Double Plays and Double Standards

In elementary school, finishing my homework early often came with a prize: TV time. Even with my bookworm tendencies, the prospect of a Disney cartoon or Food Network competition was always a bright one. Most nights, however, just as I settled into the couch cushions, the channel was switched, displaying a diamond-shaped field with men bearing pinstripes instead of a kitchen with Bobby Flay; the Yankees were playing, so nothing else mattered. 

My family’s love for baseball is one that precedes me. Upon immigrating to America, my father quickly became an avid fan because of baseball’s similarity to cricket, Pakistan’s most popular sport. His years working in the Bronx only reinforced his love for the Yankees—a passion shared by many of my uncles. Naturally, my mother was roped into this obsession and, eventually, my brother and I were too: childhood car rides were filled with John Sterling’s booming voice announcing, “It is high…it is far…it is…gone!” I was barely two when I attended my first Yankees game, and figures like Mariano Rivera and (especially) Derek Jeter were household legends—I probably knew the “Derek Jeter” chant before I could read. 

My brother embraced this enthusiasm, playing in our local Little League and becoming an expert in all things baseball. Watching games, discussing statistics, and complaining about poor managerial decisions became a point of bonding for him and my father. 

I, on the other hand, soon resented baseball—it was a world I felt excluded from. I never understood the sport, and my constant questions annoyed my male relatives. I spent my weekends under the burning sun watching my brother’s Little League games. My brother and older (male) cousin would spend afternoons playing catch or MLB The Show, and I could do nothing but watch. My uncle and father would even take them to games at Tropicana Field during our summer trips to Florida as a “boys’s outing.” We all grew up watching the Yankees, but their experiences were far more involved than mine.

Unfortunately, many girls grow up feeling isolated from a variety of sports. Historically, sports have been a male-dominated space. Title IX, the revolutionary law that mandates equal opportunities in sports, was only enacted in 1972—a mere 52 years ago. In spite of the law, stereotypes that paint athletics as a man’s world remain prevalent today. The inherent competition of sports is intertwined with stereotypical masculinity. Players are expected to operate with aggression, dominance, and emotional suppression (after all, there is no crying in baseball). These traits that oppose traditional, sexist expectations of femininity including submission, passiveness, and sentimentality. 

Girls are often exposed to such misogyny from an early age. Sayings like “you throw like a girl” or “you run like a girl” are framed as insults, suggesting weakness or inferiority. Movies about sports, from Remember the Titans (2000) to The Sandlot (1993), feature majority male casts and are considered coming-of-age movies or rites of passage for boys as they grow into major sports fans. Furthermore, girls who express interest in sports are painted as “tomboys”: How could a seven-year-old possibly enjoy soccer and princesses? 

Understandably, this male-focused mentality pushes many girls away from sports. Sports are treated as an environment exclusive to men, an idea a lack of women in sports reinforces. Without female representation, it can be hard for young girls to imagine themselves in sports. Instead, sports are “for the boys,” with many young girls choosing to avoid engaging with sports.

That’s not to say that female sports fans don’t exist—they have become increasingly common over time. Rather, their presence is minimized due to the hostility and sexism they are met with. One of the strongest and most recent examples of this comes from pop star Taylor Swift’s highly publicized relationship with Kansas City Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce. Many male fans have expressed irritation with Swift’s presence in the NFL, which is understandable: famous fans are not new to the NFL, but Swift’s constant presence during games and in marketing campaigns is unprecedented and overwhelming. It is as though she and her relationship with Kelce are being forced upon fans who simply want to enjoy the product on the field. 

However, Swift doesn’t decide how many times she appears on the Jumbotron (this is determined by broadcasters), nor does she control references from the NFL’s social media accounts. The tirades against her are poorly directed and rooted in sexism: she is not “ruining” the sport by attending games in support of a loved one. Rather, the NFL is showing Swift onscreen to garner attention from a new demographic of young girls who didn’t care much for football before their favorite pop icon became a part of the story. Ultimately, that attention is something they hope to convert into revenue.

The NFL has certainly been successful with this initiative; since Swift’s first appearance at a Chiefs game, they have seen a sharp increase in female viewership, especially among teenage girls. While some might be interested in the singer and her new romance, others have become more interested in the sport itself, sparking a point of connection for some fathers and daughters. Such growth should be encouraged, yet many Swifties are considered “invaders.” After all, Taylor Swift’s fan base and music—which often touches on subjects of love and womanhood—represent the antithesis of the traditional, all-American values of football, a historically male sport dominated by symbols of masculinity. 

 Even outside of football, the idea that a woman might simply enjoy a sport is outlandish to many; surely she is only interested in attractive players or wants to impress a man. Wearing a certain team’s jersey can spark an interrogation: “Can you even name five players? Do you know what this position does?” Time and time again, women of all ages have to prove themselves and their dedication to earn the title of a “true fan.” 

However, while many mega fans know trivia and statistics, this isn’t the only way to enjoy sports, nor is it a necessity. After all, sports are a form of community, camaraderie, and connection for people of all backgrounds. I am the first to admit that I don’t know the ins and outs of baseball. Unlike my brother, I can’t expertly identify a strike versus a ball, nor do I have batting averages memorized. That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a game, though. In fact, my interest in baseball has increased in recent years mainly because of games I have attended in person. The atmosphere of Yankee Stadium at the bottom of a tense inning is hard to resist: chanting along with a boisterous crowd and jumping from my seat with every hit strengthened my connection with the sport itself, as well as my brother and father. I have begun to understand why they care so deeply about baseball and even follow the sport on my own.  

Everyone should have the option to develop that connection, whether they care about every meticulous detail of a sport or not. It is essential to move past stereotypes that limit young girls and their capabilities. This is not to say that women should be pressured to enjoy sports (I, for one, will never understand the appeal of football or golf), and no man should be either; people are entitled to their own interests and passions. However, those passions should be given an opportunity to grow without judgment. Rather than sighing with irritation when their daughters ask them a question about the game, fathers should take this as an opportunity to bond and give them an opportunity to develop interest. 

Fortunately, women’s sports are becoming increasingly popular—even among male fans. The WNBA in particular has seen a soaring rise in popularity, with powerhouse players like Indians Fever guard and WNBA Rookie of the Year Caitlin Clark attracting a multitude of fans, including teenage girls. As the demand for women’s sports increases, so will the representation of female athletes: through Clark and other popular female athletes, girls can finally see themselves in the world of sports, opposing the notion that athletics are limited to men. Hopefully, they will realize that anyone can be a fan of sports.

At their core, sports are supposed to be universally fun. No matter one’s experience, identity, or knowledge, they should be able to recline with friends and enjoy a game of whatever sport interests them. As October rolls around, I will be tuned into YES Network as the Yankees fight their way through the postseason—even if, every now and then, I have to ask my father, brother, or older cousin a question.