#1 ·
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the weird, grey area that exists in modern sports fandom. We’re constantly told when to care and when we aren't "supposed" to be paying attention, but the line between a meaningless scrimmage and a vital part of the season feels like it’s shifting more and more every year.
It feels like there’s this unspoken rule in college sports: if it’s an exhibition, if it’s a neutral site, or if it’s a preseason "tune-up," then the hardcore fans are essentially told to stay home and keep their expectations low. But honestly, that feels like a cop-out. For those of us who follow a program year-round—who track the recruiting classes, watch the summer workouts, and follow the transfer portal madness—there is no such thing as a "non-event." If the team is on the court, I want to see it. It doesn't matter if the stats don't count toward the official record or if the atmosphere is more "vacation" than "war zone."
I remember back in college, we’d travel for these weird mid-season exhibition games or international tours. Even if the scoreboard didn't matter for the standings, seeing how the new freshmen integrated with the seniors was everything. It was the first time you actually saw the chemistry form. Being denied that window into the team's progress feels like being told you can enjoy the movie, but you aren't allowed to see the opening credits or the character introductions. You're just expected to show up for the climax and pretend you weren't curious about how we got there.
The real frustration for me isn't just about the games themselves; it's about the communication and the accessibility. We live in an era where we expect everything to be at our fingertips. We can stream a game from a remote village in the mountains if we have a decent data plan. When a team travels somewhere exotic or plays a special matchup, the expectation is that the connection between the program and its supporters remains intact. When that link is severed—whether through scheduling hiccups, logistical nightmares, or just poor planning—it feels like a slap in the face to the people who actually fund the program through ticket sales and merchandise.
It feels like there’s a growing disconnect between the administration side of athletics and the actual fan base. The "suits" often view these trips as business trips or brand-building exercises. They see the travel, the logistics, and the "exposure" for the university. But the fans don't see the brand; we see the players. We see the kid who’s been working his tail off all summer and we want to see if he’s actually ready to compete. When the access is cut off, it feels like the administration is prioritizing the "business" of the trip over the community that makes the program worth having in the first place.
Is it even the responsibility of the athletic department to ensure every single minute of play is broadcast? I know some people argue that exhibition games are "off the books" for a reason, and that expecting full media coverage for a scrimmage is asking too much. But if you’re going to take the team across the world to play, aren't you inherently creating an opportunity for engagement? If you remove the ability for the fans to participate, even remotely, you're essentially turning a sporting event into a private rehearsal. And if it's just a rehearsal, why bother telling the fans about it at all?
I'm curious to hear what you guys think about this "preseason" divide. Do you view these early-season matchups as vital opportunities to gauge the team's direction, or do you agree with the sentiment that we should just sit tight and wait for the "real" season to begin? And more importantly, at what point does a lack of access become a legitimate reason to feel alienated from a program?
It feels like there’s this unspoken rule in college sports: if it’s an exhibition, if it’s a neutral site, or if it’s a preseason "tune-up," then the hardcore fans are essentially told to stay home and keep their expectations low. But honestly, that feels like a cop-out. For those of us who follow a program year-round—who track the recruiting classes, watch the summer workouts, and follow the transfer portal madness—there is no such thing as a "non-event." If the team is on the court, I want to see it. It doesn't matter if the stats don't count toward the official record or if the atmosphere is more "vacation" than "war zone."
I remember back in college, we’d travel for these weird mid-season exhibition games or international tours. Even if the scoreboard didn't matter for the standings, seeing how the new freshmen integrated with the seniors was everything. It was the first time you actually saw the chemistry form. Being denied that window into the team's progress feels like being told you can enjoy the movie, but you aren't allowed to see the opening credits or the character introductions. You're just expected to show up for the climax and pretend you weren't curious about how we got there.
The real frustration for me isn't just about the games themselves; it's about the communication and the accessibility. We live in an era where we expect everything to be at our fingertips. We can stream a game from a remote village in the mountains if we have a decent data plan. When a team travels somewhere exotic or plays a special matchup, the expectation is that the connection between the program and its supporters remains intact. When that link is severed—whether through scheduling hiccups, logistical nightmares, or just poor planning—it feels like a slap in the face to the people who actually fund the program through ticket sales and merchandise.
It feels like there’s a growing disconnect between the administration side of athletics and the actual fan base. The "suits" often view these trips as business trips or brand-building exercises. They see the travel, the logistics, and the "exposure" for the university. But the fans don't see the brand; we see the players. We see the kid who’s been working his tail off all summer and we want to see if he’s actually ready to compete. When the access is cut off, it feels like the administration is prioritizing the "business" of the trip over the community that makes the program worth having in the first place.
Is it even the responsibility of the athletic department to ensure every single minute of play is broadcast? I know some people argue that exhibition games are "off the books" for a reason, and that expecting full media coverage for a scrimmage is asking too much. But if you’re going to take the team across the world to play, aren't you inherently creating an opportunity for engagement? If you remove the ability for the fans to participate, even remotely, you're essentially turning a sporting event into a private rehearsal. And if it's just a rehearsal, why bother telling the fans about it at all?
I'm curious to hear what you guys think about this "preseason" divide. Do you view these early-season matchups as vital opportunities to gauge the team's direction, or do you agree with the sentiment that we should just sit tight and wait for the "real" season to begin? And more importantly, at what point does a lack of access become a legitimate reason to feel alienated from a program?