Scott Peek Photography
I remember that fateful day in May 2023. Liverpool F.C slotted seven goals past Manchester United. As Roberto Firmino danced his way to the stands, the United coach and players looked helplessly for an answer to their unexpected downfall. That was the day I realized my team was a bad team.
I have surrounded myself with sports my whole life. Whether it was watching the national Mexican team lose against the Netherlands in the 2014 World Cup, or seeing the Arizona Cardinals miss out on the playoffs, I have always seen my teams fail time and time again.
For most people, these losses would be a sign to maybe cheer for a different team or to simply stop watching until their teams win. There have been times where I questioned my passion for these teams. There have been times when I see other fans celebrating either a Champions League trophy or a Super Bowl and I wish that was me celebrating.
My love for the Arizona Cardinals was brought to life when my grandpa and my dad took me and my brother to our first ever NFL game. When I saw the team running into the field with such energy and prowess, there was just something about those black and red uniforms that almost spoke to me. I didn’t know that the Cardinals were one of the few teams that had never won a championship, I only knew that that team was the one I wanted to watch.
For Manchester United, it was different. As any young kid living in México during the 2010s, you were either a Real Madrid or Barcelona fan. I opted for Real Madrid, but as that club won time after time, I began to lose the love for supporting a team. I kept asking myself: “What is the point of cheering for a team if all you do is win?” The player that brought me out of this dull cycle was none other than Marcus Rashford: Manchester United’s elegant and energetic winger. I remember watching him play with so much risk and flair, but he always managed to remain composed and poised.
When I began supporting Manchester United, I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew they weren’t the triumphant and powerful team they once were, but there was something about the passion of the fans and the players that appealed to me. Year after year Manchester United began to fall farther and further away from glory. Gone were the days where trophies would shine in their stadium, and for many years I did not get to celebrate for any of the teams.
I remember May 25, 2024 when Wembley Stadium had a rift in its color as Manchester United faced Manchester City in the FA Cup Final. I remember being scared, praying and hoping for a miracle. Manchester United had played one of its worst seasons historically, and the FA Cup was the miracle that both the team and fanbase needed. I screamed as the full-time whistle echoed throughout the stadium; Manchester United had just won 2-1.
When I think about supporting a bad sports team I think about enjoying the small moments. Loving teams that constantly lose and that bring constant disappointment have shown me that life is about enjoying the small victories too. Most times life moves so quickly that we only stop to enjoy huge triumphs, rarely do we stop and think about those small moments of joy that at the time seemed meaningless.