(photo from stumptownfooty.com)



Why Portland? Why, when the average team in the Women’s Bundesliga team draws only 1,000 fans per game, when most NWSL teams draw between 2,000 and 4,000 fans per game, and when the WNBA averages around 7,500 fans per game, do the Portland Thorns average over 16,000 fans per game (even when an uncooperative schedule takes away many of the star players for large chunks of the season)? This question lingers in many recent discussions of women’s professional soccer, and is of interest to any women’s sports advocate or any fan of historically marginalized sports. And while several good pieces of journalism have made efforts to find an answer, they often primarily feature perspectives from players and management. This makes some sense; the team does, after all, have a PR department with a vested interest in the question. But it also strikes me as one of those odd ways that we expect people who are good at sports to know lots about stuff that ultimately has little to do with tactics and technique. If I want to know about tactics I’d ask the coaches and players; if I want to hear about business plans I’ll ask management; but if I want to know about fans why not ask the fans? So I did.

A few months back (in May of 2016) I asked for some help from the Rose City Riveters and Portland Thorns fans with a summer research project I was undertaking with one of my University of Portland students (Anne Luijten) to consider why the Portland Thorns are – by the metric of average attendance – the most popular professional women’s sports team in the world. And help you all did. I was initially thinking if we were able to get survey responses from 50 or so fans, and interview another 10 then, combined with general observations at Thorns games and events, we’d have enough to write our academic paper (for a special issue of the academic journal Sport in Society on women’s soccer in the United States). Instead, within a few days of putting out a brief request with the help of Lexi Stern and the Rose City Riveters social media, we had well over 200 completed surveys, 20 people participating in in-depth interviews, and more rich and thoughtful perspectives on Portland Thorns fandom than I ever imagined to be possible. Befitting the inclusive and informed fan culture that I think is so central to the relative success of the Portland Thorns, you all offered diverse and sophisticated perspectives on the basic question: why Portland?

So I’m writing now both to thank everyone, and to share a bit about what we learned. Our full academic paper is currently undergoing peer review with the journal; since academic publishing mostly still works at the glacial pace of a 19th century medium, I don’t know when it might actually come out (and I don’t know what revisions we’ll have to make). But if and when it does come out I’d be happy to send it along to anyone curious for a more detailed, data-heavy, and jargon filled version. I’d also be interested if people have constructive quibbles with how we’ve interpreted the data. Just send me an email. And if you just want the really short version, here’s a summary: We found that the phenomenon of Thorns fandom is best explained as a combination of relatively equal parts good soccer in a professional environment; a stadium that allows diverse fan types to happily co-exist; a Portland fan community that historically and intentionally emphasizes community and inclusion in a way that appeals to non-traditional sports fans (ie, fans put-off by hegemonically masculine and hyper-commercialized professional sports); and opportunities for creative and values-based fandom that fits well with the generally progressive political ethos of Portland. Now, if you are curious for the somewhat longer and more nuanced version, read on…

(photo from 2016 home opener / Oregonian)



One thing an academic take on women’s soccer fandom has to offer beyond what you might get in a journalistic account, other than really talking to the fans, is a connection to other theory and research about sports fans. It turns out that the vast majority of this literature comes from a sports business and sports marketing standpoint. It’s not really about why fans care about particular teams or sports so much as how to commoditize that care. I blame this literature partially for the history of women’s professional soccer teams in the US trying to sell themselves primarily as a provider of “role models” for young girls. This approach offers the possibility of a relatively safe business niche where players can be marketed using conventional celebrity tactics emphasizing superficial traits. A major problem, of course, is that this has never really worked to create a sustainable fan base (see the previous two failed women’s soccer professional leagues in the US). In our research we did hear from Thorns fans who liked the idea of the players as “role models,” and there may indeed be some social value there. But those fans were a significant minority (about 9% emphasized particularly appreciating the players as “role models”), and we also heard from fans who have kids in the “role model” target demographic and find that an impediment to fandom – for a parent who spends much of their week carting kids around to organized sports practices, the last thing they want to do on a Friday night is go to another soccer game.

One of the other most popular theoretical takes on fandom is often called “BIRGing” – or basking in reflected glory. The idea is that people like following sports teams because when the team does well it reflects well on them personally. And while it is generally true that better performing teams tend to draw more fans, I think the explanatory value here is also limited. First, let’s be honest: in their brief history the Thorns haven’t always been all that good at actually winning games (in their first three seasons they won 27 of 66 games). In fact, when we asked our Thorns survey respondents to rank order 10 possible reasons for fandom, “vicarious achievement” came in dead last (next to last was “role models”). But I do think there is something about reflected glory for Thorns fans – primarily because of an evident self-awareness that Portland does support women’s soccer unlike any other city in the world. In our forced ranking task, “Supporting women’s opportunities in sports” was number one, and “Community pride” was number three (with “Interest in soccer” inserting itself between as number two). In a self-perpetuating loop, we like the fact that we like to support women’s soccer.

The fact that a desire to support women’s sports was, on average, the top response to our survey’s forced ranking task is also significant. In our interviews this was rarely mentioned first – most fans liked to start by just talking about how much they enjoyed Thorns soccer. But soon thereafter fans of all gender identities commonly expressed the importance of gender equity as a value. Many of the older female fans, having lived through eras where women’s professional sports were barely an imagined possibility, expressed deep emotional satisfaction at seeing a women’s professional team get the kind of support historically reserved for men. Many of the younger female fans identify with a feminist politics that makes promoting strong women an important priority. And many of the male fans also felt a vaguely political impulse towards a more egalitarian sports culture. As one fan explained in a survey response “I love that our excellent support of women’s soccer in Portland helps attract amazing international players and it’s really cool when they end up loving Portland and wanting to stay here. It also feels good – as a person, but especially as a woman – to live in a city where so many men support women’s soccer. It makes me feel like I live somewhere where women are respected in general.”

(Thorns tifo photo here)



Building on this feeling of civic pride and community, the theoretical perspective from academic work that I actually most like is called the “team identification—social psychological health model.” The idea here is that people like being sports fans because it gives them the types of community connections that we know are key ingredients for a good life. Sports teams offer easy ways to bond with others, to feel part of something beyond the self, and to sometimes make genuine personal connections to new people. This, I think, offers important leverage on understanding the phenomenon Thorns fandom. When we asked our survey respondents an open ended question about “what you personally most enjoy/appreciate about being a Thorns fan” and then coded responses into categories we could count, the “atmosphere and supporters culture” at games was the most popular response and the only one mentioned by over half of the fans we surveyed. Another 30 percent separately mentioned “community and comradery” with a surprisingly large number using exactly that latter word – I think the choice of “comradery” signifies a feeling of being part of something that has meaning beyond just the sociality of a group.

So what is that “something” that Thorns fans feel part of? For that piece I think it’s useful to have a bit of what I think of as the social history of Portland soccer supporters culture. We talked to fans who connected their fandom all the way back to the 1970’s iteration of the Timbers, and to almost every other major local soccer team and event since. Most Portland soccer fans know that many of the ‘original’ Timbers from the 70’s NASL team were Brits who stuck around and became integral to the local coaching scene. But what had never struck me before undertaking this project was how often this meant coaching girls as well as boys at a time when women’s soccer had almost no traction in the UK (women’s soccer was formally banned in England from 1921 to 1971!). For soccer to be viable in Portland, women’s soccer had to be viable in Portland.

The most visible influence of the original Timbers on women’s soccer in Portland was Clive Charles – the legendary UP coach who was one of those Brits who probably surprised themselves with how much he liked the women’s game. He laid the foundation for UP teams in the 2000’s that consistently led the NCAA in attendance for women’s soccer, and that helped make watching women’s soccer a fun and legitimate way to be a sports fan in Portland.

Around that same time in the mid-aughts, there was an eclectic and merry band of Portlanders who started building a supporters culture around another iterations of the Timbers and who started calling themselves the Timbers Army. While a reasonable amount of ink has been spilled around the Timbers Army phenomenon, and while Thorns fans and the Rose City Riveters deserve their own independent credit, I also think a full social history of the Timbers Army would make for a great academic study in organic community organizing (maybe someday!). Even the brief version I undertook for this project was fascinating. And the critical piece that I think is most relevant to the Thorns is various ways the Timbers Army decided to emphasize inclusion. The idea “if you want to be Timbers Army, then you already are” is so well-known to Portland fans that we may take it for granted – but the idea of a comprehensive and highly organized fan group that puts a primary philosophical emphasis on inclusion (which, admittedly, doesn’t always manifest perfectly) is very rare in world soccer.

To some of the fans I talked to, the seminal moment of inclusion for the Timbers Army was the “football fans against homophobia” tifo display in 2013. While being visibly against homophobia shouldn’t be a radical gesture in the 21st century, in the historically and hegemonically masculine world of most professional sports it is still rare. As one fan explained in an interview “when that rainbow flag and football fans against homophobia display went up, there were people that were like: I don’t come to soccer for politics. And I was like, this isn’t politics this is human rights, and don’t let the fucking door hit you on the way out.” Thorns fans and the Rose City Riveters seem to have taken this ethos to another level: whether in the form of rainbow flags, tifo, or simple visibility the Thorns have always celebrated a diversity of gender and sexual identities.

The most obvious thing this does for Thorns fandom is create a space where fans of all sexual identities feel free to enjoy soccer. As one fan explained “I love the fan culture, the opportunity to see world class soccer for $13, the inclusive and welcoming atmosphere in the north end. Even at Timbers games my boyfriend and I hear homophobic remarks, get called fags, etc. NOT at Thorns games.” That matters – the LGBTQA fanbase is a vibrant source of support for the Thorns (in our survey sample about 32% identified as LGBTQA, while about 68% identified as heterosexual), and a fanbase that is not well-served by many other professional sports cultures. But it also matters in a less obvious way: the ethos of including fans irrespective of sexual identity who don’t always feel comfortable at other professional sports events allows Thorns games to be a rich mix of traditional and non-traditional sports fans. There may always be a large market for hegemonically masculine and hyper-commercialized professional sports (which in the soccer world many women’s soccer fans refer to as “BroSo”), but there is also clearly a market for fans turned off by that version of the games we love.

(photo from 2016 home opener / Oregonian)



Obviously most fans aren’t going to Thorns games actively thinking about an ethos of inclusion and the wonders of counter-hegemonic sport cultures. We mostly go thinking that Thorns games are a fun place to watch great athletes play good soccer. But those pieces may dovetail more efficiently than it first seems. And here, for me, is where the stadium comes into play. Many casual observers attribute the Thorns success to sharing ownership and facilities with the Timbers. This does matter – we heard many fans appreciate how much more professional and legitimate the Thorns operation seems when compared to many of the other NWSL teams. And fans also just like going to Civic Stadium / Providence Park. It’s a chance to go out in a nice part of town and enjoy a game in a stadium (re) designed for soccer.

The more subtle importance of the stadium, however, is what I’ve come to think of as the stadium’s social geography. Providence Park is not so big to be overwhelming, but not so small as to end up cramming different types of fans into one space. Intentionally watching Thorns games from different parts of the stadium made it clear to me that each draws a slightly different crowd. The north end and the Rose City Riveters sections are for fans who want to sing, stand, and feel some agency in their fandom – or who enjoy being with those that do. The west side and the Key Bank Club are for the fans who are willing to pay a little extra for their comforts – nicer seats, easier access to food and bathrooms, an easier view of the game. The east side is a mix of serious fans who want to be able to focus on the game, and (most often in the 200 level) soccer families who come in on promotional deals and often spend much of the game socializing. The spatial lay-out goes a long way to allowing these disparate groups to peacefully co-exist. I was actually somewhat surprised by how many of the fans we talked to who don’t sit with the Riveters have mixed feelings about the more hardcore fans –we heard more than a few muted complaints about language, noise, and goal-celebration smoke. In equal and opposite measure, we heard from more than a few hardcore fans annoyed at “screaming Alex Morgan fan girls” and the expectation that women’s soccer should be sanitized and family-friendly. One of the beauties of Providence Park during a Thorns game is that those different contingents can mostly do their own thing in a way that would be much more difficult in a stadium where disparate types of fans are packed in a single grandstand (see, for example, Seattle’s Memorial Stadium).

So in the end, what strikes me most about Thorns fandom is it’s hybridity and complexity – the mix of the traditional and the progressive, the professional and the personal. One of the articulations I found most powerful was from a survey response asking what people enjoy and appreciate about being a Thorns fan: “My daughter came out a few months before the 1st season. While our relationship was good there was stress. I bought season tickets for us both as something we could do together. My most enjoyable times have been in the front row behind the goal, chanting with my daughter- beer in hand.” Perhaps I appreciate this quote so much because of my own status as a middle-aged dad, but I also think it distills much of what is great about Thorns fandom. The sentiment depends upon the existence of a viable supporters culture and professional environment: the team needs to be good enough to cheer and the setting has to make that enjoyable. It’s also rooted in traditional sports stories: a father bonding with his child through sports, the emotional release of singing for one’s team, and beer as a social lubricant. But it is also founded on dynamics that have historically been marginalized in popular spectator sports: soothing generational tensions around sexuality, gender, and diversity. This combination of good soccer in a special place, the emotional power and pride in spectator sports, and the opening for new and creative ways of being a sports fan that reinforce personal values all seems to me to make Thorns fandom an extraordinary thing indeed.

- Andrew Guest [drewguest (at) outlook.com; @sportsandideas]

(photo By Randy L. Rasmussen | From The Oregonian/OregonLive)

