PUT A LEPRECHAUN hat on my byline picture and order me a prawn sandwich, because I am prepared to admit that there is no sporting bandwagon I won’t jump on.
Cricket, tennis, boxing, girls’ soccer. I won’t pay much attention to it for 51 weeks of the year, but when I hear the rumble of a bandwagon approaching through an obscure qualifying round, I’ll be ready to pounce quicker than you can Google the name of the Irish cyclist who recently won a stage of the Tour of Spain. (Philip Deignan. Cheered him as a hero in 2009. Haven’t a clue what he’s up to this week.)
In the aftermath of Conor Niland’s defeat at Wimbledon, a joke did the rounds: “Those travelling via SW19, please be aware that a bandwagon has broken down on court 17. Expect delays and disappointment.” Well, you would have found me sitting on it, the bunting hanging limp around my neck. And I would have been saying his name proudly: “Conor did us proud.” “I’m sure Conor is feeling disappointed now, but he’ll look back proudly at his achievement.” That sort of thing. Like I knew him. Or had followed him for years, through low-ranked tennis events in eastern Europe. Or that I had even the slightest idea of what he looked like before I turned on TG4 on Tuesday afternoon.
There is a great deal of cynicism towards the bandwagon jumper. He is seen as the worst kind of supporter, the glory hunter or, worse, the tourist whose loyalties depend on who offers the best corporate facilities and guaranteed victory.
He is not the one standing in the rain, in a crowd no larger than a doubles tennis team, week in, week out, soaked in frustration, hoping for the one moment of joy that will reward his years of commitment. No. He’s there for a week, then gone forever.
And yet the bandwagon jumper appreciates the sporting maxim that it’s the hope that kills you, so finds a way to spread his bets. Often, he will be the one man beside that dog on the sideline of a local sporting pitch, but will also seek out the joy from whatever potential glory comes within reach, regardless of the sport. He will seek whatever fleeting thrills offer escape from the routine of life.
He will appreciate the story of Rory McIlroy’s US Open win, even if he skipped the opening chapters. He will plan a break from work to turn on Eurosport and cheer Derval O’Rourke as she runs a European indoor semi-final, even if he wouldn’t recognise Santry Morton Stadium if someone drove him there, dragged him into the field and started chucking javelins at him.
His patriotism will be written off as opportunistic, but there is surely something endearing in wishing compatriots well and empathising with a sportsperson’s elation and pain, even if his suddenly calling them by their childhood nickname may be utterly at odds with his previous lack of interest.
The biggest critics of the bandwagon jumpers, obviously, are those who have followed a team or sport for years, who have remained dedicated despite weathering the storms, both metaphorically and literally. They rail against the latecomers.
But do you think that the Dublin hurlers would have preferred it if, on the day of the league final, admittance to Hill 16 was strictly limited to those who could produce evidence that they were in Parnell Park on a particularly squally day in 2003? Or if they could wave a blue flag, only having first passed a multiple-choice test in which they identified the person at right half back – not today but this time last year?
Do you think the cricketers would prefer their feats be enjoyed in isolation, to arrive back at the airport and find the only person waiting for them was an impatient minibus driver who needed to get shifting because he was booked to do a teenage disco run?
True fans see a purity in their futile dedication, a penitence that is disturbed by the glory hunter, but for sports that, perhaps, have lived in the unlit corners of the In Brief section of the sports pages for years, the noise of the bandwagon is welcome. But they need to take a deep breath, block out the olés and move over on the terrace. And, at the very least, they should appreciate that the bandwagon jumper, with his peripatetic fandom and brief but intense interest, makes an excellent table-quiz team member. Everyone’s a winner.
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