I am a sports fan. Born and raised in Massachusetts, I’m Pats/Sox/Celts all the way. Even moving to New York seven years ago didn’t sway my allegiance. Football is my favorite sport, and I would call myself a die hard Patriots fan. My dad taught me young what it means to be a true fan, and I have supported my teams through many seasons, good and bad. I loved the Sox and the Pats long before their recent streaks of championship seasons. I yell at the TV, I actually watched the NFL draft, I have quite the collection of team gear. I am a sports fan.

I am also a woman, and I am well aware of the generalizations that tie the two together. It was these stereotypes and generalizations that motivated me to write an editorial for my senior seminar last year. The class was called Sports, Media, and Society (yeah, pretty much the coolest class ever), and this particular assignment gave us the opportunity to examine a particular issue in sports that we felt needed to be discussed. I went through the team stores of every NFL and MLB team and examined the content of the womens’ sections of these sites. I found that the majority of womens team apparel was either pink, sparkly or sexy, and most items had some sort of cutesy or suggestive name. Among the items I found were tube tops and thongs, emblazoned with the team logo of course. Alyssa Milano even has a line of womens sports apparel called “touch.”

So what? You’re probably wondering, what’s the big deal? Here’s what I think: marketing these kinds of products to women fans implies that in order for them to wear any sort of sports gear, it must be feminine, or pretty or sexy. I own quite the assortment of team apparel, from jerseys, to t-shirts, to pants, to hats. With the exception of one or two things, every item is from the mens or boys department, and there is not a sparkle in sight. I wouldn’t want something pink because pink is not one of my teams’ colors. When I’m watching a game, the last thing I’m thinking about is how I look. When my dad and I went to see the Patriots play the Jets one cold December night a few years ago, we bought Winter hats so we could still support our team without freezing. There I was, surrounded by thousands of drunk Jets fans, with layers of Patriots sweats under my big puffy jacket, rockin’ a winter hat that matched my dad’s, and all I cared about was the game.

I realize that there are some sports fan stereotypes that will never go away. I’m used to defending my fandom with stories of devotion (like how I watched the Pats lose to Green Bay in Super Bowl XXXI with all the dads at a family friend’s house, while the moms and other girls went to a show in Boston). But, please take the sparkles away. Now, a disclaimer: there are plenty of items of clothing that are not blantantly feminine or cutesy. In fact, since I wrote the paper, the ratio of pink to non-pink has improved quite a bit, and I am in no way attacking the sports industry or saying “woe is me, I’m a female fan.” Actually, the reason I’m drawing your attention to this is issue is quite the opposite. Here’s the bottom line: I am a sports fan. Period. That phrase shouldn’t need a gender qualifier, it should mean enough as it is.

Fan or not, what do you think of these marketing techniques and trends? How do you feel about the pink and sparkly? Are you a male sports fan? If so, would you rather have a girl who looks sexy in your team’s gear, but couldn’t care less about the game, or a girl who will cheer right along with you in her oversized sweatshirt?