With sports being such a big deal in this country, you’d think more fans would be better at it … at being a fan, that is. A lot of so-called fans don’t seem to know how the whole thing works. Duke Synder said, “You have to learn to hate Halloween.” What he meant was that as a Dodger, as a Dodgers fan, you gotta hate the Giants (it’s your sworn f’n duty), which means you must hate their colors, and by extension, Halloween, in all of its orange-and-black scariness.

Mr. Snider gets it. Excellent role modeling Duke. He gets that being a fan (or a player) of one team means that all the other teams are the enemy. You hate ’em, every day, under all circumstances. When you sign up as a team’s fan, it’s there in the paperwork: “These are the teams you hate, these are the colors you never wear, here’s the stupid signal they do with their hands that you NEVER do.” If you don’t follow this unwritten handbook then you’re not a fan, you’re just an observer. It’s okay to be an observer. It’s okay to just watch because, well, this whole fan thing might just be too serious for you. You can simply be the sad guy or gal that hangs out with the fans. You can say things like, “Hey guys, who’s playing?” Or, “I want the purple team to win!” Or, “If we can’t win I’d like to see one of the other local teams win.”

In other words, if being a fan is too much of a commitment you can be the person who lurks at the perimeter and says stupid shit. So let me get this straight, if my team loses then I should root for the team nearby or from my division or my conference to win? That’s nonsense. The next thing you’ll be telling me is that if my girlfriend dumps me I should hope she’ll date my best friend. No! Having a team means you have natural enemies. They go together, can’t be separated.

Maybe an example will help. Let’s say you graduated from Auburn University. You’re a real fan. That means you named your kid “Bo,” you have a War Eagle (a live one), you have cars in both team colors, bedsheets, cooking utensils, underwear, hair products, beach towels, garden tools, pet supplies, stationery, condoms—all in some form of Auburn’s colors, or adorned with their mascot or logo. Got it? Okay, so when you’re a fan, that’s only half of the equation. Yep, loving Auburn is one part for sure, but the flip side, the thing only the bold will say out loud, the elephant in the room if you will (see the Alabama thing I did there?), is that this Auburn fan-card can only be punched with a corresponding venomous disdain for anything that can be viewed as a threat to Auburn’s glory or winning percentage, and/or its women and children. One good guy, lots of bad guys, that’s the way it has to be.

In our example, if Auburn wears the white hat, the most obvious black hat is worn by Alabama. No-brainer, hate ’em. When you win and they lose, it’s twice as good, if you lose and they lose, their defeat makes the bummer of losing bearable. So ’Bama’s atop the list, but it’s a long list. Next in line for Auburn hate: anyone else in their conference (the SEC), any other team in the state of Alabama, then any team in the South. You can complete your quest to be a total hater by loathing a team that has one of your former coaches (traitor), a team with a kid that de-committed from Auburn (another traitor), a team that has colors similar to Alabama or is coached by an Alabama alum. That’s a bunch of hate. Yep, but it has to be done.

I should say here though that the hate really must stop short of wishing physical injury on a rival player. However, hoping that same kid misses the flight to the game, gets arrested, flunks out of school or chokes in a critical moment—all these evil thoughts are well within reason. The simple reason for all of this angst is that the success of a rival can and often does lead to your team’s demise. One lucky win, one good recruiting class, one lucky championship by your opponent gives them momentum that, tomorrow, you will have to overcome. And one such occurrence can lead to more, and always remember, every one of your competitor’s successes comes at your expense. So you have to step on their throats when given the chance, give them a hearty handshake and wish them bad luck.

Amos Alonzo Stagg played for Yale and in 1888 they went 13-0 and outscored their opponents 698-0. That’s the kind of ass-kicking you’re looking for. Yep, Duke Snider was right, Halloween’s a bitch when the other team is clad in orange and black, so give coal to the enemy trick-or-treaters, don the costume of the evil hater and parade the black cats along the path of your rivals. And if the sports “observer” accuses you of taking this all a little too seriously, tell him to talk to ol’ Bill Shankly who, when asked why he treated Liverpool football (soccer) as if it were life and death, replied: “…life or death….I can assure you it is much, much more important than that.”

I write these words as a public service. You’re welcome.