Pursuits: Why do people go to sporting events when they could just watch the game on TV?

By the time you read this, the finals of the football World Cup may well be over.

Some of my friends — and many more of my acquaintances — who have made the long and tiring trek to Brazil will either have returned home or will be on their way back.

 

They will have spent thousands of dollars knowing that, no matter how good their seats are, you and I will have had a better view of the match. Sitting in our living rooms, food and beverages cracked upon in front of us, our feet resting either on the table or on a conveniently placed footstool, we will have seen the match live on TV, watching each kick only a millisecond later than those watching the game in the stadium.

 

   What’s more, we will understand what is going on in a way that my friends sitting in the audience will not. When a player falls, we will know who he is and an instant replay will tell us if he was forced or simply slipped. When a goal is scored, we will watch it in close-up from every conceivable angle. Afterwards, when my friends are fighting the crowds to get out of the stadium, we will be watching the highlights and reliving the game’s most dramatic moments.

 

   It is not as though my friends do not realise this. They know that though we will spend virtually nothing, we will see the game in the kind of detail they can never hope to enjoy it. And yet they will still have spent all that money on an expensive and complicated flight to Brazil, over-priced hotel rooms and hugely marked-up tickets to the final.

 

   So why do they still go? Why do they cheerfully spend so much when they could just as happily have stayed at home and watched the game on live TV?

 

   Good question.

 

   I’m not sure what the answer is. Over the last year, I’ve attended two prized sporting events. The first was the so-called historic men’s final at Wimbledon when Andy Murray became the first Brit in decades to win the title. And the second was what might well turn out to be the last Formula One Grand Prix ever to be held in India.

 

   Both were, literally, big-ticket events. Scalpers were changing astronomical prices for tickets to the Wimbledon final. And the Grand Prix — especially the Paddock Pass — was the hottest ticket in Delhi.

 

   Of the two, I could see the point of Wimbledon, Centre Court is large by Wimbledon standards but it is still tiny compared to say, a football stadium. So even if you did not have the best seats (and no, I was not invited to the Royal Box!), you still had a good view of the game. You could see the expressions on the faces of the players, you could hear each muttered expression of disappointment and when Murray was on match point, you could sense that all the spectators had stopped breathing.

 

"It is the sense of being part of the crowd, of soaking in the atmosphere and of feeling that you were there when sporting history was being made."

   Formula One, on the other hand, was completely different. The excitement seemed to consist of the bit before the actual race when we all walked around the paddock, saw the cars up close and, if we were lucky, got to shake hands with the drivers. Once that part was over, everyone retired to the hospitality suites, drank bubbly and ate lobster. When the race started, we stepped out to the balcony to see the cars go off, taking care to wear earplugs (it is painfully noisy). After that, the cars only whizzed past our areas once every circuit and they were going so fast and nobody could really tell what the hell was going on. Those who cared enough stayed inside the hospitality suite and watched the race on TV.

 

   Years ago I went to a cricket World Cup final and though the one-day version of the game is far more exciting than Test cricket, I thought it was a real drag. I would have enjoyed the match more if I had stayed home and watched it on TV.

 

   The truth is that with some exceptions — a Wimbledon final or a prize fight perhaps — everyone who sees a sporting event live gets a far inferior view than the TV viewer at home. And yet, tickets to sporting events remain highly prized commodities.

 

   I have three theories about why people still go. The first is pure snobbery. There are people who like to go to parties, premieres, award functions etc only because they like being part of the glamour that surrounds such events. I suspect big-ticket sporting events attract the same sort of people.

 

  The second theory is that there are genuine fans: people who care so passionately about the sport in question that TV can never take the place of the real thing in their hearts. (I have to say I saw very few Formula One fans at the Delhi Grand Prix — most people did not have a clue what was going on.)

 

   And the third theory is atmosphere. Why do people pay hundreds of dollars to see old wrinkles like the Rolling Stones play in a football stadium? You can’t even see the band so they put up large screens to help you figure out what is going on stage. You might as well wait and buy the DVD.

 

   But people go for the atmosphere that surrounds a Stones concert. They like the sense of celebration, they enjoy being part of the crowd and the evening forms a special memory that a live album or a DVD can never match.

 

  I guess something like that holds true for people who go to sporting events as well. It doesn’t matter how well you see the game. It doesn’t even matter if you can’t figure out which player has the ball. It is the sense of being part of the crowd, of soaking in the atmosphere and of feeling that you were there when sporting history was being made.

 

   Otherwise, I can’t see any reason for going, which is why you will see me so rarely at a big-time sporting event. I’ll be at home, remote control in my hand.