Hence, it is only by considering fan behaviour and practices in a `micrological' manner (Att®eld 2000: 90), which comprises `the study of the particular', we can hope to understand how sport is experienced and consumed in people's everyday lives. However, this does not necessarily signify a shift away from the social towards some kind of individualistic psychological approach to fan culture. As de Certeau (1984) asserts, everyday performance cannot be wholly or simply explained by individual psychology or identity, but rather everyday


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performance is always an expression of (and hence invariably connected with) wider cultures (cited in Nightingale 1996).

Summary Relatively little research has focused on how sport is experienced and consumed in everyday life. The majority of research on sport fans and sport fan culture has focused on the most dedicated and/or exceptional fans, often at the expense of considering more mundane and ordinary forms of sport related consumption. To some degree this has been due to methodological dif®culties in conducting research on everyday life and ordinary patterns of consumption. However, this focus has been principally in¯uenced by the theoretical stance of many authors, which has seen their concerns placed upon searching for evidence of ìncorporative' cultural dopes and/or `resistant' and active fans. Though sport can play an important role in the lives and identities of many individuals, the sheer volume of sport related media, consumer goods, advertisements, conversations and so on, in contemporary society, means that many (even the majority) of those who consume `sport' do so with little consequence for their lives and identities. There is a growing trend within many considerations of media reception to consider these more `mundane' and òrdinary' forms of consumption, and it is my assertion that likewise discussion of sport fans and sport related consumption needs to shift focus away from the èxceptional' and place greater concern on the more common, everyday and òrdinary'. Doing so moves discussion away from `structure' versus àgency' debates, towards an understanding of how social power relations are experienced and located in everyday social patterns.

8

Consumer goods

This chapter considers the social importance of sport related consumption. It argues that consumption should not be seen as an end product and outcome of processes of production, but rather as an active process, which can involve the production of meanings, further consumable texts and can also play a signi®cant role in the users' construction of identity. This chapter argues that a considerable quantity of research and discussion of consumption has been located within an incorporation/resistance paradigm (see chapter two), where consumers are seen as either resistant or incorporative of capitalist-driven consumer culture. However, as argued throughout this book, it is suggested that focus needs to move away from this linear model of power and consider how consumer goods are experienced, utilized and located in the everyday patterns of their users. This is not to say that social power is not signi®cant to this discussion, and moreover, this chapter suggests that the increased importance of surveillance and spectacle in late-capitalist society makes questions of social power relations even more pertinent to the consideration of patterns of consumption. In particular, this chapter focuses on the theorization of `performative consumption' offered by Hills (2002), and suggests this is a useful framework for understanding how consumer goods are drawn on and used by individuals in their everyday performances. Finally, this chapter recognizes that access to consumer goods is not necessarily open to everyone in equal measure, and social factors such as ethnicity, gender and social class can help shape patterns of consumption. However, I suggest that academic focus needs to consider not only how social factors can restrict access to certain consumer activities, but also how these can shape the nature of participation within consumer cultures and the use of consumer goods.

Considering consumption In chapter two the argument was made that a consideration of sport fans needs to be located within a wider discussion of contemporary patterns of consumption. Too often considerations of fan culture, and in particular a large proportion of the literature on sport fans, has focused around highly subjective codes of àuthenticity', which seek to distinguish and focus consideration solely on

Consumer goods 113 who they see as `real' fans, at the expense of considering wider patterns of consumption. However, the argument I set out in this book is that while it is important to recognize different levels of fan connection and involvement, seeking to isolate fan culture as somehow separate and distinct from all other forms of consumption severely limits our potential understanding of fan culture and its location within wider (consumer) society. It is evident that though fans may express high levels of `brand loyalty' (Gruneau and Whitson 1993), the activities of fans and fan cultures are principally constructed around consumer activities, and this is particularly the case with contemporary patterns of sport support. Following, or simply taking an interest, in sport, can involve many different patterns of consumption, such as attending a `live' sport event, watching sport on television, listening to this on radio, reading newspapers or magazines, or sur®ng Internet sites. Moreover, following sport also frequently involves numerous other related acts of consumption, such as going to a bar or pub before or after games, consuming food and drinks at the game, using your car or public transport to get to games, buying in beers and food to watch the game at home, and the list goes on. This is before we even begin to consider the vast array of sport related merchandise (both òf®cial' and ùnof®cial') that is also frequently consumed by sport fans, such as the list recounted by Putman (1999: 165) of `hats and jackets . . . ties, wastebaskets, mouse mats, duffel bags, earmuffs, comforters, calendars, shower curtains, shaving cream mugs, stuffed animals, telephones, ¯ags, clocks and rugs'. Moreover, Putman's list is far from exhaustive, and overlooks many obvious items such as replica shirts and jerseys, T-shirts, scarves, badges, pennants, posters, pens, watches and even underwear. Sport is experienced and consumed in people's everyday lives in numerous ways and combinations, such as in their media use, conversations and social networks, and some of these relationships are the subject of other chapters within this volume. However, in this chapter I speci®cally wish to consider the use, location and social signi®cance of what I refer to as sport related consumer goods. I use this term speci®cally to refer to items that display (or are typically associated with) particular sporting allegiances, and not simply generic `sportswear' (such as training shoes and jogging pants), as the focus of this book is the sociological consideration of sport fans and sport allegiances ± though the occurrence of wearing sport (allegiance bearing) merchandise as a `fashion' item, rather than to express certain allegiances, is also touched upon later in this chapter. Hence, what I consider in this chapter is sport fans' relationship to speci®c forms of what Lury (1996) refers to as `material culture'. As discussed in chapter one, Lury (1996: 3) suggests that `consumer culture' constitutes a speci®c form of `material culture'. Hence, Lury (1996: 1) adopts the use of the term `material culture' to refer to the study of `person±thing' relationships. However, before progressing it is important to recognize the potential limitations of viewing consumption solely as a form of `material culture'. For, it is apparent that not all consumption is based wholly around material items. For instance, if we

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Part IV: Everyday life

accept that being an audience member is an act of consumption, and we follow the line of argument set out by Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) that individuals increasingly become members of a `diffused' audience in their everyday lives in observing the performances of others, then not all acts of consumption necessarily involve `material objects'. There are two possible solutions to this dilemma. First, we could recognize that consumption can involve both material objects and acts of performance, or second, we recognize that `the body' and other sources of performance are similarly material (and consumer) objects. This second solution is the line of argument that I wish to follow in this chapter. Too often the body has been largely ignored in discussions of fan culture. And it is important to recognize the role the body can play, such as in dressing-up and performance, as a source of spectacle and an object to be viewed and consumed by others (Hills 2002: 158). Lury suggests that the everyday usage of the term `consumption' suggests the ùsing up' of an item or thing. Consumption is frequently seen as an end point, the outcome of a process of production, where the act of consumption is secondary, and often overlooked, in preference to the processes of production. This has certainly been the case with the study of sport within contemporary society. As suggested earlier, the study of sport fans is an area largely marginalized within the academic consideration of sport, and where sport fans have been considered, the focus has tended (almost exclusively) to be on the behaviour and demographics of fans within (or around) the `live' sport venue. Hence, academic focus has tended to be primarily placed upon fans' role as recipients of the `live' sport product (e.g. a `live' game), and largely ignored how sport is located in people's everyday lives. Moreover, this has also frequently neglected how sport is often drawn upon as a resource in fans' own processes of production; such as the construction of social networks, identity or turned into further sources of consumption, such as fanzines, Internet sites or simply the subject of conversation. Hence, Lury (following Warde 1990, 1992) suggests that consumption, rather than the outcome (and antithesis) of production, needs to be understood as a constituent part of a continuing process and cycle of various forms of both production and consumption. As Lury (1996: 3) writes: The identi®cation of consumer culture as a speci®c form of material culture helps ensure that it is studied in relation to interlinking cycles of production and consumption or reappropriation. The consumption that is referenced via consumer culture can, through the lens of material culture, be seen as conversion, or, more precisely, `the manner in which people convert things to ends of their own' (Strathern 1994: p. x). It is evident that sport related consumer goods can play an important role in the patterns of contemporary sport support for many fans. Sport supporters will often display their identity and membership to a particular supporter community through the use of sport related consumer goods. This can sometimes

Consumer goods 115 be quite obvious, such as wearing a replica sport jersey or shirt, but can also involve more subtle displays of sporting af®liations and loyalties, such as a discrete pin-badge on a jacket, or a mug or mouse mat at work. For many fans, part of their identity as a sport fan and their connection with their chosen sport, will be expressed and displayed through the use of sport related consumer goods. For instance, one of North America's largest sport related Internet discussion sites, FanHome, has a speci®c discussion area entitled `sport logos', on which fans post messages and engage in discussions relating to team logos, uniforms, replica shirts and the like. In late 2002 one FanHome contributor (`STL Fanatic') began a lively discussion where contributors listed their all time favourite and most disliked team logos and uniforms from all major league North American sports. This promoted a vigorous discussion and responses from other site contributors on their favourite and worst logos and uniforms, and certain teams such as the New York Islanders (NHL), the Mighty Ducks (again, NHL) and the Cleveland Cavaliers (NBA) all became early front runners for `worst logo' (FanHome, n.d.). The use and display of sport related consumer goods is not necessarily a new trend. For example, Dant (1999: 5±6) suggests that supporters of soccer have always declared their allegiances through a series of objects, some of which have had a certain usefulness (the warmth of a woolly hat and scarf in team colours) and others (pennants, badges, ¯ags) which are simply waved, attached to clothing, stuck on walls or hung in cars. Moreover, the collection of cigarette cards featuring various sport and sporting heroes dates back to well before the nineteenth century, and more contemporary variations of this, such as bubblegum cards and sticker books, have been around for many decades. Though, arguably, the display of sport related items is far more ancient than this; for example, in Ancient Roman the followers of various charioteers would commonly dress up in team colours (Guttman 1986). Though this example may appear very different to the mass-market sport related consumer goods we have today, nevertheless this illustration still constitutes an example of sport fans adopting certain material items (in this case clothing) to depict sporting allegiances.

Consumer goods as incorporation/resistance Though there exist few academic considerations of sport related consumer goods, Fawbert (1997) offers an insightful (though at times ¯awed) discussion of the social signi®cance of the English replica (association) football shirt. Fawbert (1997: 9±10) suggests that there are primarily three sociological readings of popular culture that could be applied to a consideration of the football jersey. These he refers to as the `culture and civilization' tradition, the `cultural industry' argument and the `critical and discriminating consumer'. The ®rst two

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perspectives adopt a similar argument, and suggest it is possible to see the replica football shirt as à bland standardized, formulaic and repetitive product' (what he terms a `culture and civilization' perspective) and that these are used to create false needs and a `regressive audience that becomes a passive, dependent, servile, consuming mass' (a `cultural industry' argument) (ibid.: 9). It is certainly the case that many considerations of consumption have adopted a similar negative attitude towards the èxploitative' elements of consumer goods. It is evident that consumer goods and consumer society is not built merely upon meeting existing needs, but rather consumer society helps both construct and maintain needs and desires ± as Bauman (1998a: 25) famously argued, consumer desires are never ful®lled, but rather `desire desires desire'. Similarly, as highlighted in chapter two, a number of discussions of sport fans, and in particular several considerations of the changing nature of contemporary association football supporters, suggest that the increased commercialization and commodi®cation of sport `seduces' fans, creating a `passive' and ìncorporative' new form of sport fandom (such as Taylor 1995, Redhead 1993, 1997). For instance, Redhead (1997: 24) suggests that in association football we are witnessing an ìncreasing presentation and marketing of football for a passive, ``respectable'' audience sitting in either executive boxes, all-seater stadia, on sofas at home, or at the bar watching it on ``deregulated'' television'. Furthermore, Gruneau and Whitson (1993: 219) argue that contemporary supporter communities, owing to their geographically dispersed and increasingly ¯uid nature, lack any real political or bargaining power, and sport fan communities therefore become little more than a widely dispersed (and imagined) collection of individual consumers. They continue (ibid: 221): We want to follow Raymond Williams and suggest that today's ephemeral consumer identities are `radically reduced' identities, insofar as the act of pursuing our interests ®rst and foremost as consumers may actively undermine the livelihood of the communities we live in and whose vitality we depend on in the other parts of our lives. Another corollary of learning to identify ourselves primarily as consumers is that we come to be persuaded that our lives are most effectively enhanced by more consumer choices, in other words by the expansion of the market alone rather than through political activity or voluntary community activity. This trend seems to translate, for many people, into a belief that the best and most attractive communities are the ones that offer the most dynamic entrepreneurial environments as well as `world class' entertainment and shopping. The counter-argument to these readings of the rising number of sport related consumer goods as necessarily exploitative is the perspective that Fawbert (1997: 10) categorizes as à critical and discriminating consumer' argument. In discussions of popular culture and consumption, this perspective is characterized by (amongst others) the work of de Certeau (1984), Jenkins (1992) and Fiske (1989a, 1989b, 1993).

Consumer goods 117 de Certeau (1984) argues that everyday life is a site of `guerrilla warfare', where it is common practice, for instance in conversations, shopping and leisure, for people to engage in small acts of subversion and resistance. de Certeau suggests that this resistance may not lead to wide scale upheaval of the existing social order, but it does constitute a way of òrdinary people' getting by in their everyday lives and `making do' with the objects that capitalism sells them. A particularly relevant application of the work of de Certeau is that of Jenkins (1992), who applies de Certeau's idea of ordinary readers `poaching' from texts and utilising these in different (often unintended) ways in their everyday lives to the consideration of science ®ction fans ± and this will be considered in more detail in the following chapter. Likewise, Fiske (1989a: 23) suggests that `popular culture . . . is contradictory to the core', and that while artefacts of popular culture (including consumer goods) are manufactured and sold in a capitalist market economy for pro®t, these are then incorporated into the everyday lives of consumers, who construct their own meanings and uses of these. Fiske suggests, therefore, that popular culture provides a fertile ground for resistance. That consumers not only `make do' with the objects capitalism sells them, but can utilize these as sources of potential resistance. For instance, Fiske (1989b) offers the example that though shopping malls may be designed as sites of consumption (what Goss [1993] calls `machines for shopping'), this is often subverted by youths who frequent the malls, not to consume, but just to hang out and sometimes engage in deviant behaviour. These more `positive' readings of popular culture can likewise be seen re¯ected in many readings of sport related consumption. For instance, a great deal of Fawbert's (1997) discussion of replica football shirts considers how these have often been utilized as sites of subversion by the working classes. Fawbert suggests that though supporters are sold `standardized' and `formulaic' replica shirts, he cites examples of how these were often customized by some supporters putting the names of their favourite players on them. In particular, Fawbert suggests that the name of the West Ham United player Julian Dicks was a favourite of many supporters. Dicks epitomized many of the old working class values of West Ham, through his hard work, `never-say-die' attitude and willingness to get involved in violent clashes, which many of the supporters felt had been lost in a drive to make professional football more `respectable' and hence marketable (ibid.). However, Fawbert recognizes that as the trend for customizing shirts was noticed by football clubs, this form of `resistance' was quickly incorporated, as the clubs began to offer fans òf®cial' shirt printing. As considered in chapter two, the opportunities for resistance offered by popular culture are always limited as these are frequently reincorporated by the capitalist market, and sold back to consumers. Moreover, Moores (1993) suggests that popular culture and consumer goods are not completely open to interpretation by their users, as a certain degree of limitation on their potential `meanings' and ùses' will have been inscribed in their initial production. Hence, he argues that the degree of potential resistance offered by these is greatly overemphasized

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in the work of authors such as de Certeau (1984) and Fiske (1989a, 1989b, 1993). However, what these readings of popular culture highlight is the role consumers play in the utilization and construction of meaning of forms of popular culture and consumer goods. The likes of Fiske and de Certeau recognize that consumers are not the passive recipients, and hence end-point, of a linear process of production. As suggested earlier in this chapter (and following such authors as Warde 1990, 1992, and Lury 1996), the relationship between production and consumption needs to be understood as cycles of production and consumption rather than a simple dichotomy of production versus consumption (also see Edgell and Hetherington 1996). The consumers of popular culture can play an important role in the production of its meaning ± though noting the concerns of Moores (1993) this production of meaning may operate within certain constraints, as very few (if any) things are open to endless (re)interpretation. Moreover, sport fans (as with other forms of audiences) as well as reinterpreting and/or modifying the objects sold to them can play an active role as producers of other goods. For instance, some supporters will produce or contribute to fanzines, websites or Internet based discussion boards and similar, which are designed for the consumption and interaction of other fans. Moreover, fans will frequently make ¯ags and banners, dress up, or engage in similar performances for others around them. Such examples support the argument that contemporary audiences become both performances and audience members in their everyday lives, creating performances for their own and others' consumption, continuously ¯ipping the distinction between production and consumption. Fans can also be seen as àctive' in the construction of their individual identities. An underlying argument of Bauman (1997, 1998a) is that increasingly consumers `buy into' various consumer goods or `communities' in the construction of their self-identity. That is to say, in a late-capitalist consumer society, identity, rather than being built bit by bit, is increasingly bought ready-made òff-the-rack'. Cultural theory has always questioned the idea of identity as `rigid' and `®xed', but Bauman's discussion is more compliant with a `postmodern' reading of identity, which suggests that identity has become `decentred' (Hall 1992), where individuals can demonstrate several, even contradictory, identities (see Barker 1999). However, contrary to these arguments Warde (1994, 1996) suggests that many consumer goods can be selected with little signi®cance or consequence to an individual's identity, and other factors such as nationality, ethnicity, occupation and family continue to play important roles in shaping identity. Moreover, Campbell (1996) suggests that rather than certain consumer items being selected to construct an identity, it is more likely that items are selected on the basis of their `®t' with existing identities and lifestyles (cited in Dant 1999). This debate has important consequences for the study of fan and audience cultures. An adoption of the perspective outlined by Bauman (amongst others) sees contemporary fans, audience members and other consumers as passive

Consumer goods 119 `cultural dopes', who are seduced into not only buying consumer goods, but also buying into the illusion that this consumer item can convey a certain lifestyle or identity. From this perspective, an individual buying a sports jersey could be seen as seduced into believing that buying a shirt will allow them access and membership to a wider supporter community. Adopting the argument of Campbell (1996) we could see the same individual as merely buying an item that re¯ects and demonstrates their sporting allegiances. A resolution to this argument is hinted at (though never fully developed) in the work of Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998). Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) suggest that not only do many fans engage in `cultural production', such as the production of fanzines, Internet sites and artwork, they can also engage in ìdentity production'. That is to say, fans (and other audience members) draw on consumer and media goods in the construction of their self-identity. Hence, in a similar way as de Certeau (1984) and Jenkins (1992) suggest audience members can `poach' from texts to produce new textual material, it could be argued that audience members utilize (and even `poach') from consumer goods and texts in the production of their identities. But just as fans are unlikely to poach from texts that they have no interest in (and hence do not re¯ect their identities and lifestyles) to fuel their `cultural production', it is most likely that fans (and other audiences) draw on texts in their ìdentity production' which already (to some degree) re¯ect (or at least do not diverge greatly) from existing identities and lifestyles. Hence, the social location and importance of sport related consumer goods is far more complex than the simple two (or three) sided argument Fawbert sets out, which remains ®rmly located within debates of incorporation and/or resistance (see chapter two). As Miles (1998: 33) suggests, neither the argument that fans (and other consumers and audiences) are incorporated `passive dupes' or that popular culture provides weapons for everyday guerrilla resistance are `correct', as `consumerism is far more complicated and far less clear than either of these positions allow' (ibid.). Capitalism is not a monolithic structure, which is either wholly resisted or incorporated, but actions and activities can be both incorporative and resistant and sometimes neither. For instance, in chapter two I highlight the argument of Crabbe and Brown (2003) who suggest that `retro' replica shirts produced by small mail order companies, such as Arkwright Sportswear, still allow fans to display team allegiances, but resist the large corporate mass-produced market of the òf®cial' replica shirt. However, conversely, Fawbert (1997) argues that these same `retro' shirts have been incorporated into the capitalist system by companies such as Arkwright Sportswear. Both of these arguments have validity and highlight how popular culture and consumer goods can often be both incorporative and resistant at the same time. Consumption is neither `good' nor `bad', but rather an inescapable constituent part of contemporary late-modern capitalism. Furthermore, studies of consumption and audience research have sought increasingly to move away from this incorporation/resistance debate and, as suggested in the opening chapter to this part of the book (chapter seven), a shift in focus (or `turn') has

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occurred towards a consideration of how consumer goods and material culture is experienced and located in everyday life. A good illustrative example of this perspective is offered by Oh and Arditi (2000: 72) in their consideration of shopping: . . . shopping should be viewed as being invested by a multiplicity of frames of meaning, some coming from production and market processes, some coming from the shoppers' multiple frames of action . . . Shopping, in this sense, becomes a `fuzzy' practice, an immensely complex, multidimensional, often ¯uid activity that points at the complicated, multilayered, malleable nature of everyday life itself. This perspective suggests that material objects need to be understood as social agents. In that `they extend human action and mediate meanings between humans' (Dant 1999: 13). Objects are not merely produced and consumed, but they are experienced and lived with; as Dant (1999: 38±39) continues: The process of cultural appropriation of material things is not reducible either to production or consumption . . . but has to do with a series of types of interactions between people and objects. These interactions with things ± touching, making, looking at, talking and reading about, using, sorting, maintaining, remaking and so on ± are social in that they are learnt and shared within the culture. Material objects are physically formed within a culture but they are also socially constructed in the ways that they are ®tted into routine, everyday practices and ways of life. Dant (ibid.: 39) argues that `[material goods'] importance is not reducible to their political effects or to economic calculations but emerges through grasping the way that objects are ®tted into ways of living'. However, placing academic focus upon the location, use and experience of material (and consumer) goods in everyday life does not necessarily mean that social power is of less signi®cance within this debate.

Consumer goods and social power Chapter two considers the important role social power continues to play in discussions of fan culture. The argument set out in chapter two is that it is important to move discussion of fan culture (and audiences more generally) away from a linear zero-sum model of power, as such an approach tends to limit discussion of fan culture as either (or both) `resistant' or ìncorporative' of the capitalist mode of production, and consequently, often simpli®es the complex and multifaceted location sport and consumption can occupy in peoples' everyday lives. However, as Bottomore in his introduction to Abercrombie et al. (1980) warns, it is important that we do not throw the dominant ideology

Consumer goods 121 baby out with the bath water. Likewise, in our quest to move beyond neoMarxist inspired readings of popular culture, it is important that we do not ignore the continued importance of social power relations within this discussion. Moreover, if we accept the argument that we live in an increasingly narcissistic society, based evermore upon performance and spectacle, then power relations derived from `the gaze' (and surveillance) of others become of increasing signi®cance (see chapter two). Following Foucault (1979) it is evident that the gaze and surveillance of others can play a signi®cant role in patterns of social control and regulation. Foucault (1979) in his famous discussion of the history of discipline and punishment relates changes in the system of punishment and social retribution to wider historical changes in the social order. Foucault (1979: 217) suggests that the surveillance and social control of the `panopticon prison' (Bentham 1914) has been adopted within wider society, suggesting that we live in a society `. . . not of the spectacle, but of surveillance . . .'. For Foucault, we have all become susceptible to the panoptic gaze. It normalizes and teaches the acceptance of standards of behaviour, which in turn are seen as the norm and as socially acceptable, and we are taught to strive to achieve and maintain these. These arguments have been extended to consider the role and social importance of spectacle in contemporary late-capitalist societies. Mathiesen (1997: 219) suggests that not only do we live in a society where frequently the few observe the many (as with panopticism), there are also numerous incidences where the many view the few, what he refers to as synopticism ± syn taken from the Greek to mean `together' or àt the same time'. Mathiesen argues that we live in a two-way viewer society, where we watch and are watched, where synopticism has developed in parallel and in relation to panopticism; the two often occurring and fusing together (also see Bennett 1995). For instance, Mathiesen suggests that modern technology such as television, video, satellites and computers have helped develop both panopticism and synopticism jointly. Mathiesen cites the example of Orwell's 1984, where not only does Big Brother see all, but individuals also see Big Brother. This, however (and signi®cantly), does not necessarily give the individual power or access. The power to dictate the contents of the mass media is generally restricted to the hands of the few; the spectacle does not give voice, nor does it emancipate, but rather we are silent observers. Hence, for Mathiesen, `things are much worse than Michel Foucault imagined' (1997: 231). Hence, I would suggest that it is important that we understand social power relations as increasingly complex and multifaceted. Fan culture can be both constraining and empowering, and power relations can operate through individuals as well as on them. Just because in a `diffused' audience model power relations are often more dif®cult to identify and pin down, it does not mean that they are not present and do not play an important role in de®ning the nature of fan culture.

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Performative consumption A particularly useful theorization of the role and location of consumption within fan culture is that of `performative consumption' offered by Hills (2002) in his discussion of cult media fans. This presupposes the act of consumption in fan culture, and recognizes the important role consumption plays in fuelling fans' individual performances and identities. In many respects, this is similar to the theorization of audiences offered by Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) who suggest that increasingly individuals draw on consumer goods and mass media resources to fuel their performances in everyday life. Both of these discussions of audiences and fan culture are signi®cant, as they recognize that consumption does not end with the purchase of an object, but rather that consumer goods can (and frequently are) lived with, experienced and utilized by their owners. However, Hills develops the question of social power and agency further than that offered by Abercrombie and Longhurst in that `performative consumption' recognizes that fan culture involves both constraint and individual expression. As Hills (2002: 159) writes: Through the notion of `performative consumption' it is . . . possible to view the question of agency not as determined or de®nite property which fans do or do not `possess' . . . but rather as a claim that can be made at certain points in time but not at others. For instance, Hills suggests, fans do not usually claim agency in their `becominga-fan' stories, for (as considered in chapter two) few fans can attribute where their fan interests developed from, but their later `performances' and construction of identity often involve individual expression and agency. Hills (ibid.: 160) continues: Arguing that fans are really constantly self-absent and non-volitional would equate fans with addicts, while arguing that fans are really constantly volitional and active social agents busy making meanings would have to selectively ignore fans' inability to rationalise fully the origins of their fandom. Instead, I suggest here that both types of claim need to be respected within fan studies. Nightingale (1994) also offers a consideration of fan performance but, unlike Hills, draws a distinction between ìmpersonation' and ìmprovisation'. The ®rst of these is seen as lacking in individual creativity and as a `slavish citation of consumer goods' (ibid.: 15), while ìmprovisation' demonstrates individual expression and agency. However, Hills (2002: 161) argues that this distinction fails to recognize that, though impersonation and improvisation may appear contradictory, they can (and often do) coexist together. For instance, Hills cites Henderson's (1997) discussion of a Japanese Elvis impersonator, Mori Yasumasa. Henderson (1997: 251±252) suggests that this, and other, impersonators are not

Consumer goods 123 simply trying to be, or even replicate, Elvis, but rather they are using Èlvis as a platform for their own personality' (cited in Hills 2002: 165). Hence, Hills (2002: 164±165) suggests: The Elvis impersonator's remaking of the ¯esh is . . . not a denial of the body, but exactly part of that process which Baudrillard (1993: 23) believes we no longer have time for: `to search for an identity for ourselves in the archives, in a memory, in a project or a future'. The fan's writing of Elvis upon his or her (see Henderson 1997: 125) body is that search, not for a `look' or visuality (an Ì want to look like Elvis') which Baudrillard (1993: 23) diagnoses as the condition of contemporary consumer culture, but for a being (and Ì want to be (like) Elvis'). Elvis impersonation is a project; it represents recourse to an archive (the precise catalogue set of jumpsuits and out®ts worn on stage by Elvis; images of Elvis; set-lists and conventionalised details of his stage show), and recourse to a powerful set of memories; those of the fan's lived experience as a fan. Hills' (2002) discussion of `performative consumption' offers an understanding of how consumer (and other material) goods and resources are frequently drawn on by fans, along with their own lived experiences and other in¯uences, in the construction of their identity. Identity then is not something simply bought off the shelf, as the likes of Bauman and Baudrillard would suggest, but rather needs to be understood as a `project', where consumer goods and mass media resources may be drawn on by fans to fuel their performances and the construction of their identities. This approach then, moves the consideration of consumer goods away from the act of purchase and the discussion of the ùse' and `sign' value a particular item may be bestowed with, towards a consideration of the social context and existing practices in which this item is located (Dant 1999: 26). This recognizes that particular items or resources can have signi®cantly different social meanings, and be employed in different ways, depending on the social context in which they are placed. Some, such as Barthes (1957), have suggested that clothing and the adornment of our bodies can be understood as a language, which conveys certain messages (cited in Dant 1999). However, the meaning and `messages' conveyed by clothing and body adornment are often confusing and highly ambiguous, and hence as Edwards (1997, 2000) suggests, these constitute highly ineffective forms of communication; as the ìntended' meaning of items can frequently be `misread'. This has led some `postmodern' writers, such as TseeÈlon (1995), to suggest that in contemporary society clothing is ultimately free from all social meaning (cited in Baldwin et al. 1999). However, though I would suggest this expresses a somewhat extreme perspective, it does highlight that the meaning of clothing, and other material and consumer goods, are (to a degree) open in both the meanings they are used to convey and how these are `read' and interpreted by others.

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For instance, Fawbert (1997) suggests that the wearing of a particular replica sport jersey can hold very different meanings for different people in different social contexts. A sport jersey can represent a sense of locality and place. For instance, as Back et al. (2001: 82) suggest, in relation to the importance many fans place upon their team and its players `wearing the [team] shirt': . . . the notion of `wearing the shirt' summons in [association] football fan vernacular the deepest level of symbolic identity and commitment. It captures the embodied meanings associated with the football club as an emblem of locality and identity . . . However, as Simmel (1957) suggests in his classic consideration of fashion, clothing (and likewise I would suggest other consumer goods) can be used as both a source of af®liation and differentiation. As well as signifying an individual as the follower of a particular sport, consumer goods can also be used as a mark of difference, or even `distinction' (Bourdieu 1984). For instance, in my own research on British ice hockey fans (Crawford 2000) I suggest that many fans seek to distinguish themselves as different and distinct from other sport fans, and most commonly, football fans. Furthermore, Wills (2000) (in the British football fanzine When Saturday Comes) suggests that an important meaning of the replica football shirt for fans such as himself is that these not only signify team allegiances, but also convey belonging to a certain class position. He suggests that unlike `designer' wear, which only demonstrates the wearer as a `pretentious prat', a replica football shirt `. . . marks you down as a member of the lumpen proletariat and, therefore, OK' (ibid: 46). It is also evident that not everyone who wears or utilizes a sport related consumer item may do so to demonstrate sporting allegiances. Though items such as replica sport jerseys have little practical value (as they are often of quite poor quality and offer the wearer little warmth), other sport related consumer goods such as a mug, bottle opener, pen or similar item, carrying a team's name or logo, may have more practical value and may be used by individuals who do not have allegiances to that (or even any) particular team or sport. Moreover, even items of sport related clothing, such as replica jerseys and baseball caps, may be worn and displayed by individuals who do not support or follow that particular sport. This is particularly evident in North America, and signi®cantly so within certain ùrban' youth cultures, where individuals who may have no interest in a particular sport still wear sport related clothing simply as `fashion' items. For instance, the `NY' logo of the New York Yankees baseball team is one of the most common symbols to appear on baseball caps in the UK, but it is unlikely that many of the wearers of these will have any allegiance to the Yankees, and many may not even associate the logo with the team at all. Such an example could be taken to support a postmodern argument, such as that forwarded by Lyon (1994), which suggests that consumer goods have been èmptied' out of meaning (see Lury 1996). Here, the Yankees baseball

Consumer goods 125 ùse' value, as a part of a professional sport team's uniform, is largely replaced by its sign value as a fashion item, which is worn by millions who probably have no interest in, and certainly no sporting allegiances to, the New York Yankees. However, as Miles (1998) suggests, such a post-modern argument tends to overlook the meanings associated and attached to consumer objects in their everyday use, and though a sport related item may lack a direct connection to the team for some users, it is unlikely to have been emptied altogether of all meanings. For instance, to most wearers and `readers' of the Yankees' cap, the `NY' is still likely to represent other associated ideas, such as New York City, and hence will still embody a certain sense of Àmericanism' and even Àmericana'. Furthermore, just as wearing and displaying sport related consumer goods can convey a wide array of meanings, such as signifying membership to a local community, social class or can be worn simply as a `fashion' item, it is also evident that for sport fans, not wearing sport related merchandise can also convey certain meanings and help de®ne certain group membership. For instance, in Crawford (2003) where I ®rst set out my model of fan career progression (replicated here in chapter two), I present a quote from a British ice hockey fan (Àlex') who discussed how over his life-course as a fan he had shifted from regularly wearing a replica team jersey to now not wearing any form of team colours. Alex signi®es a progression in his supporter career towards his current location as a `professional' (see chapter two). It is his membership to this small èlite' group of supporters which he seeks to signify by not wearing a replica team shirt. This attitude is also similar to that highlighted by King (1998) in his consideration of a certain `type' of Manchester United supporter, who he refers to as the `lads'. King uses the term `lads' to identify a certain type of young male, frequently working-class, football fan. King suggests that the `lads' are less likely than `new consumer fans' (those who have been attracted to football since its increased commercialization) to wear òf®cial' club merchandise, as this is often seen as indicative of new (and hence less `dedicated') forms of support. `Lads', he suggests, tend more commonly to wear `casual' designer wear, and are frequently critical of the type of supporter who wears replica club shirts: For the lads, to wear club merchandise is to be associated with fans who do not drink, who are dependent on the club for away-match travel, are uncritical of the changes to football, do not contribute to the atmosphere in the ground and will not stand up in a ®ght (ibid.: 155). As these few examples (from a list of many other possibilities) illustrate, sport related consumer goods can hold and convey many different meanings and messages for different people in different social situations. Sport related consumer items can signify membership to a local or more distant community, dedication to a club, sport or team, àuthenticity' as a `real' fan, simply be worn or used as a practical or fashion item, or any number of other meanings inscribed in these by their users. Moreover, the meanings `read' from these can also

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frequently differ from those that were intended by the wearer, for as argued, clothing and similar consumer items operate as poor forms of communication. For instance, returning to the example of King's `new consuming fans', it is likely that their adherence to wearing club merchandise is intended to display allegiance and dedication to their team, while to others (particularly the `lads') this is seen to indicate quite the opposite, and signify their recent (and hence less `dedicated') interest in the club. This wide array in the individual uses and meanings (both those intended and those read) of consumer items in everyday life is frequently overlooked in many studies of consumption, and has been particularly absent from the majority of considerations of sport fan culture. Moreover, many discussions of sport and fan culture have largely ignored variations in practices and attitudes of individuals on the basis of social distinctions such as disability, ethnicity, gender, and social class.

Access to consumer goods As considered in chapter three, patterns of sport support and access to sport fan communities are frequently restricted on the basis of social divisions, such as gender and ethnicity. Furthermore, just as it is evident that, for most fans, involvement and interest in sport does not stop at the walls of the `live' venue, it is also apparent that patterns of social membership and exclusion, which operate around supporter communities, are also represented in patterns of sport support in everyday life and consumer patterns. Moreover, studies of consumption have recognized for some time that access to certain consumer products is frequently restricted on the basis of certain social divisions. For example, it has been widely recognized that consumption has traditionally, and continues to be, a largely gendered activity. Nava (1997) suggests that while men were traditionally seen as the family `breadwinners', shopping was, and to some extent still is, seen as a female domain; put simply, men work (produce) and women shop (consume). Edwards (2000: 132) suggests that this gendered view of consumption has become ìncreasingly outdated'; however, it is still apparent that the type and nature of consumer activities retains many gendered distinctions. For instance, it is the likes of DIY accessories, leisure (such as video and music) technologies and sport merchandise which are most notably aimed at a male consumer market. Discussions of consumption, in relation to class and poverty, have tended to focus upon issues of restricted access to certain (if not all) consumer goods. For example, Bauman's (1997) use of the metaphors of cultural `tourist' and `vagabond' are used to highlight the distinction between those who can freely participate in contemporary consumer culture, and those who are limited in their consumer choices. As Lury suggests (1996: 6) `poverty places severe limits on the ability to exercise choice . . . [and] as such, it is a fundamental index of the ability to participate in consumption'.

Consumer goods 127 Hence, though some studies of consumption frequently recognize the restrictions placed upon access by certain social factors, emphasis within these is often based upon access rather than considering how these factors can also shape the nature of participation within consumer culture. For instance, though it is commonly acknowledged within studies of consumption that ethnicity can play a signi®cant role in restricting access to certain consumer activities, little consideration is given to how ethnicity can shape the participation of individuals as consumers. As Edwards suggests (2000: 141) there has been an òverwhelming ``whitewash'' or lack of racial awareness in most investigations of consumer society, theoretically and empirically'. In particular, Ketra Armstrong (2002) suggests that considerations of the consumer patterns of sport fans have tended to overlook issues of ethnicity, and treat sport fans as a largely homogeneous group. However, her own research suggests that `Black' 1 consumers of sport are often motivated to follow sport and attend different sports with different frequency to those of `White' sport fans. Furthermore, in relation to issues of social class, the relationship between poverty and consumer practices is not necessarily as straightforward as many presume. As Lury (1996: 6) argues: Studies of poverty have shown that the relationship between economic wealth and participation in material culture are highly complex and historically variable; there is no direct relationship between an individual's economic standing, and their ownership of goods, perceptions of which goods count as necessities or luxuries, understanding of needs or wants, their tastes, or sense of style. It is often a vast over-generalization to suggest that the poor are excluded en masse from consumer culture. Consumer culture does not only create desire in those who can easily obtain this, but also within the poor and marginalized in society. As considered in chapter three the followers of many sports, such as association football in Britain, have historically, and continue to be, largely drawn from the working classes. And though the argument could be made that it is these working class fans who are increasingly excluded from the new consumer culture that surrounds sport fan culture, it is evident that many poorer fans will still attend `live' sport events and buy and use sport related consumer goods, even if this means owning and wearing last season's shirt, rather than buying a new one every season. Moreover, as indicated at the beginning of this chapter, though this chapter speci®cally focuses on certain types of sport related consumer goods, it is mistaken to assume consumption consists only of the purchase of expensive material items, such as replica sport shirts. Sport related consumption can also involve watching sport on television, listening to it on the radio, reading about it in newspapers or magazines. Furthermore, sport is experienced through the conversation, recall, performance and imagination of its followers and fans. By simply focusing consideration on how marginalized groups are excluded from consumer

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cultures and practices overlooks their patterns of involvement within these and provides a vastly generalized view of consumption, which tends to privilege the experiences of an af¯uent, white, male majority. Though, the argument could be made that marginalized groups' participation within certain consumer activities is to a large extent shaped by their exclusion from other activities (McRobbie and Garber 2000), by focusing solely on exclusion rather than considering patterns of participation, we are left with little understanding of the diverse nature of consumer pattern and everyday lives. And hence, it is here that considerably more research and discussion needs to be focused, recognizing that social factors such as gender, ethnicity, class and disability not only limit access to consumer activities, but also shape patterns of participation within this.

Summary This chapter has highlighted that `consumption' is not restricted to `person± thing' relationships (Lury 1996), but should also include certain forms of `person±person' relationships, such as attending a `live' sport event. However, more speci®cally, this chapter has focused on the use and meanings attached to consumer (material) items. Sport related consumer goods, such as replica sport jerseys, pennants, scarves and ¯ags, often constitute an important part of contemporary sport fan culture. Many fans will frequently use and display a wide array of sport related consumer goods, and for some their primary connection and association with sport may be through these. It is the central argument of this chapter, and book, that fans (as with other audiences) should not be seen as passive recipients of the goods they are sold, but that many (particularly fans) can actively draw on these in constructing and creating other consumer goods (such as fanzines and websites), their individual identities and social performances. Many considerations of fan cultures tend to focus upon the role of these as either incorporative and/or resistant of dominant ideologies. However, I argue that it is important to move away from such linear debates and recognize the complex and ¯uid ways sport (and sport related goods) are consumed and located in everyday social patterns. Sport related consumer goods can be used and experienced in numerous, often contradictory, ways. For example, sport related consumer goods can be used to convey a sense of tradition and locality, they can demonstrate membership to a particular community or social group, act as a mark of `distinction' (Bourdieu 1984), or simply be displayed as a fashion item. Furthermore, in certain circumstances, not wearing or displaying sport related consumer goods can also be used to display certain meanings, such as certain association football fans who seek to demonstrate their masculinity and authenticity through not wearing highly visible forms of sport merchandise (King 1998). However, shifting consideration away from understanding consumer goods solely as mechanisms of incorporation and/or resistance does not mean that social power is of less signi®cance to this discussion. Moreover, I argue that the increase in performative behaviour and spectacle in contemporary society

Consumer goods 129 means that increasingly individuals are subject to the gaze of others, which can work to regulate and control their behaviour (Foucault 1979). Hence, an awareness of social power relations is even more pertinent to this discussion, but it needs to be understood how these are experienced and lived through individuals rather than solely upon them. A particularly useful theorization for understanding the relationship between consumption and fan culture is that of `performative consumption' as set out by Hills (2002). This recognizes how consumption is frequently drawn on by individuals in their social performances and construction of social identities, but acknowledges the contradictory role of this as both constraining and enabling individual creativity and agency. Finally, it is important to recognize here that consumer culture is not open to everyone in equal measure, and in particular social factors such as ethnicity, gender and social class (amongst other factors) can limit access to certain consumer items. However, though studies frequently recognize the limitations placed upon access to consumer culture, beyond this, consumers are frequently discussed as a largely homogeneous group. Henceforth, it is important to recognize how social factors not only shape access to consumer goods, but also help shape the nature of participation within consumer culture and recognize the diversity and dynamic nature of contemporary patterns of consumption.

9

Mass media and new media technologies

It is evident that sport and the mass media have a particularly strong and longstanding association. As considered in chapter one, the printed press has featured sport related stories since (if not before) the eighteenth century (Rowe 1999). This relationship was further strengthened by the advent of television, most notably from the 1950s onwards. However, it is primarily from the 1980s that this af®liation became cemented and helped transform the contemporary nature of sport (see chapter one). In recent years there has been a growing volume of books and articles considering the contemporary relationship between sport and the mass media, including (amongst numerous others) the work of Goldlust (1987), Whannel (1992), Wenner (1998), Rowe (1999) and Boyle and Haynes (2000). However, the focus of this chapter is less concerned with the general relationship between sport and the mass media, but more speci®cally the use and location of the mass media and new media technologies in sport fans' everyday lives. The chapter begins by giving a brief overview of sport's location within forms of mass media. This discussion then brie¯y considers the contemporary media creation of the sport celebrity, and how the coverage of sport in the mass media has come to resemble soap opera. The main focus of the chapter is sport fans' use of the mass media. This section argues that it is important to consider how audiences draw on the mass media as a resource, in the construction of their identities, social interactions and performances. The ®nal two sections of this chapter consider the use and location of the Internet and digital gaming in sport fan culture.

Sport and the mass media As discussed in chapter one, there is now more sport on television than ever before. New television technologies, such as satellite, cable and digital television, have increased the volume of sport available via a plethora of dedicated sport channels and networks. Moreover, we have also witnessed a dramatic rise in the quantity of sport covered on free-to-view terrestrial television. For instance, the FA Premier League's deal with Sky television in the UK in the early 1990s, which took top-¯ight English football off terrestrial television, led


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to an explosion of sport on television as other channels sought to combat Sky with coverage of other football leagues and sports. However, sport on television does not just include coverage of `live' and prerecorded games. The popularity of sport, and success in attracting sizable audiences, has seen its in¯uence spread to other television genres. Most obviously, sport often features in magazine-type shows, which include news and roundups of sport action, but sport has also become a theme for numerous other television formats, such as quiz shows, fantasy leagues, phone-in and debate programmes and even comedies and soap operas (Rowe 1999). Furthermore, the volume of sport coverage and sport related stories has also dramatically increased in other forms of mass media. An abundance of specialist newspapers, magazines, radio stations and shows, websites, and Internet based discussion areas have all developed in recent years, focusing primarily (if not solely) on sport. Even many general newspaper and radio stations have signi®cantly increased their coverage of sport. For instance, up until the late 1980s in the UK, coverage of sport (particularly association football) was primarily associated with the tabloid press. Though the `quality' press did cover sport (and at times, a much wider range than that covered in the tabloids), the quantity of sport related stories in these was usually signi®cantly less. However, virtually all British national newspapers now feature sizable weekly or monthly pull-out sport sections or magazines and their daily pages feature a much larger volume of sport stories than that seen twenty years ago. Reduced printing costs from the late-1970s also saw the rise in amateur fan-produced publications, called fanzines (see Haynes 1995). Fanzines initially developed in the UK around music interests, but soon were crossing over into sport, and most notably, football. Additionally, new media technologies, such as the advent of the Internet, have also increased the opportunity for sport organizations, media corporations and supporters themselves to increase vastly the volume of media produced and available on sport. A continuously expanding volume of websites and Internet areas exist that specialize, or at least cover, sport related issues, including òf®cial' club and league sites, media networks, commercial sites and fan sites both large and small. Moreover, the in¯uence and popularity of sport has spread beyond the realms of television, print and Internet based media into other ®elds of popular culture. Sport has become a common and fashionable subject for numerous books, ®lms, music and digital games. For instance, in the UK, the popularity of Nick Hornby's book, Fever Pitch (1992), a semi-autobiographical account (and later ®lm adaptation) of the life of an Arsenal fan, has unleashed a multitude of (often substandard) books about fans' relationships with the beloved clubs. Sport, and in particular baseball, has proved a popular topic for numerous ®lms, such as Bull Durham (1988 Ron Shelton), Field of Dreams (1989 Phil Alden Robinson), Major League (1989 David S. Ward), A League of Their Own (1992 Penny Marshall) and a list of others. There has also been a substantial interconnect between sport and music. For instance, Redhead (1997) considers the relationship that has existed between association football and popular music

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in the UK, and discusses and lists several pages of football related songs, ranging from those speci®cally about football, such as Billy Bragg's `God's Footballer', to more tenuous links, such as The Undertones' `My Perfect Cousin' or Morrissey's `Dagenham Dave' which both feature football related sleeves. Furthermore (as will be considered in greater depth later in this chapter), sport has proved a popular and common theme in digital gaming as early as the 1972 tennis inspired game of Pong, and virtually every sport and major competition now has its own digital version. Sport constitutes a major part of the contemporary mass media, not only in its coverage, but also in its in¯uence on other genres and forms of popular culture, and similarly, its players and performers have increasingly become `stars' and `celebrities' in their own right.

Sport celebrity and soap opera The rise and importance of the sport celebrity has, in recent years, become of increasing interest within the academic literature on sport. Several volumes and articles have been published that consider the contemporary formation of the media sport star, such as Baker and Boyd (1997), Andrews and Jackson (2001), Whannel (2002) and those focusing on speci®c sport celebrities, such as Andrews' (2001) edited collection on Michael Jordan, or Cashmore's (2002) book Beckham. It is evident that the idea of the `celebrity' has existed for, possibly, thousands of years; for instance, Whannel (2002) draws parallels with this to the historical heroes of classical mythology and legend. However, it is apparent that the contemporary formation of the celebrity is a media construct of the (primarily late-) twentieth century. In particular, Cashmore (2002) suggests that the contemporary nature of the sport celebrity is quite different to even that seen in the 1960s. Cashmore suggests, while sport stars such as Denis Compton, Tom Finney and Bobby Moore were known primarily for their sporting deeds and achievements, contemporary celebrity is only partially achieved through success, and primarily constructed by the mass media. The creation and maintenance of celebrity is in itself now a major industry, made possible largely by the mass media. Individuals from almost any ®eld, be it music, ®lm, sport or even cookery, can be elevated to the status of celebrity by the contemporary mass media (Rein et al. 1997). Cashmore (2002) utilizes the work of Andy Warhol, and in particular his repetition of images of stars such as Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley, to highlight the way in which contemporary celebrities are produced and reproduced like any other consumer commodity by the mass media. Celebrities are an image created and maintained by the mass media, and hence, often lack any substantial connection to `reality'. As Cashmore (2002: 192) writes, David Beckham is às much a [media] construction as Bob the Builder or Tony Soprano ± a product of imagination and industry, rather than exploits'.


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The mass media construction of celebrity often lacks depth of character, as ®gures are frequently painted in one-dimensional terms. In particular, the media creates opposing ®gures of the sporting ` ``heroes'' and ``villains'' in order to play out sporting narratives' (Boyle and Haynes 2000: 92). The good conduct of Gary Lineker is compared with the villainy of Vinnie Jones, the outlandishness of Dennis Rodman is opposed to the wholeness of Michael Jordan, or the `66' of Mario Lemieux contrasted to Gretzky's `99'. However, just as the media builds them up, they also knock them down ± and then maybe build them up again. As Andrews and Jackson (2001) suggest, many sporting `heroes' have seen the adulation turn to revulsion, particularly within the tabloid press. Though, even some of the most vili®ed ®gures can likewise see their status reversed and hailed by the media as `heroes'. This rollercoaster treatment by the mass media can be seen in numerous sporting careers, such as those of David Beckham, Dennis Rodman and Diego Maradona (ibid.). However, as Boyle and Haynes (2000) indicate, these starring roles of hero or villain are usually reserved for men. Women do not feature prominently in media sporting narratives; re¯ecting their marginalized position within both sport and its coverage in the mass media. Much of the language used to describe sport stars in the mass media draws on the narrative of melodrama. Heroes rise and fall, villains are defeated, and women play out their roles as supporting cast members to men's central dramatic roles. Sport has literally seen itself portrayed in recent years as melodrama and soap opera. For instance, in the UK, Sky television carries the weekly soap Dream Team, which features the exploits of a ®ctional English football team, while the ITV series Footballer's Wives focuses on the ®ctional stories of sex and scandal of professional footballers and their wives. Jenkins (1997) suggests that traditionally, melodramas (such as soap operas) have been seen as a female genre, as these tend to deal with issues of domesticity, sentimentality and melodrama, while sport has largely remained a male domain. This divide, he suggests, is cross-cut by WWF (now called WWE) wrestling, which he argues constitutes a form of `male melodrama'. Jenkins cites the work of Barthes (1982), who argues that wrestling is a form of theatre, but suggests that more than this it is also a melodrama as it involves `the exploration of the emotional and moral life of its combatants' (Jenkins 1997: 53). He continues: Like traditional melodrama, wrestling operates within a dualistic universe: each participant is either a good guy or a villain, a `fan favourite' or a `rule-breaker'. Good guys rarely ®ght good guys, bad guys rarely ®ght bad guys. Championship is sometimes unjustly granted to rule-breakers but ultimately to the virtuous. WWF wrestling offers its viewers a story of justice perverted and restored, innocence misrecognized and recognized, strength used and abused (ibid.: 53±54).

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However, it is not just the semi-®ctional world of WWE wrestling that involves these elements of melodrama, increasingly many sports and their participants have become one of `real life' tabloid rumour, gossip and scandal. Rose and Friedman (1994: 27) highlight the way sport commentator and pundits' discussions of sport stars often resembles `the gossip of soap opera'. In 1979 Critcher discussed the media's role in constructing football players as celebrities, and the way audiences are èducated' into accepting sport as a form of `melodrama'. Moreover, Rowe (1995) suggests many sport celebrities now bridge the boundaries between sport and wider entertainment industries. Sport celebrities appear on chat shows, in ®lms, in digital games, and even guest star in soap operas. Their media importance is no longer restricted to their sporting careers, the back pages of newspapers, and sport shows, their personal lives also become the focus of mass media attention, as media narratives commonly re¯ect the storylines of soap operas and melodramas. For instance, Paul `Gazza' Gascoigne's career and life has continuously been the focus of British tabloid journalism for well over a decade. His life has been recounted like that of any soap character, featuring his success (and England's almost success) at the 1990 soccer World Cup ®nals, which ended (literally) in tears, to his struggles with his weight and depression, and the tabloid loathing directed at him after he admitted to physically assaulting his wife (see Giulianotti and Gerrad 2001). However, other sport celebrities frequently see their personal lives recounted and set out in the mass media like soap opera scripts, such as the initial outrage in Canada at Wayne Gretzky's engagement to an American Playboy model (with being American viewed as far more controversial than her job as a `glamour' model ± see Jackson 2001), and of course, David Beckham's almost continuous presence in Britain's national press and entertainment and fashion magazines (see Cashmore 2002). However, this crossover from sport to other genres of popular culture has not only occurred in relation to the activities of sport performers and òrdinary' fans. `Football hooliganism' has also demonstrated itself a fashionable theme for newspaper and magazine articles, television shows, videos, books, ®lms and now even as a digital game, as the `football hooligan' has itself become a genre of popular entertainment.

The commodi®cation of football hooliganism Giulianotti (1999: 51) suggests that `hooligans have tended to be a compellingly attractive subculture, in being ``where the action is'' ', not only to potentially new members and those on the fringes of this group, but also to a whole range of popular culture consuming audiences. Mainstream newspapers and magazines for many years have carried stories and features on hooligans and hooligan behaviour, and moreover, several `hooligan' groups since the 1970s have intermittently produced fanzines and publications (sometimes, though not always, neo-Nazi related ± see Williams 1992), which would have had a much wider readership than those directly involved in `hooligan' activities.


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Gang violence, and in particular football hooliganism, has in recent years become increasingly the subject of much wider publication and public interest. The rise in `lad mag' culture in Britain in the 1990s with the popularity of men's magazines such as Loaded, FHM and Maxim has shown how popular a recipe of beer, ®ghting and sexism can be with a young male audience (see Whelehan 1994 and Carrington 1998). Football hooliganism provides the pinnacle of this voyeuristic journey into the (under)world of alcohol, danger, violence and overt masculinity for the consuming public to enjoy in the comfort (and safety) of their own homes. In recent years `hooliganism' has become a genre in itself within popular culture. Numerous television programmes (such as MacIntyre Uncovered ± see Green®eld and Osborn 2001: 5) and videos have been produced that either seek to èxplain' hooliganism, provide insight into its `murky' world, or purely offer voyeuristic entertainment to the viewing public. Moreover, Armstrong (1998) writes how numerous ex-hooligans (such as Allan 1989, Ward 1989, Brimson and Brimson 1996) have turned their past exploits into best-selling books, while others such as Bill Buford (1991) and John King (1996, 1998) have written extremely popular ®ctional accounts of football hooliganism. Football hooliganism has also become a valid topic for the movie industry, with ®lms such as I.D. (1995 Philip Davis), the TV movie The Firm (1988 Alan Clarke) and the forthcoming ®lm adaptation of John King's book The Football Factory, depicting and selling ®ctional accounts of English hooligan behaviour and camaraderie to movie audiences. Football hooliganism has even become the subject of a digital game, Hooligans: Storm Over Europe, which is discussed in more detail later in this chapter. Furthermore, the rise of hooligan related Internet websites and discussion areas has further allowed this `peering into' and consumption of the hooligan's world to take on a much `realer' and `participatory' role for the hooligan voyeur. Hooligan websites often include (supposedly `factual') accounts of past skirmishes, pictures of violence and destruction of property, and interactive message boards that allow individuals to boast about their exploits, or most often, just abuse the (absent) supporters of rival teams. These pages allow readers and contributors to engage in overtly masculine interactions, but from a safe distance and behind the anonymity of a non-identifying screen name. Sport fans' use of the Internet as a resource and link to community is discussed later in this chapter, but the use of `football hooligan' websites in itself presents a signi®cant area that needs further research and investigation.

Sport fans' use of the mass media Media studies have a long tradition of viewing audiences as `passive dopes' (Gar®nkel 1967) who are seduced by the mass media. This is particularly evident in the work of critical theorizt Theodore Adorno (1935) who argued that the Hollywood movie industry was `mimetic and infantile' and a vehicle of

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bourgeois ideology. As Adorno wrote in a letter to Walter Benjamin, there is nothing revolutionary in having an expertise in Chaplain movies (ibid.). This view of consumers of popular culture as `passive' and ìncorporative' can also be seen in certain literature on media sport audiences. It is apparent that a large proportion of the literature on sport fans sets up a binary opposition (Derrida 1976) between those who primarily follow sport through the mass media and those who regularly attend `live' sport events. As considered in chapter two Wann et al. (2001) draw a distinction between `direct' forms of sport consumption, such as attending `live' games, and ìndirect' forms, such as following these through the mass media. Though Wann et al. make no value judgements regarding these two forms of consumption, it is apparent that some literature views media consumption as a secondary and lesser form of sport support. For instance, Morse (1983) has suggested that the sport media audiences are isolated from the event and therefore forgo the communal pleasures experienced by the `live' spectators, and as considered in chapter two Redhead (1993, 1997) argues that fans who primarily follow football through mass media resources can be viewed as a `passive' form of support. This perspective has been readily accepted in many other contemporary considerations of sport media audiences, such as Boyle and Haynes (2000: 189) who discuss `passive . . . armchair supporters' and also in the ®gure of the `couch potato' sport fan (see Wenner and Gantz 1998). Media audiences and, frequently within this, sport audiences are often seen as the `product' and òutcome' of media processes. For instance, though Rinehart (1998) seeks to consider the àctive' role supporters play at a `live' sport event (as `players all'), this sits uncomfortably with his discussion of how sport media shows `construct the audience', and then `shape' and `direct' it (ibid.: 108±110). However, from the 1970s onwards, media studies have increasingly recognized the (potentially) àctive' role of audiences; beginning most notably with the publication of Stuart Hall's (1980 [1973]) Èncoding and Decoding in the Television Discourse' (Storey 1996). This paper recognized that media audiences were not a homogeneous group who all uniformly consumed mass media resources in the same way, but that audiences could take up different positions in their perception of this. Hall suggested that the `meaning' of a media text involved three distinctive moments. First, the text is èncoded' with meaning in its production by media professionals. Second, once the text is created it exists as a media discourse, which is constructed through existing language and codes but is also `now open . . . to the play of polysemy' (Storey 1996: 11). Finally, in its third moment, the text is given meaning by how it is `decoded' by its audience and located in their everyday lives. In this third moment, Hall (1980) suggests an audience can take up three positions in relation to the text. First, is what he calls the `dominanthegemonic' position; this is when the audience accepts the messages directly as encoded in their production. Second, is the `negotiated' position, which involves à mixture of both adaptive and oppositional elements' (ibid.: 13). Third, is the


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òppositional' code where the audience decodes the media text in different (and sometimes) oppositional ways to how it was initially intended (encoded). This recognition of the potential àctivity' of audience members has led discussions of fan culture and media audiences to consider in more depth how the reception of mass media resources is located within people's everyday lives. For instance, Whannel (1998: 228) in response to the argument of Morse (1983) that media audiences are isolated suggests: The opposition between the communal stadium experiences and the isolated male viewer has problems. Much television is watched in groups ± sports probably more so, indeed sport, is more likely to be watched in communal viewing situations, whether in living rooms, or bars, than most forms of television. Morse's analysis discounts the important social dimension of television ± watching with others, and talking about it the next day. This perspective recognizes that media use is always `located' somewhere. This has led to an increased interest in not only how the mass media are consumed, but also where this takes place. As Barker (1999: 115±116) suggests in relation to television use: Watching television is a matter not only of textual meaning but also of the place of television within the rhythms and routines of everyday domestic life. In particular, watching television is something we commonly do in speci®c domestic spaces, for example the `living room', with other people to whom we are often, though not always, connected by family relationship. Thus, writers have begun to take an interest in the domestic spaces in which television is watched and to suggest connections between spaces, activities and the construction of identities. As Barker (1999) continues, spaces are not èmpty' but rather ®lled with social signi®cance and meaning, and where and with whom a mass media text is consumed can signi®cantly shape how this is consumed and its construction of meaning; not just for television, but also magazines or newspapers read at work and discussed with colleagues, radios shows listened to in the car, Internet sites surfed with friends, or a variety of other possible ways media use can be located within social spaces and networks. This indicates that not only is mass media use physically `located' within certain spaces, but it is also socially `located' as well. The mass media are frequently consumed in social groups, and even if we consume this alone, it will often be drawn on in conversations with others, and as I will argue later the mass media also provides resources to fuel individuals' own performances, identity and patterns of production. Moreover, our understanding of any media text and the meaning we attach to it will be shaped by our existing frame of reference. Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998), drawing on the work

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of Appadurai (1990), suggest that the mass media and its in¯uence constantly surrounds us in our everyday lives. Like the landscape that lies beneath our feet and shapes the very nature of the world around us, but at the same time often goes quite unnoticed, the mass media envelop us in a mediascape. Even if we try and block ourselves off from the mass media, do not own a television and do not buy newspapers, their in¯uence and presence are still there through the environment in which we live and the people who surround us. This point is illustrated by Whannel (1998: 230±231): It would be very hard to locate anyone who, during 1994±5, had not heard of O.J. Simpson. Major media stories like the O.J. case are everywhere ± we don't consume them, we absorb them by osmosis ± they are part of the air that we breathe. A boxing match featuring Mike Tyson cannot be isolated from all the other media images of Tyson which we may have consumed. The meanings that are embodied in Tyson are the product of this, and also a product of the history of representation of boxers, the heavyweight championship, black versus white and so on. Jack Johnson, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X and Michael Jackson are all part of the culturally available imagery within which we might make sense of Tyson, and how can the audience for this set of images be de®ned? However, too frequently media use is studied in isolation to wider social patterns of interaction, without seeking to understand how these inform, and are in turn informed by, social networks and relations. As Meyrowitz (1986: x) suggests: `few studies examined both media and interpersonal interaction as part of the same system of ``behaving'' or responding to the behaviour of others'. In recent years, certain literature within media studies has become increasingly interested in how individuals draw on and use media resources in their own creativity and processes of production. As considered in previous chapters within this book, audiences will often draw on media resources and consumer goods to fuel their everyday performances and construct their identities. This focus (which we can equate with Abercrombie and Longhurst's spectacle/performance paradigm) moves away from considering audiences and consumers as the end-point of a process of production (as is still the case with the work of Hall 1980), towards a consideration of acts of production of audiences and an understanding of cycles of production and consumption (Warde 1990, 1992). However, as with most typologies, it is often dif®cult to locate precisely the work of certain authors within the three paradigm model of audience research as set out by Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) (see chapter two), and this is a potential limitation that they themselves recognize (ibid.: 121). For instance, the work of de Certeau (1984) cross-cuts both the incorporation/resistance and spectacle/performance paradigms. As considered in the previous chapter, de Certeau (1984) suggests that readers of popular culture can draw on this as a site of `resistance' and engage in a `guerrilla warfare' in subverting the intended meaning and use of these


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texts. This aspect of de Certeau's work, and its in¯uence on others and in particular Fiske (1989a, 1989b, 1993), can be seen to sit within an incorporation/ resistance paradigm, as here the audience is seen as `resistant' to dominant ideology, which acts upon them. However, the work of de Certeau, and in particular its application by Jenkins (1992), is far more subtle than this paradigm model allows. For de Certeau, and in particular Jenkins, both consider how audiences draw on media resources to fuel their own production and performances, blurring the distinction between performer and audience. For instance, Jenkins (1992) suggests that fans are often dissatis®ed with the character or story progressions of some cult media shows, or frustrated at the limited number of episodes or stories òf®cially' produced. Hence, fans will `poach' storylines or characters from these texts and produce their own narratives. These may take the form of stories, pictures, songs or similar for their own consumption, but also may create new texts to be publicly consumed by publishing these in fanzines, on the Internet or similar. Hence, Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998: 121) suggest that much of the work on active audiences sits more comfortably within their spectacle/performance paradigm: It can be suggested that much of the literature on fans, at least in its early stages, was driven by concerns which arose from the Incorporation/ Resistance paradigm. Thus, for example, the studies were concerned to examine the way in which sectors of the audience were active in response to dominant forms of mass media. Moreover, it was also suggested that such activity represented a form of resistance to the dominant messages contained in the text which on the face of it represented forms of dominant ideology . . . However, it can be argued that ultimately such studies are better understood with the SPP [Spectacle/Performance Paradigm] not the IRP [Incorporation/Resistance Paradigm] as demonstrating the construction of alternative fan's communities based on the generation of particular forms of identi®cation and identity. The dif®culty encountered in locating the work of such authors as de Certeau (1984) and most notably Jenkins (1992) within this three-paradigm model is the lack of awareness of the continued importance of social power within the third paradigm, the spectacle/performance paradigm. As suggested in chapter two, though Abercrombie and Longhurst adopt a post-structuralist Foucauldian approach to social power, this does not necessarily preclude the possibility of resistance within this. For Foucault, power is knowledge, but unlike Marx, Foucault suggests there is no alternative (emancipatory) knowledge. This has led some to question Foucault's application as a critical theorist and suggest the futility of a theory that appears to resign us to our fate. However, Ransom (1997) suggests that the fact that we are the very cogs that make up the mechanisms of power affords us the ideal opportunity to disrupt its workings and challenge it. As he argues

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`the fact that we are vehicles of disciplinary power reveals . . . not the omnipotence of power buts its fragility' (ibid.: 36). Ransom's (1997) argument follows that Foucault directs us towards the fragility and weaknesses in the knowledge/power relationship. Too often Foucault's writings are read to suggest that power and knowledge are one and the same, collapsible into each other, but rather it was the nature of this relationship that interested Foucault, and that this is a `relationship' (and not one and the same) suggests room for `manoeuvre' between them. And in particular it is the `subject', and their role within power relations, that Foucault turns a great deal of his attention towards in his later works ± and in particular from the ®rst volume of the La VolenteÂ de Saviour 1 in 1976 until the end of his life (Schrift 1995). Hence, it is crucial that we recognize the continued importance of social power relations within the spectacle/performance paradigm, but at the same time acknowledge the increasing complexity, and sometimes hidden nature, of contemporary power relations. That power relations operate through individuals, should not deny, but rather highlight, the importance of agency in constructing social relationships. As Barker (1999: 145) argues: To regard the self and identities as both contingent and determined does not mean that we are not original. While cultural identity is a social accomplishment, our individuality can be understood in terms of the speci®c ways in which the social resources of the self are arranged. This is, while we are all subject to the ìmpress of history', the particular form that we take, the speci®c arrangements of discursive elements, is unique to each individual for we have all had unique patterns of gendered relations, class structures, ethnic cultures, friends and family as discursive resources. Maintaining an awareness of social power relations is also crucial in recognizing that media resources and consumer goods are not completely open to their reinterpretation and endless reinvention within individuals' everyday lives (see chapter eight). Furthermore, it is important to recognize the unequal access and limited opportunities afforded to certain marginalized groups within society. That is to say, though popular culture may provide resources from which audiences can actively draw, access to these is not necessarily open (to the same degree) to all. For instance, it is evident poverty will limit a person's access to media and consumer resources. Furthermore, numerous authors have highlighted the `masculine' focus of sport in the mass media. The mass media tends to focus its attention primarily upon men's sport (Wenner and Gantz 1998), and Cooper-Chen (1994) has highlighted that sport is often located within television schedules to ®t in with men's work patterns. Moreover, Morley (1986) has highlighted the differing ways men and women frequently utilize the mass media. For instance, Morley suggests many women will often watch television while carrying out domestic chores, as the distinction between work and leisure for many women is a lot less clear-cut than it is for many men.


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Barker (1999) (amongst others) has also suggested that media texts do not necessarily address the interests and life experiences of ethnic minorities. However, as I argued in the previous chapter, these factors do not necessarily preclude marginalized social groups from participating in media and fan cultures. For instance, Wenner and Gantz (1998) suggest that though women generally do watch less sport than men, when differing levels of interest in sport are taking into consideration (and controlled for) the difference between men and women in their use of sport media largely disappears. Hence, focusing solely on the marginalization and exclusion of certain groups from mass media and consumer resources overlooks their patterns of participation in this, and hence, tends to view fan culture (including sport fans) as homogeneous, and adopts a solely masculine ethnocentric approach. Hence, as I have argued earlier, focus needs to be placed upon understanding not only patterns of exclusion, but also individual patterns of consumption and production, and how these vary and are shaped by numerous social divisions including social class, ethnicity and gender. Hence, it is important to move consideration of sport audiences away from discussions of incorporation and/or resistance, towards an understanding of how sport is located and experienced in individuals' everyday lives. However, this does not mean that issues of social power are absent from this debate, and it is important to recognize continued concerns, relating to unequal access to mass media and consumer goods and how contemporary power relations still afford individuals room to `manoeuvre' within these.

Sport fans on the Internet For many people the Internet is taken simply to mean the slick and well produced websites of major corporations and organizations, including those of sport clubs and leagues. However, the Internet involves a diverse array of material and resources available to its users and utilizes a variety of formats. Sport related websites include not only the òf®cial' sites of teams, clubs and sporting organizations, but also those of associated companies and sponsors, news and information sites, fantasy leagues, gambling sites and a whole myriad of fan produced sites covering every imaginable sport and almost every aspect of these. Moreover, the Internet is not only a static text that its users passively consume, but rather it involves higher levels of participation than most other forms of mass media such as television, radio and print media. This is particularly evident in Internet based newsgroups and mailing lists, but also in the bulletin boards of websites, which are constructed from the contributions and participation of users. The Internet has been criticized as both a consequence of and contributor to the individualization of society. It has been suggested by certain authors, such as Postman (1993), that the Internet dehumanizes and isolates its users. As Rob Shields (1996b: 5) argues:

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Part IV: Everyday life Technology is often viewed as a source of separation. In allowing interaction at a distance, ®rst the telegraph, then the telephone and now the computer have negated the limitations of physical presence. Conversations are held with distant and absent others. Nonetheless, the local and the copresent remain privileged. There is an all too easy tendency to contrast the here and now with the distant.

The Internet has also been extensively criticized for what is seen as its key role in the proliferation of consumer culture. New media technologies, such as the Internet, are seen to consolidate the position of consumer capitalism. Webster (1995) argues that ìnformation developments are central to the spread of consumerism since they provide the means by which people are persuaded by corporate capitalism that it is both a desirable and an inevitable way of life' (cited in Miles 1998: 75). Furthermore, following on from Baudrillard (1998), Oh and Arditi (2000) suggest that the Internet helps both create and satisfy an endless stream of consumer desires: Take the ®rst point Baudrillard raises in The Consumer Society (1998), the profusion of goods. With the Internet, this profusion attains a new dimension: it denotes not just an abundance but limitless possibility. The Internet gives the impression that everything is attainable . . . the magical effect of this hyperabundance takes on a new dimension in which any need can be invented and immediately satis®ed . . . [where] shoppers are taken even deeper by their very own desires into the labyrinth of consumerism . . . (ibid: 83). Evidence to support the argument that the Internet primarily acts as a medium to invent and gratify consumer needs for corporate capitalism can be found extensively in the world of sport. The Internet has proved a particularly effective way of teams and leagues reaching supporters, and both new and old `customers', in the privacy of their own homes without relying on the aid of other media sources such as television and the print press. Bob Roberts (2001) in the British football fanzine When Saturday Comes questions the motives of teams such as Glasgow Celtic who have used the Internet to broadcast `live' coverage of their games. He suggests that rather than simply providing their fans access, this has been motivated by reaching new markets outside the reaches of domestic television broadcasts. As he argues `no prizes for guessing why the club sees this as a valuable marketing exercise: there can't be many supporters in Scotland who don't already own a replica shirt, but there are plenty in the rest of the world' (ibid.: 32). However, the Internet does provide both information and some degree of access for (some) supporters. As McDaniel and Sullivan (1998: 267) suggest: Today the World Wide Web (WWW) offers the sports audience more than scores and stories. Sports discussion groups proliferate the Usenet pages


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(Malec, 1996). Fans can visit interactive sports sites that offer fantasy games, sports software and player statistics; likewise, they can see photographs, video clips and read feature stories on their favourite teams and athletes (Bruckman, 1996) . . . [and] . . . Sports spectators can become true armchair managers, as they play fantasy games with one another on the WWW. Furthermore, the Internet can provide a link for supporters to sites of community ± both new and old. For instance, Mitra's (2000) consideration of (ethnically) Indian users of the Internet suggests that this can provide for some people an important link between them and their ethnic community and identity. This is particularly apparent with geographically mobile individuals who may live outside their home country and culture (ibid.). Likewise, the Internet can provide access to `home' sport teams for those who have moved away. This can take the form of information and reports, but also link people into more inter-personal relationships, such as bulletin boards, newsgroups or Internet discussion sites. As Bale (2000: 91) suggests: A community of fans is a social network of interacting individuals but it is not necessary for such a community to be concentrated in a de®ned territory such as a city. The development of televisions, international transport and the Internet has meant that today and in the future fandom can and will exist as a community without propinquity. The Internet (along with other technologies) provides individuals with access to existing communities, but can also expand the scope of these and help create and nurture new ones. Individuals can now connect and form af®liations and allegiances to sport via solely electronic means. As cited earlier, Ian Taylor (1995) argued that increasingly individuals are likely to form sporting allegiances at the `level of the imagination'. That is to say, rather than connecting with sport on the basis of location or family tradition (as have been traditionally prominent) many individuals form af®liations on the basis of more personal factors, such as ethnicity or personal choice. In particular, media technologies such as television, radio and the press have increased the possibility for individuals to connect with more distant sports. However, this àccess' has been increased greatly by the advent of the Internet. Unlike other forms of mass media, which are restricted in both range and scope, such as limited to the number of television and radio stations and the time that can be dedicated to each topic, the Internet provides never-ending access to an almost limitless quantity of information and resources on the most speci®c of topics. The majority of even the most specialist and speci®c interests, often overlooked by other forms of mass media, are catered for and covered on the Internet, and this is particularly true for fan interests and cultures. And it is this specialization, which allows individuals to ®nd information on speci®c interests, that creates a particularly potent sense of coherence and community on the Internet

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(Mitra 2000). This is especially apparent with those who, as Mitra suggests, are geographically mobile, but I would also add too, those who are socially mobile as well. Individuals who may feel a loss of `traditional' forms of community, such as those based upon geographical, family or social backgrounds, which they may have left behind, can ®nd communities that complement their speci®c interests and lifestyles (or even desired lifestyles) readily available on the Internet (see chapter three). However, the argument I have advocated throughout this book is that communities mediated through new technologies such as the mass media, and likewise the Internet, are not necessarily any more imaged than any other forms of community (Anderson 1983). The Internet is not just a medium through which individuals gain access to a particular text (be that a sport or whatever), but it is in itself a cultural text, which is not just passively consumed by its users, but created and recreated by a signi®cant proportion of these. Though many individuals may simply draw on the Internet as a source of information, many others will actively contribute to the structure and contents of this; and this is particularly evident within many fan cultures. Many Internet users will frequently construct their own websites, newsgroups, mailing lists or discussion sites, or actively contribute to those that already exist. Hills (2002: 180) suggests that Internet fan communities (and in particular he discusses the contributors to alt.tv.X-Files), rather than being understood as an imagined community, need to be viewed as a community of imagination. As he argues: `this is a community which, rather than merely imagining itself as coexistent in empty clocked time, constitutes itself precisely through a common affective engagement, and thereby through a common respect for a speci®c potential space' (ibid.). Hence, Internet communities often involve active participation within this culture, and this is particularly the case of many fan mailing lists and newsgroups, which usually contain a limited number of contributors and users; further increasing the sense of coherence and community for these members. Clerc (2000) suggests that in some cases online communities consist of the same members as those also present in òff-line' communities. Friends, or people who have met in face-to-face situations, may use the Internet as a way of communicating and extending their social interaction. However, for even those who do not `know' (in a face-to-face sense) the people they are engaging with on the Internet, it is still the case that the use of the Internet (like any other form of mass media) needs to be understood in relation to its location within wider social patterns. As Shields (1996b: 3) argues ìt is essential to treat telecommunications and computer-mediated communications networks as local phenomena, as well as global networks . . . [and] embedded within locally speci®c routines of daily schedules and the `place-ballets' of individuals . . .'. That is to say, rigid distinctions between `virtual' (online) and `real' (off-line) worlds are futile as the uses and practices of the Internet are always located within (`real') everyday life patterns, much the same as any other form of mass


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media. People's social networks will cross-cut with those encountered on the Internet, people's off-line interests will inform what they look at and participate in online (and vice versa), and the information they gain from the Internet can be drawn on (as with other forms of media) as a resource in fuelling off-line social networks, social performances and identity construction. Again, the idea of `performative consumption' (Hills 2002) appears of use here, as the Internet provides consumer resources from which individuals can construct individual performances and their identities. Moreover, this potential for participation within Internet communities is far greater than that available in other forms of mass media. For instance, though cheap printing facilities have allowed fans to produce and contribute to printed publications, such as fanzines, the level of production and contribution to these is far less than that made possible by the Internet. However, it is important to recognize that this potential new level of access and participation is not readily available to all, and that access to the Internet remains restricted by a number of social factors. First, Shields (1996b) suggests that the Internet still remains primarily the reserve of educated `Western' elites. Though in recent years the level of participation on the Internet has spread throughout the world, it is still evident that the vast majority of Internet sites and contributors are drawn from a small number of advanced capitalist countries, and most notably the USA. Moreover, within these nations, access to the Internet is still limited on the basis of economic resources. Though home computer technologies have become much more readily available in recent years, and access to the Internet has also signi®cantly increased in public places such as schools and libraries, it is still the case that use of the Internet is restricted for those who lack the economic, educational and cultural resources to access it, such as the poor. Furthermore, the level of participation on the Internet by women is signi®cantly less than that of men (Clerc 2000). Even though women constitute a large proportion of media and cult fan communities òff-line', Clerc (2000) suggests, women's social marginalization, which commonly sees them economically disadvantaged and marginalized in their use of technology, means that they are a lot less frequent in ònline' (Internet) communities. This is particularly apparent with Internet sport fan sites, which Redhead (1997: 32) suggests frequently replicate the male dominated world of `pub culture'. Hence, as with other types of mass media it is important to understand both the opportunities and limitations afforded by the Internet. Though it can provide access and participation within fan cultures for its users, use of the Internet is largely restricted on the basis of numerous social, cultural and economic factors. The Internet, as with other forms of mass media, is not in itself inherently `good' or `bad', as Meyrowitz (1986: 7) argues, `media, like walls and windows, can hide and they can reveal. Media can create a sense of sharing and belonging or a feeling of exclusion and isolation. Media can reinforce a ``them vs. us'' feeling or they can undermine it'.

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Sport fans and digital gaming Digital 2 gaming has a relatively long history. It is generally accepted that the ®rst 3 computer game (Spacewar) was developed in 1962 by researchers at Harvard University (Game Research 2003). The ®rst home-based digital game Pong, was released by Atari in 1972. This simple game consisted of a games console, which was ®tted up to a standard television set, and the game itself consisted of two white rectangular `paddles' on either side of a black background, which moved up and down to knock a square `ball' backwards and forwards between them. However, it was the release of Space Invaders in 1978 which ®nally cemented the place of digital games as a major leisure industry. Digital gaming, both in the home and arcades, expanded rapidly throughout the 1980s, becoming ®rmly established as an industry to rival those of the music and ®lm businesses. The global sale of computer and console games alone now exceeds US$10 billion annually (Wright et al. 2002). The British digital gaming industry grosses forty per cent more than total cinema boxof®ce receipts, and eighty per cent more than video rentals (Poole 2000) and digital games sales now outnumber those of books in both the UK and USA (Bryce and Rutter 2001). Moreover, digital gaming is also no longer the preserve (or marketed towards) young children. The ®rst generation of Pong players have now grown up, and increasingly games and consoles are aimed and priced towards older, more af¯uent, game players (Poole 2000). A major genre of the digital game industry is sport related games. It is apparent that the ®rst home-based game, Pong, was a simple form of tennis. This was later re®ned into a basic form of football, with four paddles and two sets of goal posts, but this never really took off (Poole 2000). In 1984, games designer and writer, Chris Crawford suggested that he believed that `sports games will not attract a great deal of design attention in the future (cited in Poole 2000: 51). However, soon after Crawford's comments, computer graphics advanced greatly allowing a new generation of sport related digital games to be developed, such as Ocean's Daley Thompson's Decathlon (ibid.). Today almost every sport has its own digital games version. Not only soccer, ice hockey, American football, golf, rugby and tennis, but there also exist games based on more sedate sports such as ®shing (such as EA Sports' Championship Bass Fishing). Furthermore, not only are there games of each and every sport, but also games of speci®c sporting events, such as the soccer World Cup or European Cup editions of games that allow you to play out these competitions and determine your own winner. Many sport clubs, teams and even individual sport stars also have their own individually endorsed digital games, and in the US digital games for the NFL are now only second to replica shirts in generating income from merchandising (O'Connor 2002). Sport management games are also extremely popular. The most successful of these in the UK is undoubtedly the Championship Manager series, which allows players to manage any one of a number of association football teams in their regional leagues. The current version of the game, Championship Manager 03/04,


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features over 40 national leagues, and a database of over 200,000 players, managers, coaches and scouts, based meticulously on the traits and characteristics of real individuals. Championship Manager has hundreds of Internet sites dedicated to it (and according to Stuart [2002] more than Manchester United ), its own magazine, and has been the subject of numerous newspaper and magazine articles. As the online magazine Total Video Games described it, it is not just a game, Championship Manager is a `true cultural phenomenon' (Total Video Games, n.d.). The recent rise in popularity of sport related digital games in the last couple of decades has led Giulianotti (1999: 85) to suggest that football `has indeed come home', and has promoted writers to question whether `virtual' sport may be replacing the `real' 4 versions of these in children's interests. As O'Connor (2002: 2) writes: The rate at which these games are ¯ying off the shelves would suggest more football is being played on home computers than local ®elds. Which raises the question, could it be possible that virtual football is even bigger than the real thing?' As computer technology advances, digital games are becoming increasingly `realistic'. Not only do many digital sport games include the names of real teams and players, many also have skin colour, hair and even faces, which match the actual sport stars they are meant to represent. The movements and body frames of the players on screen are often modelled on real athletes, so that the game player can control the movement of players as they would actually move and react. As the advertisement for the recent Playstation 2 game David Beckham Soccer (Rage 2002) heralds: `train him, play like him, be like him'. In order to expand the overall realism of the game, digital games will also frequently feature aspects beyond the actual sport themselves, such as recreating realistic crowd noises, or using backdrops based on real stadiums or arenas. Increasingly the motto of the software company EA Sports, ìf it's in the game, it's in the game', becomes evermore relevant to modern sport related digital games. Moreover, many digital games go beyond what is possible outside of these, and become èven better than the real thing'. For example, digital games allow the players to play out scenarios that may not otherwise be possible; such as pitting the skills of classic teams or athletes, separated by decades, against each other. For instance, matching Lennox Lewis against Mohammad Ali, or the current England squad against the 1966 World Cup winning team. Yates and Littleton (2001) suggest that increasingly the digital gaming industry is converging with other forms of media, such as ®lm and video, but I would suggest that the in¯uence of gaming is also beginning to spread to other areas, such as the sport industry. As already suggested, digital gaming is proving to be a very pro®table form of merchandising for many sport clubs and athletes.

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Digital games companies also contribute ®nancially to sport clubs via advertising on billboards and hoardings at sport venues, and sponsoring teams shirts and sporting competitions. For instance, in 1997 Sega paid US$10 million to sponsor the UEFA Champions League, and in 1999/2000 were the shirt sponsors of Arsenal, Sampdoria and St Etienne (Poole 2000). It is also suggested that athletes and managers will use digital games, not only for relaxation, but also in `scouting' opposition players and new talent. For instance, Stuart (2002) in the football magazine FourFourTwo recounts the (supposedly factual) story of how the Italian footballer Demetrio Albertini used Championship Manager to show his manager several of the younger England players that the then England manager Peter Taylor had picked for their upcoming match. The same article cites many professional footballers who admit to being avid players of the game. Digital gaming has also had at least one direct in¯uence on the outcome of a match, when former Liverpool FC and England goalkeeper blamed a run of bad form for Liverpool (which earned him the tabloid nickname of `Calamity James') on too many late nights playing Playstation (O'Connor 2002). However, digital gaming has often been viewed in largely negative terms. As Bryce and Rutter (2002: 245) write `. . . this growing popularity of computer gaming and its strong association exclusively with children and adolescents has been frequently constructed as problematic by parents, politicians, teachers, and the media'. Moreover, a large proportion of the (in particular, early) academic literature on digital gaming has focused on the (assumed) negative consequences of this. In particular, digital gaming is most frequently accused of encouraging (or even stimulating) violence in its players, and as being socially isolating (see Cowell and Payne 2000). It is evident that a sizable proportion of digital games involve some degree of violence, and for many, this constitutes their central theme. Violence in digital games is undoubtedly popular, and this is also true for some sport related games. For instance, the chief selling point of the soccer game Red Card (Midway 2002) is that it allows the gamer to carry out numerous illegal tackles and fouls. Furthermore, the release in early 2002 of a (possibly the ®rst) `football hooligan' computer game, Hooligans: Storm Over Europe from Dutch publishers Darxabre, con®rms football hooliganism's location as a source of home-based entertainment, and furthermore, provides another source of `safe' participation within the `hooligan' world. As the of®cial website for Hooligans suggests, `this is a real time strategy game with a twist' (Hooligans-thegame 2002). Within the game you (the player) control a group of `hooligans', whose commitment and loyalty you must maintain by feeding them alcohol, drugs and ensuring regular bouts of violence. The object of the game is quite simply to `become the most notorious group of hooligans in Europe' and to achieve this `you must kill, maim and destroy the opposing hooligan teams' (ibid.). Signi®cantly, the game is won by `catching the public's attention' and becoming `the most notorious hooligans in Europe and the world'. As Redhead (1997: 39) suggests, an act of hooliganism is not `real' if it is not reported by the mass media and hence


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given the legitimacy of the mass media; even in this digital world of hooliganism your `success' is measured in its re¯ected importance within public opinion. However, as Cowell and Payne (2000) suggest, evidence for the relationship between digital game violence and an increased tendency for violence in players, is largely contradictory and inconclusive. The assertion that digital gaming is ìsolating' is also questionable. Bryce and Rutter (2001) suggest that digital gaming can involve a virtual, psychological and physical presence. First, in terms of virtual presence, they suggest that players are present within the game, as they are active participants within this. As suggested earlier in this chapter, research on mass media audiences has increasingly recognized audiences as àctive' in their use of media, and as Wright et al. (2002) suggest, digital gaming is an expression of human performance. However, players of digital games are often conceptualized as ìndividuals', whereas users of other forms of mass media (such as television viewers) are termed àudiences' (Yates and Littleton 2001: 115±116). Poole (2000) cites the argument of Benjamin that cinema gave its audiences the opportunity to travel to places they could never have experienced before, and argues that digital gaming is even more `revolutionary' than cinema as gaming involves a far greater level of participation by its àudience': Videogames are still a very young medium. Yet videogames already ± it can hardly be denied ± constitute a type of entertainment every bit as revolutionary, in its form, as cinema was for Benjamin. If it's adventurous travelling the chthonic prisoner is after, videogames can deliver in spades, for the player is free to wander at will around an imaginary world, meeting interesting people . . . (Poole 2000: 101). Second, Bryce and Rutter (2001) suggest that gaming can involve a psychological presence. In making this argument they draw on the work of the psychologist Csikszentmihalyi (1990) on `¯ow'. Csikszentmihalyi suggests that ¯ow experience involves an intense involvement, clarity of goals, lack of selfconsciousness and a feeling of total control over the activity (cited in Bryce and Rutter 2001). Bryce and Rutter suggest that just as participants in certain other leisure activities, such as rock-climbing and chess, can achieve a state of ¯ow, so too, can digital gamers. Hence, the gamer, becomes psychologically ìn tune' with the game. Both of these points do not necessarily challenge the argument that digital gaming is an isolating experience; though they do suggest that this is not necessarily passive. However, Bryce and Rutter's third point, that gaming can also involve a physical presence, highlights the social nature of gaming. It is evident that gaming can, and frequently does, involve social interaction. However, Squire (2002) suggests there has been little academic study on how digital gaming is located within people's social interactions and everyday lives. He suggests that the few who have sought to consider the location of gaming in social patterns have frequently suggested that gaming can be a very `sociable'

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activity 5. For instance, Squire (2002) cites the study of Mitchell (1985: 134), which suggested that digital gaming enhanced family interactions and was `reminiscent of days of Monopoly, checkers, card games, and jigsaw puzzles'. This is a point reinforced by Poole (2000: 178) who suggests that digital gaming ìs similar to the pleasure of playing doubles in tennis, or playing a rubber of bridge; perhaps it is closer, however, to that of boardgames, which have always been advertised as social tools, fun for friends and family'. Hence, digital gaming can bring people together, either friends or family, in a local social setting. And this is particularly the case for most sport related games, which most frequently allow two, or often more, players to compete against each other in competition. In fact, much of the enjoyment derived from sport related games is from competing against other players, rather than against the computer itself ± and the social nature of digital gaming is not necessarily restricted to the home. Bryce and Rutter's (2000) study of The UK Console Championships highlights the growing popularity of gaming competitions and conventions. These, they suggest, are highly sociable occasions, where gamers meet up and compete against each other ± with sport related games being a popular format within these competitions. Furthermore, the rise of the Internet means that gamers do not necessarily have to meet face-to-face to interact and engage in gaming together. Internet gaming has become increasingly popular in recent years. The most prevalent online games are usually combat-based games such as Counter-Strike (see Wright et al. 2002) or role-playing games such as EverQuest (see Ahuna, n.d.). However, online sport related games do exist, most notably fantasy leagues and sport management games (such as fantasyleague.com and FootballDotManager). However, the Internet also allows digital gamers to interact and exchange information, strategies, cheats and gossip, and Squire (2002) suggests that these in themselves can be seen to constitute fan communities. As suggested earlier, Championship Manager has a huge online following, with hundreds of websites and discussion boards, dedicated to this one series. The òf®cial' website for Championship Manager contains an area entitled `the community', where fans of the game can post messages and engage in discussions about this (Bedwell 2003). Moreover, this page also arranges regular `meetups', where players can gather locally to discuss and share their common interest. Digital gaming can provide the basis of not only digital interactions (such a playing games in groups or via the Internet), but can also form the basis of face-to-face social interaction away from the gaming environment. Furthermore, many games (especially sport games such as Championship Manager) provide gamers with a vast quantity of information and statistics based upon `real' players and teams. This can greatly increase their knowledge of the sport and its players and, as with other forms of mass media, be drawn on by individuals as a resource in fuelling their knowledge and performances in everyday interactions. There is likely to be considerable crossover between those who play and follow a sport, and those who play digital games versions of these (O'Connor


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2002). As suggested earlier, Stuart (2002) cites several examples of professional footballers who indicated that they are avid players of Championship Manager. Furthermore, my own research (Crawford 2000) suggests that not only can an interest in sport help stimulate an interest in the digital version of these, but also, digital gaming can likewise help generate interest in sport. This, I suggest, may be particularly true for many ìmported' sports. For instance, many North American sports such as American football, basketball, baseball and ice hockey are popular themes for digital games, and for some people outside North America (particularly in regions where these sports are less popular), digital gaming may be their ®rst contact with them. For instance, British ice hockey fan `Larry' (male, aged mid-30s) suggested it was his interest in digital games that ®rst attracted him to watching ice hockey: . . . the reason I went [to watch ice hockey] was because I got into those Sega Megadrive games. At the time, you couldn't buy a decent footy game, but there was a hockey game. So, EA Sports' NHL `92, or whatever it was, I just got utterly addicted to that . . . (personal communication 1999 6 ). Furthermore, fellow ice hockey fan `Gerry' (male, aged 18) also indicated that he had friends who became interested in ice hockey via digital gaming: . . . I have one or two friends, who sort of like, go to some games . . . [. . .] . . . there are people who ask about it, and have an interest, but don't go . . . they're people who have mainly got into it through NHL computer games . . . (personal communication 1999). Though digital gaming is only one example of numerous factors that can in¯uence an individual in their sporting interests, I would suggest that this highlights the need for further research on the relationship between sport fan culture and digital gaming.

Summary Sport and the mass media have a long relationship that has intensi®ed in recent decades. Sport receives extensive coverage on television, radio and in the printed press, and is widely covered on the Internet. Fans themselves also produce their own publications, such as fanzines and sport dedicated Internet sites. This popularity for sport has also spread to other genres and sport is now the subject of numerous formats including quiz shows, chat shows and soap operas. Sport has also become a popular subject for other forms of entertainment, with books, ®lm, music and digital games all featuring, or inspired by, sport. In particular, `football hooliganism' has become a popular genre for the entertainments industry, which allows people to peer into and voyeuristically experience this `deviant' culture.

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So intense is the media interest and coverage of sport that many sport stars have risen to the status of celebrity, where their lives are avidly covered and scrutinized in the mass media. In particular, certain sport performers (most notably men) become built up as heroes, others are vili®ed as villains, while others experience a rollercoaster treatment in the media, which sees them both built up and knocked down. Sport has often been used as the basis of ®ctional soap operas, but the contemporary reporting of sport, and in particular the discussion of sporting celebrities, has come to resemble a melodrama, surrounded by gossip, rumour and scandal. However, the focus of this chapter is primarily the use and importance of the mass media in the everyday lives of sport fans. I suggest that the majority of considerations of mass media sport audiences have been located within an incorporation/resistance paradigm (see chapter two), and in particular, tend to see media audiences as `passive' (Redhead 1993, 1997) and ìsolated' from the `live' sport event (Morse 1983). However, I suggest that since Hall (1980), most media studies have recognized the potential activity of mass media audiences. Much of this has tended to remain located within the incorporation/ resistance paradigm, such as Fiske (1989a, 1989b, 1993) who emphasizes the potential `resistance' to the dominant ideology of the mass media of certain audience members. However, Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) suggest that audience research is moving towards a new paradigm (the spectacle/performance paradigm ± see chapter two), which recognizes the diffusion of performance into everyday life and individuals' dual role as both performer and audience in their everyday life. Elements of this they suggest can be seen in the work of de Certeau (1984) and Jenkins (1992), but they are reluctant to locate this ®rmly within the spectacle/performance paradigm owing to de Certeau and Jenkins' continued emphasis on audience `resistance'. Here I suggest the dif®culty encountered by Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) in locating the work of de Certeau and Jenkins is their enthusiasm to move away from previous paradigms of audience research and reluctance to recognize that audience members still have the potential to `manoeuvre' (or even `resist') within circuits of power (Clegg 1989). Hence, while suggesting that it is important to move away from linear zero-sum models of power, which tend to see audiences as the recipients of top-down processes, towards an understanding of everyday life and social performances, it is important that we retain an understanding of the role of social power relations in this and recognize audience members' potential to (at least to a degree) `manoeuvre' within these. Finally, this chapter considers sport fans' use of new media technologies, and speci®cally the Internet and digital gaming. In relation to the Internet, though it is important to recognize that the Internet is largely driven by market and capitalist sentiments, this can provide users with information and access to communities. For instance, the Internet can link individual sport fans to existing supporter communities, and through the medium of the Internet creates


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new online communities for these fans to participate in. Furthermore, this can also provide fans with information and resources that they can draw on to fuel their social interactions and everyday performances. Digital gaming also has important and growing links with sport. Digital gaming is now a major entertainment industry, which rivals those of ®lm, music and publishing. Moreover, sport related games constitute a major genre within digital gaming. Digital gaming has often been criticized as socially isolating, but here I suggest that this (and in particular sport related games) can help mediate social interaction. Gaming can be used as a common activity for friends and family, gamers can get together at conventions, competitions and organized `meet-ups', play with others online, and furthermore, gaming can provide an additional resource for individuals to draw on to facilitate their conversations, social networks and performances.

Part V

10 Conclusion

This is a book about sport fans. Traditionally fans have been (largely) overlooked in many considerations of popular culture. Fans and audiences have tended to be viewed as an end-point, or even by-product, of processes of production and of secondary concern to the text itself. It was frequently assumed that by considering processes of production and the nature of cultural texts, it was possible to understand the audiences of these. However, in recent decades there has been a growing awareness that audiences are not necessarily passive recipients, who are homogeneous in their consumption and reception of cultural texts. Audiences, and more speci®cally individual audience members, bring their own `baggage' with them when engaging with a text, and moreover, this text will be encountered in different ways depending on the particular social situation in which this is located. To a large extent, individual audience member's patterns of reception will be informed by `structural' in¯uences, such as their ethnicity, gender and social class, however the multiple ways these social factors can be combined and interact, coupled with the myriad of different contexts and situations a text can be consumed in, and subsequently revisited in conversation, recall and memory, means that the location and meaning of cultural texts in individual social patterns and everyday life can be highly complex and multifaceted. This shift towards consideration of audience patterns has been less noticeable in sport studies than many other ®elds of popular studies. As Wann and Hamlet (1995) famously cited, only four per cent of all sport psychology and sociology focuses upon the sport fans. However, of the little (though the volume has grown since Wann and Hamlet made this estimation) sport research that focuses on fans, it is still the tendency for the majority of these to focus on macro top-down social processes or meta-narratives, which tend to overlook the everyday experiences of sport fans. It is not to say that there is no place for these studies, as it is still crucial that we retain an understanding of how the nature of sport (and wider social institutions) are shaped by factors such as patriarchy, capitalism and racism (amongst others). However, what many of these studies do is tell you what fans get, but they do not tell you what they do with it.

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Part V

Hence, the argument formulated in this book is that research on sport fans, while retaining an awareness of wider social patterns and inequalities, needs to place greater focus and emphasis on the everyday patterns, social interactions and meanings of the consumers of sport. This discussion is located within wider considerations of contemporary patterns of consumption (Holt 1995, Hills 2002). The term `consumption' within this text is used quite generally to refer not only to `person±thing' relationships (Lury 1996), but also `person±person' relationships, such as attending a `live' sport event. It must be recognized that not all fan activity necessarily involves acts of consumption, as the culture of any community exists primarily in the minds and imagination of its members (A. Cohen 1985). Late-capitalist societies are increasingly based upon the primacy of consumption (Bauman 1998a), and consequently, contemporary patterns of fan culture primarily relate (either directly or indirectly) to acts of consumption; be that buying a replica shirt, or simply recalling a football match you once attended. Theoretically, locating the study of fan culture within a framework of consumption, is also bene®cial. Too often considerations of fan culture (and in particular sport fan culture) have been too concerned with drawing distinctions between, what the authors sees as, àuthentic' and `real' forms of fan culture as opposed to ìnauthentic' and `trivial' consumer acts. Though individuals will connect with and display varying levels of dedication to, and participation within, a particular fan culture, I follow Grossberg (1992b) in suggesting that we can learn little about contemporary patterns of fan culture if we focus upon celebrating certain forms of this, and dismissing others. To a large extent this distinction between authentic fans and inauthentic consumers has been largely informed by the theoretical stance of many authors. Throughout this book the central premise has been that a large proportion of the academic literature written on sport fans has been located within, what Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998) term, an incorporation/resistance paradigm. That is to say, many considerations of contemporary sport fan culture have been concerned with considering audiences' positions as incorporative and/or resistant to in¯uences of dominant ideology. This perspective has often been informed by an over-romanticized view of `traditional' forms of sport support and a tendency to see contemporary patterns of consumption as invariably `bad'. This also largely relies on a zero-sum model of social power relations, which sees audience members as the outcome of top-down social power relations. The consequence of this theoretical focus has been that a great deal of research and discussion of fans has tended to focus on èxceptional' forms of fan culture, such as `football hooligans' or highly `dedicated' fans, and taken as evidence to support this paradigm. Hence, more òrdinary' or even `mundane' everyday forms of consumption have been largely ignored. It is primarily within these òrdinary' everyday practices that patterns of sport related consumption and fan culture are located. Hence, I suggest the most pro®table way of understanding contemporary patterns of fan culture is to understand how these are located in everyday social patterns, and how individuals play an àctive' role within the creation

Conclusion

159

of these. The term àctive' is not necessarily used in the same way as it is by others such as Fiske (1989a, 1989b) to suggest that audiences are potentially `resistant', but rather that it is individuals through their use of cultural texts that help provide these with their social signi®cance and meanings. Cultural texts (such as sport) have always played a role in many individuals' lives, as a source of conversation, recall, individual and collective memories and as a constituent of individual's identities. However, we live in a society increasingly based upon social performance and spectacle, where individuals will draw on cultural texts in the construction of their identities and their social performances. This argument is in keeping with that of the spectacle/performance paradigm as forwarded by Abercrombie and Longhurst (1998), which suggests that performances and spectacle have been `diffused' into everyday social patterns, where individuals increasingly become both performers and audience members in their everyday lives. However, what is lacking in Abercrombie and Longhurst's theorization is an awareness of the continued importance of social power relations. Abercrombie and Longhurst locate discussions of social `resistance' solely within an incorporation/resistance paradigm, and in their enthusiasm to move away from this fail to recognize the continued importance of social power. First, though a central argument within this book has been the increasing importance of surveillance as a form of social control and regulation (see chapter six), following Bottomore (1980) it is important that we recognize the continued importance of social control based upon ideology and direct action. Second, adopting a more diffuse `post-structuralist' framework of power (what Clegg [1989] refers to as a Machiavellian framework) does not necessarily mean that audiences are `powerless'. Following Ransom (1997) it is argued that individuals still possess the ability to `negotiate' and `manoeuvre' their position within contemporary circuits of power (Clegg 1989). Though within contemporary late-capitalist societies the opportunities for `rebellion' are often infrequent, isolated, short-lived and based upon individualistic consumer goals, this does not necessarily mean that `resistance' is dead, or that consideration of social power relations is irrelevant to contemporary considerations of fan cultures. The most helpful way of theorizing contemporary sport fan cultures is to view these as ¯uid and dynamic `neo-tribes' (Maffesoli 1996). Though I argue that all sport fan communities have to a large extent been ìmagined' (Anderson 1983), the proliferation of mass media resources, consumer goods and the increase in social performativity, have extended an individual's ability to form links with multiple ¯uid communities in their everyday lives. In particular, due to the decline of many `traditional' communities, such as those based upon locality and extended family networks, other sources of community, such as sport fan culture, offer individuals an opportunity to `buy into' a sense of community and `play out' their roles as active participants within these. Though sport (and sporting allegiances) have traditionally been associated with `locality', this becomes `re-invented' and `re-imagined' (King 2000b), allowing individuals to forms links with locality via consumer goods, mass media sources, their social

160

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interactions and similar ± at what Taylor (1995) refers to as, their `level of the imagination'. Hence, consumer goods and mass media become resources that individuals actively draw on in creating their own social performances and identities. However, it is still social interactions that are crucial in de®ning an individual's access to a particular community, and subsequent progression within this. Though neo-tribes are ¯uid and often temporal communities, Maffesoli (1996) asserts that one of the few social powers these retain is that of social inclusion and exclusion. Hence, for many fans their access and position within a fan culture is likely to be de®ned by their interactions and social performances with others, and their ability to ®t with the existing norms of that group. Even if an individual has no direct (face-to-face) interaction with other members of a particular fan culture, their speci®c access and position within this is likely to be shaped by their interaction with media, consumer resources and others around them. Hence, an individual's position within a fan culture is always likely to be dynamic and contingent. To this end, fan cultures should be viewed as a (moral) career, where individuals are inducted and progress along a ¯exible and dynamic career path. Though for some this progression may be facilitated via face-to-face interactions with other members of this community and be fairly linear, for others this may be based on connecting with this community via mass media resources and they may occupy rapidly changing positions along this path. Likewise, the nature and structures of this community are also likely to change over time. This book has argued for a much broader understanding of what constitutes sport fan culture and the complex and myriad of ways sport can be located and experienced in people's everyday lives. For many people, and for much of the time, sport within late-capitalist societies is almost omnipresent; it is on our televisions, in our newspapers, on the clothes people wear, advertisements that surround us and the subject of people's conversations and memories. The consumption of sport may be very ordinary for many people, but for others it can be very important in their everyday lives, their social networks and identities; and if we are to understand the social signi®cance of sport, then it is essential that we understand the multitude of meanings that this can have in people's everyday lives. For instance, at the end of the 2002±2003 English football season, the team from my home town, Wolverhampton Wanderers, won their divisional play-off gaining promotion back into the top league of English football for the ®rst time in 19 years. That day, a friend (Stephen) from back home sent me a text message, which for me, sums up the meaning sport can have for many: The whole city has just gone mad there's nothing that brings people together like this nowhere in the world would you ®nd a sense of belonging like now Its strange thing for that football, you get the violence but you also [have] the feeling of community and a common goal (personal communication 2003).

Notes

Preface 1 Since conducting this research, the team the Manchester Storm has folded and been replaced by a new out®t called the Manchester Phoenix. 2 The vast majority of players at the Manchester Storm were North American, and many fans expressed the view that they felt the whole event was sold and presented as a piece of Àmericana' (Crawford 2000). 3 I use the term `male mass spectator sports' to signify sports such as basketball, cricket, football, rugby and ice hockey, which primarily attract large crowds to watch men participate in these sports. 4 For instance, elsewhere (Crawford and Gosling 2004) I consider that though women may be attending male mass spectator sports in increasing numbers many remain marginalized within this and their patterns of support often deemed ìnauthentic' within these supporter communities ± also see chapter three of this book.

1 Introduction 1 The term `sport' is used throughout this book generically to mean not only forms of sport, such as football, cricket and rugby, but also to cover speci®c sport clubs, teams and athletes. Hence, the focus of this book is not only upon those who have an interest in sport, or particular sports, but also incorporates discussion of those with much more speci®c interests, such as allegiances to a particular team or athlete. The term `fan' is also used broadly within this text, to indicate those who have an interest in a particular subject (here most frequently sport), but as argued in chapter two, I avoid providing a rigid de®nition of this term, as to do so often draws on highly subjective distinctions of what makes a `real' fan. 2 This discussion is developed further in chapter two. 3 `The process in which goods and services are increasingly produced for the market' (Jary and Jary 1991: 94).

2 Conceptualizing sport fans 1 A zero-sum theorization of power suggests there is a ®nite amount of social power, hence the more power an individual or agency holds, the less power others may have. 2 The term aura is ®rst used by Benjamin in A Small History of Photography (1931). Offering a de®nition of the term aura proves problematic as Benjamin often used this in different ways in different contexts. Though as a general de®nition, a loss of aura can be seen as a stripping away of the uniqueness of an object and the `. . . loss of privileged status as cultural symbols' (Crane 1992: 23).

162

Notes

3 This federal law prohibits discrimination on the basis of gender in all federally funded educational institutions ± including the unequal funding of men's and women's sport teams in these institutions. 4 For further details of the methodology of these interviews see Crawford (2003). 5 All interviewees were allocated a position (or location between two positions) along the career structure as set out in Figure 1.

3 Sport fan communities 1 However, Spracklen does not indicate what makes this particular respondent an òutsider'. 2 The term `social exclusion' arose in France in the 1970s where its use was originally restricted to extremely marginalized groups, such as refugees and the very poor (Lee and Murie 1999). However, since then the term has come to refer more generally to `. . . the dynamic process of being shut out, fully or partially, from any of the social, economic, political and cultural systems which determine the integration of a person in society (Walker 1997: 8 cited in Lee and Murie 1999: 1). 3 Spracklen (2001) unfortunately provides no further details on this survey or its methodology. 4 However, as Back et al. (2001: 86) suggest, it is important not to overestimate the relationship between Far Right organizations and football hooliganisms (as has often been done in the popular press) as most `hooligan ®rms' have no political af®liations, and many include black men as `prestigious ®gures' within them. 5 Rob Shields in his introduction to Maffesoli (1996) suggests that the pre®x of `postmodern' or `pseudo' should be added to the term `tribe' as a useful way of understanding Maffesoli's conceptualization of contemporary tribal patterns.

4 The meaning of the contemporary sport venue 1 Though the rising cost of building ever larger and more spectacular sport venues has forced many developers to construct `multipurpose' venues, with the ability to host a variety of sports and other forms of entertainment (such as pop and rock concerts), it is still the capacity to host sporting competitions that is key in determining the style and layout of the vast majority of contemporary venues. 2 Though as the relocation of many sport teams (particularly in North America) shows, this tie does not necessarily need to be a permanent one. 3 Elsewhere Bale offers further descriptions of the contemporary sport venue, but these four metaphors appear most dominant in his work. 4 This clock commemorates the Manchester United players who were killed in an aeroplane crash in Munich in February 1958. 5 Hillsborough is an association football stadium in Shef®eld where in April 1989 overcrowding in one part of the ground, which housed the visiting Liverpool supporters, led to the eventual death of 96 fans (see Lord Justice Taylor 1990, and Ian Taylor 1991). 6 The use of ideological schooling employed within the contemporary sport venue will be considered in more depth in chapter six. 7 Club seats are `superior' quality seats offered at many North American sport venues, which offer more comfortable seating and access to better facilities than standard seats, while executive and luxury suites usually offer enclosed facilities, which often include access to a bar, comfortable seating and closed-circuit television (Putman 1999).

Notes

163

5 Consumption, spectacle and performance 1 Later the Marketing Director of The Manchester Storm and then General Sales Manager and Vice President of the Madison Square Garden owned Hartford Civic Center ± home of the Hartford Wolf Pack ice hockey team.

6 Social control and supporter violence 1 Though Armstrong (1998: 17) suggests that after 1993 `The Leicester School's' position moves away from locating hooligans so forcefully within working class culture.

8 Consumer goods 1 However, Armstrong (2002) does not provide any de®nition of what she means by the labels `Black' and `White', which inevitably raises concerns about the validity of this research ± as ethnicity is never as straightforward as `Black' and `White'.

9 Mass media and new media technologies 1 Published in English as The History of Sexuality ± Volume 1 (1978). 2 Other terms such as `computer gaming' or `video gaming' have frequently been used to describe forms of electronic games played on arcade machines, home computers and games consoles (see Poole 2000: 35). However, the term `digital gaming' appears to be the preferred term growing in acceptance within the literature on gaming (see DiGRA, n.d.). 3 However, as with most `®rsts' this claim is frequently challenged by many, including Cambridge University who claim a PhD student (A. S. Doulgas) developed the ®rst ever computer game (a version of noughts and crosses/tic-tac-toe) there in 1952 (see Digiplay, n.d.). 4 Where possible, I prefer to avoid drawing distinctions between digital games as `virtual' as opposed to `real' life. Digital gaming is very much a real activity and leisure pursuit undertaken by millions of people worldwide, and its label as `virtual' (i.e. not real) is largely used to devalue this (see Yates and Littleton 2001: 117). 5 However, as with all technologies, it is important to recognize the boundaries of this form of social interaction. In particular, digital gaming in both its genres and focus has frequently been accused of being both sexist and racist (Kinder 1991). Furthermore, research has suggested that though there has been an increase in the number of female gamers, digital gaming continues to remain a largely male dominated activity (Bryce and Rutter 2002). 6 For further details of methodology see Crawford (2000, 2003).

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Index

Abercrombie, N. 10, 19, 21±8, 29, 33, 37, 42, 49, 54, 54, 58±86, 87, 109±110, 114, 119, 120, 122, 137±8, 139, 152, 158, 159 Adorno, T. 22, 27, 109, 135 A League of Their Own 131 American football see football (American) An®eld 11, 68 Appadurai, A. 83, 138 Arkwright Sportswear 37, 120 Armstrong, G. 61, 79, 89, 91, 93, 94, 98±9, 100, 135 Arsenal 73, 131, 148 Arsenal Stadium (Highbury) 73 association football see football (soccer) Atari 146 audience 1, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 19, 21±7, 30±4, 38, 50, 54, 56, 58, 71, 72, 73, 74,79, 82±8, 92, 96, 97, 99, 100, 101, 105, 106, 110, 114, 116, 118±22, 128, 130±42, 149, 152; as active 23, 35±8, 110, 118, 136±7, 138, 139, 144, 149, 152; diffused 23±6, 38, 50, 87, 113, 121; mass 23±26; simple 23±26 authenticity, 11, 20, 31±2, 33, 34, 36, 38, 47, 50, 55, 56, 57, 74, 75, 99, 110, 112, 125, 128, 158 Back, L. 55, 61, 62, 124 Bagnall, G. 66 Bakhtin, M. 86, 109 Bale, J. 66, 67±70, 73, 74, 76, 80, 96±7, 99, 101, 142 Baudrillard, J. 25, 31, 123, 142 Bauman, Z. 4, 10, 40±1, 55, 58±9, 60, 62, 99, 116, 123, 126, 158

baseball 43, 46, 65, 68, 72, 74, 75, 77±8, 82, 84, 131, 151 basketball 9, 44, 54, 54, 66, 72, 74, 118, 151 BBC 7 Becker, H. 39, 45 behavioural paradigm 21, 27, 30 Benjamin, W. 22, 136, 149 body, the 114 bond schemes see private seat licences Bourdieu, P. 42, 45, 48, 55, 58, 107, 124, 128 Britannia Stadium 78 Bragg, Billy 132 Brown, A. 11, 30, 35, 36, 37, 119 Bryce, J. 146, 148, 149, 150 Bull Durham 131 career (moral) 19, 21, 38±49, 50, 51, 81, 92, 125, 134, 160 carnivalesque 86 CCTV 86, 97±9, 101 Carolina Panthers 35 celebrity 132±4, 152 de Certeau 109, 110, 116±17, 118, 119, 138±9, 152 Celtic (Glasgow) 142 class see social class Clegg, S. R. 19, 28±9, 38, 50, 152, 159 Championship Bass Fishing 146 Championship Manager 146, 147, 150, 151 Chicago Cubs 46, 69, 77 Cleveland Browns 35, 36, 87 Cleveland Browns Stadium 36, 87 Cleveland Cavaliers 115

Index 179 community 4, 11, 13, 21, 28, 32, 33, 38, 40, 41, 42, 43±4, 46, 47, 50, 51, 52, 62, 80, 99, 107, 116, 118, 119, 125, 126, 128, 143, 144±5, 150, 152±3, 158, 159, 160; changing nature of 58±61 consumer goods 4, 6, 10, 11, 12, 14, 31, 38, 43, 46, 47, 51, 60, 61, 77, 78, 80, 81, 82, 86, 87, 88, 97, 106, 111, 112±29, 138, 140, 141, 159, 160 consumer culture 3, 4, 11, 34, 50, 142, 123, 127, 129, 142; as material culture 3, 112, 113±14 Counter Strike 150 Crabbe, T. 11, 35, 36, 37, 44, 55, 61, 62, 119, 124 Crawford, G. 20, 42±3, 45, 48, 54, 57, 61, 62, 68, 81, 83, 124, 151 cricket 7, 65 Critcher, C. 37, 58, 71, 74, 97, 134 Daley Thompson's Decathlon 146 Dant, T. 115, 120, 123, Daraxbre 148 David Beckham's Soccer 147 digital games 94, 131, 132, 134, 135, 146±51, 153, direct action 29, 50, 89, 94, 96±7, 100, 159 disability 52, 57, 61, 62 discipline 14, 26, 29, 50, 68, 96, 97, 98±9, 109, 121 Disney 81, 96, 99, 101 Doctor Who 37 dominant ideology 26, 27, 29, 34, 106, 120, 139, 151, 158 Dunning, E. 92, 97 Dream Team 133 Dynamo Kiev 44 Dynamo Minsk 44 EA Sport 146, 147, 151 Easter Road 67 Elias, N. 71, 92 Elland Road 69 ethnicity 44, 45, 51, 53, 54, 55, 56, 58, 60, 61, 62, 108, 112, 118, 126, 127, 129, 141, 143, 157 everyday life 4, 8, 10, 19, 24, 25, 34, 37, 58, 87, 105±7; and consumption 110±11, 114, 119±20, 122±6, 128; and mass media use 130, 137±8, 140, 144±5, 151, 157; and sport 105±7, 111; theories of 108±10

EverQuest 150 Everton 11 fans: as consumers 4, 11, 31, 33±4, 36, 81, 112±113; de®nition of 19±21, 49, induction of 42±9, 51, 55 fanzines 37, 48, 99, 105, 106, 114, 118, 119, 128, 131, 134, 139, 145, 151 female fans see women Fever Pitch 131 FHM 135 ®lm 94, 106, 131, 135, 136, 147, 179, 153 Firm, The 135 ®shing 146 Fiske, J. 27, 30, 31, 116±17, 118, 139, 152 football (American) 9, 10, 35, 47, 83, 84, 146, 151 football (Gaelic) 44 football (soccer) 5, 9, 10, 25, 30±4, 10, 43, 44, 48, 53, 54, 55, 56, 58, 98, 74, 75, 78, 84, 89±95, 98, 99, 100, 106, 115, 116, 124, 130±1, 134, 146, 147, 149, 160 Football Factory, The 35 football hooliganism 30, 40, 49, 89±94, 98, 105; as entertainment 134±5, 148±9, 151 Footballers Wives 133 Foucault, M. 23, 26, 29, 34, 35, 98, 121, 129, 139±40 FourFourTwo 148 Gardiner, M.E. 108±10 gaze, the 26±7, 98, 109, 121, 129 gender 44, 51, 52, 55, 56, 57, 58, 60, 61, 62, 108, 112, 126, 128, 129, 140, 141, 157 Giddens, A. 9, 99 Giulianotti, R. 5, 11, 31, 48, 58, 65, 68, 74, 78, 80, 89, 91, 92, 93, 98, 99, 100, 134, 147 globalization of sport 9±10, 12, 83 Goffman, E. 39, 42, 109 golf 146 Gosling, V. 57, 61, 62 Gottdiener, M. 79, 80 Gruneau, R. 11, 52, 71, 73, 74, 75, 79, 113, 116 Guttman, A. 20, 89, 94, 96, 97, 115 Hall, S. 22, 27, 93, 118, 136, 138, 152 Harlequins 78 Hartford Civic Center 83

180

Index

hegemony 11, 22, 29, 50, 69, 97, 136 Hibernian 67 Highbury see Arsenal Stadium Hills, M. 19, 20, 31, 33, 36, 43, 110, 112, 114, 112±6, 129, 144, 145, 158 Hillsborough 68, 95, 100 hockey (®eld) 47 hockey (ice) 9, 11, 43, 44, 47, 49, 52, 54, 56, 57, 66, 98, 72, 74, 81, 83, 84, 115, 125, 151 Holt, D. B. 4, 33, 43, 46, 77±8, 158 Hooligans: Storm Over Europe 136, 148, 149 hooliganism see football hooliganism hurling 44 I.D. 135 identity 4, 6, 10, 14, 20, 38, 39, 41, 42, 44, 47, 49, 52, 53, 55, 59, 91, 106, 107, 110, 111, 112, 114, 115, 116, 118, 119, 122, 123, 124, 128, 129, 137, 138, 140, 143, 145, 159 ideological schooling 89, 96±7, 101 incorporation 30, 33, 34±38, 106, 111, 112, 115±21, 122, 128, 136, 141, 158 (also see incorporation/resistance paradigm) incorporation/resistance paradigm 21±23, 26, 27, 30, 33, 34, 106, 110, 112, 138±9, 151, 158, 159 Inglis, S. 67±8, 69, 71, 74, 78±9, 94 Internet 37, 74, 87, 106, 113, 114, 115, 118, 119, 128, 131, 135, 137, 139, 141±5, 150, 151, 152 ITV 133 ITV Digital 73 Jenkins, H. 37, 105, 116±17, 119, 133, 139, 151 Kellner, D. 8, 31, 38 King, A. 11, 31, 32, 48, 53, 59±60, 75, 79, 97, 99, 125, 126, 128, 159 Lash, S. 5, 58 Leeds United 53, 56 Lefebvre, H. 108 Loaded 135 locality 31, 45, 53, 59, 60, 61, 67, 69, 75, 80, 87, 99, 124, 144, 159 Longhurst, B. 3, 10, 19, 21±8, 33, 37, 42, 49, 54, 55, 85±6, 87, 107, 110, 114,

119, 122, 123, 137±8, 139, 152, 158, 159 Liverpool 11 Lury, C. 3, 12, 60 113, 114, 118, 124, 126, 127, 128, 158 Macintyre Uncovered 135 Maffesloi, M. 40±1, 50, 60, 61, 62, 93, 159, 160 Major League 131 Manchester Phoenix see Manchester Storm Manchester Storm 43, 46, 47, 49 Manchester United 32, 35, 59, 68, 80, 125, 147 Marsh, P. 40, 89, 92, 94, 100 Marx, K. 4, 108, 139 Mathiesen, M. 7, 26, 27, 29, 121 Maxim 135 mediascapes 83, 138 men 44, 47, 48, 54, 57, 91, 107, 125, 126, 128, 133, 135, 140±1 men's magazines 135 Midway 148 Mighty Duck, The 115 Moorhouse, H. F. 42, 49 Morrissey 132 Motocross 10 museums 75, 80, 85 music 24, 25, 36, 49, 82, 85, 131, 132, 139, 153 nationality 44, 51, 118 Neilson, B. J. 68, 72, 73, 75, 79, 82, 84, 86 neo-tribe 40±1, 60, 93, 159 Newcastle United 36, 73 new fandom 30, 58 newspapers 7, 8, 11, 20, 69, 70, 93, 106, 108, 113, 127, 130, 131, 133, 134, 137, 138, 142, 143, 147, 148, 151, 60, New York Yankees 80, 124±5 New York Islanders 115 nostalgia 14, 31, 75, 76, 87, 99 Ocean 146 Old Fashioned Football Shirt Company, The (TOFFS) 37 Old Trafford 35, 68, 80, 82 panopticon 26, 35, 98, 109, 121 performance 10, 24, 25, 34, 37, 77, 82±8, 110, 112, 114, 118, 121, 122±6, 128±9,

Index 181 137, 138, 139, 145, 153, 159, 160 (also see spectacle/performance paradigm) performative consumption 110, 112, 122±6, 129, 145 Playboy 134 Playstation 147, 148 Pong 132, 146, post-fan 11, 58 power see social power press, the see newspapers private seat licences 35±6 Radio 3, 870, 87, 107, 113, 127, 131, 137, 141, 143, 151 Rage 148 Rage Against the Machine 36 Raitz, K. B. 65, 68, 69, 75 Red Card 148 Redhead, S. 11, 30, 31, 58, 116, 131±2, 136, 145, 148, 152 Reebok Stadium 78, 80 religion 44, 53 resistance 23, 30±1, 33, 34±8, 50, 92, 100, 101, 106, 109, 110, 111, 112, 115±21, 128, 139, 141, 151, 158, 159 (also see incorporation/resistance paradigm) rugby 52, 54, 56, 58, 78, 146 Rinehart, R. 26, 37, 81, 83, 84, 86, 136 Roker Park 80 Rowe, D. 7, 130, 131, 134 Rutter, J. 146, 148, 149, 150 Sampdoria 148 St. Etienne 148 St. James Park 73 Simmel, G. 4, 124 Sega 148, 151 Shef®eld Steelers 81 Shef®eld Wednesday 68 shopping malls 72, 74, 78, 79 Skydome (Toronto) 73 soap opera 133±4, 151 soccer see football (soccer) social class 44, 51, 52, 54, 57±8, 60, 61, 62, 91±2, 99, 108, 124, 125, 127, 129, 140, 141, 145, 157 social exclusion 52, 54±8, 60±1, 126±8, 129, 140, 145 social power 23, 26±7, 27±38, 50, 96±101, 111, 112, 120±6, 128, 129, 139, 140, 141, 152, 158±9 Space Invaders 146

Spacewar 146 spectacle 8, 10, 24, 27, 46, 77, 82±8, 99, 112, 114, 121, 128±9, 159 (also see spectacle/performance paradigm) spectacle/performance paradigm 22, 24, 110, 138, 139, 140, 151, 159 sport: changing nature of 6±11, 77±88, 91±2; as entertainment 4±5, 8, 81, 82, 84, 85, 87 sport venue: changing nature of 70±5, 78±88, 94±101; as educator 68, 69, 76; as heritage site 68, 69, 76; as home 68, 69, 76; as religious site 68, 76; as site of consumption 77±82, 87±88; as site of spectacle and performance 82±88, 99, as site of social control 94±101; as tourist attraction 81 Sky television 7, 8, 9, 130, 131, 133 Sony 36 Spracklen, K. 52, 54, 56, 58 Stadium of Light 80 Star Trek 37 status passage see career (moral) subcultures 22, 32, 40, 41, 60, 93, 134 Sunderland 80 supporters see fans supporter violence 65±6, 89±94 (also see football hooliganism) surveillance 89, 97±101, 112, 121 Taylor, I. 5, 30, 45, 48, 53, 58, 68, 89, 91±2, 95, 99, 100, 116, 142, 160 Tblisi 44 television 8, 24, 68, 73, 84, 87, 113, 121, 127, 130±1, 135, 137, 138, 141, 142, 143, 149, 151, 160 tennis 47, 146 textual poachers 37, 117, 119, 139 theme parks 74, 76, 89, 96 theming 36, 79±80, 81, 84, 87 Total Video Games 147 tribus see neo-tribes Undertones, The 132 Urry, J. 5, 58, 81 Veblen, T. 4, 77, 78, 87 Wann, D. 32, 44, 57, 82, 89±91, 100, 105, 107, 136, 138, 157 Warde, A. 107, 114, 118, 138 West Ham United 117

182

Index

Whannel, G. 8, 93, 94, 130, 132, 137 When Saturday Comes 79, 124, 142 Whitson, D. 11, 52, 71, 73, 74, 75, 79, 113, 116 Williams, J. 8, 32, 47, 56, 92, 134

Wolverhampton Wanderers 160 women 33, 44, 47, 54, 56, 57, 61, 96, 126, 128, 133, 140±1, 145 wrestling 133±134 Wrigley Field 3, 69, 77, 78

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Consuming Sport: Fans, Sport and Culture

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Sport and Corporate Nationalisms (Sport Commerce and Culture)

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Sport Governance (Sport Management)

Sport and International Development (Global Culture and Sport)

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Sport

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Sport and Postcolonialism (Global Sport Cultures)

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Sport Studies (Active Learning in Sport)

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Gideon's Sport

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Sport Sociology (Active Learning in Sport)

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