So the old saying goes: America loves an underdog. That’s bull. The truth is, we may root for the underdog in many situations. Many situations, that is, when we’re not rooting for the home team, our favorite team, or the team we’ve placed a gentleman’s, emotional, or monetary bet upon. The truth is, we may root for an underdog, but we place little credence upon their chances, rarely become spectators for the respective match, and we only love the idea of their victory. When the underdog wins, we act as if we love them, but the cynical truth is: we love the “story” of an underdog much more than the underdog themselves.
As we approach final four weekend of the NCAA tournament, only one #1 seed (Duke) is left on the docket. TV ratings are down and CBS is thankful for the red carpet the selection committee laid down for the blue devils. While there are no “true” underdogs left (two #5 seeds and a #2 seed) regardless who they are rooting for, Duke will be the focus of the majority of final four viewers. So if the presence of Duke is necessary for TV ratings, then you can probably bet more people will be rooting for them to lose than for them to win (unless their bracket is on the line). Perhaps it’s not a love of underdogs, but rather a distaste of favorites (unless it is our own) that America loves.
As much as sports writers enjoy talking about “the next George Mason” or Cinderella team that goes deep into the tournament; this year all but proves March madness TV ratings are directly tied into the relative success of America’s brackets and pools. When the overall #1 seed Kansas was defeated by #9 Northern Iowa, you could almost hear the collective groans. All over the country, brackets were instantly busted, and as a result, interest in the tournament along with it.
Luckily, for true basketball fans, this tournament has been one of the best in recent memory. Nearly every game has come down to the final seconds; we’ve seen overtimes, classic battles, and nail-biting buzzer beaters. The issue is: with every upset (as interesting as they are to talk, read, and write about) viewers are lost. Northern Iowa’s victory was the clearest “underdog” story of this years tourney, but nobody really cared what happened to them next. And while few people have accurately predicted the outcome to this point, you still get the sense that just about any of the four remaining teams could win it. To me, that’s reason enough to watch (even if my girlfriend’s bracket beat the pants off mine). Unfortunately, I’d be in the minority.
Sure, America loves a good underdog story. Those David vs. Goliath moments. Overcoming great odds to come out victorious. It gives us the sense that anything is possible. It’s a good feeling. But that’s all after the fact. Beforehand it’s all just wishful thinking. Gamblers call it a suckers bet. We don’t watch the underdog take on the super power; We revel in it later. Nobody believed in David until after Goliath fell.
No, America doesn’t love an underdog. We love dynasties. We love world records. We love perfection. But even more than all those things: we love seeing them fall. Do you think more people watch the Yankees in the world series to see them win or to hope they lose? When the Giants beat the undefeated Patriots in Superbowl XLII, did sports writers talk more about the Giant’s win or the Patriot’s loss? Would the USA Gold metal in hockey in the 1980 Olympics be as memorable if they hadn’t beaten the USSR? The truth is: without the superpower, evil empire, or dynasty, there is no underdog. And it’s not the underdog that America loves, it’s a love of who they’ve defeated and more importantly: what that’s accomplished.
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