Spectators and participants have held an inextricable relationship for centuries. Without fans, there could be no professional competition. Without competitors, there would be nothing to watch. They both need each other. So why can't they seem to get along?
The conflict can be traced back as far as the Romans. In 404 AD, a Christian monk by the name of Telemachus went on an odyssey from Turkey to Rome. His goal was to illuminate the anti-Christian atrocities of the gladiator games.
Upon arriving in the Coliseum, he was so disgusted and overwhelmed by the violence, he decided to jump to the stadium floor and place himself between two fighting participants. The crowd went berserk and coaxed the gladiators into killing Telemachus. That evening, the devoutly Christian Roman Emperor ended the Gladiator games forever.
Recently, melees between American spectators and competitors have received a glut of media attention. To the unobservant eye, it would seem that the situation between the crowd and the competitors is growing worse, and that action must be taken to deter it.
Since 2001, baseball has experienced more than five violent altercations between players, coaches and fans that have resulted in suspension. In November, the NBA experienced its most damaging publicity since the '98 lockout when Ron Artest hit a Detroit fan with such force, it would have made Muhammad Ali jealous. Last Thursday night, Gary Sheffield shoved an offending Red Sox fan after being swung at, and turned around with a cocked fist ready to retaliate.
So is this rash of violent altercations between fans and players a growing epidemic of unnecessary violence or a function of the importance certain sports play in our lives?
When we allow emotion to control our actions, violence often ensues. These altercations demonstrate that, as fans, we still have a passion for sports.
Bryant Gumble once said, "All the other sports are just sports, but baseball is a love." He was overstating a simple reality: for many of us, all competition is a love. As spectators, we often wish we could participate; the energy and passion of competition drive us to act on emotion before logic can intervene.
Does this make the fighting okay? No. Should we as spectators have a problem with it? Maybe. The best we can hope for is that fans and players will think before impulse manifests in violence. Is the problem getting worse? No.
If we were facing an escalating problem between competitors and spectators, Gary Sheffield -- one of the loosest cannons in baseball -- would have given that Boston fan a severe concussion and a bloody nose. The fact that he exercised such restraint shows that we're making progress and consequences are being weighed beforehand.
Maybe he was thinking of Ron Artest, or the assault charges on which Massachusetts would have indicted him. Whatever he was thinking, the consequences must have entered the picture.
Fans and players must be held accountable for their indiscretions in stadiums. But we as observers must also understand that these disputes are an inevitable result of the love of competition.
In 2001, notorious NHL thug Ty Domi was assaulted by a fan in Philadelphia who dove over the glass into the penalty box from the second row of the stands. Instead of pummeling the fan, Domi subdued him and laughed, saying, "Hey, that's old-time hockey. It was perfect."
The relationship problems between fans and players stem from the passionate love they both feel for competitive sports. As the world around us strives to become more civil so, too, does the world of sports.
Telemachus entered the ring out of love for civility and peace. The Boston fan swung at Sheffield out of a risky mix of passion and beer. He got lucky; a few months ago, Sheffield would have knocked him out. Call that progress.
