Am I a fake World Cup fan? Here's why jumping on the bandwagon is healthy for society

Voices

After supporting Norway at the World Cup, former radio deejay Jillian Lim says becoming an overnight fan helps with social bonding and should not be frowned on.

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17 Jul 2026 09:30PM

In May, Arsenal finally won the English Premier League after 22 years.

Or so my husband, a die-hard fan of the Gunners, told me.

Last month, the New York Knicks were crowned National Basketball Association (NBA) champions after a 53-year drought. As the viral chant coined by a New Yorker superfan went: "My mayor Muslim. My bagel Jewish. My Christian Dior. Knicks in four."

In fact, the Knicks went on to clinch their historic win in game five, rather than four, and since then, I've been a self-declared Knicks fan.

I have also learnt that Arsenal midfielder Declan Rice is a Capricorn like me, while their right-winger Bukayo Saka is "The MAN". They're both currently playing for England in the World Cup, together with captain Harry Kane, who looks 45 but is actually 32.

And up until last Sunday's close call, I was certain Norway would take the cup this year. Why? Striker Erling Haaland has funny Snapchat posts.

A slew of interesting posts have been making the rounds on social media since, of "veteran" football fans – usually male – making fun of Haaland and Norway supporters like me for being disappointed about Norway's ousting. Many call us LARPers instead of fans, short for "live-action role-players".

The implication is clear: "You're just jumping onto a fad. You're not a 'real' fan."

There's a curious perception among many that you're only "allowed" to support a sports team if you've suffered alongside them through years of near misses and disappointments. The more hardship you've borne for your chosen athlete or team, the more loyal a fan you are. Bonus points if you came from fandom – that is, if your parents or grandparents were fans long before you ever came along.

In calling myself a Knicks fan or Norway supporter, some may label me a poseur – someone who, according to Cambridge Dictionary, pretends to be something they're not.

What I'm doing is "bandwagoning", a term coined by American political scientist Quincy Wright in his work A Study of War published back in 1942. It's where people adopt behaviours, trends and even beliefs because "everyone else is".

But why should that have to mean it's "fake"?

CREATING CONVERSATION AND COMMUNITY

Back when I was a Liverpool fan some 20 years ago, I remember a random uncle asking me: "Do you actually know the history of the team?"

He went on to tell me that Liverpool's football team was formed when Everton stopped playing at Anfield. After that, I was able to say things like: "Everton is playing Liverpool at Anfield? That'll be a match worth watching."

To this day, it's the only fact I know about either Liverpool and Everton. It makes me sound credible to the longtime fans, and it's nice to surprise some of them with this.

But really, it would be nicer if I didn't have to surprise or impress anyone at all just to enjoy the same game.

Frankly, I think more of us should embrace shameless bandwagoning.

Because contrary to what some gatekeepers of football history and sports tradition may believe, newly minted fans aren't jumping on board just for clout. They're doing society a favour.

Let’s be honest: Singaporeans are not known for being spontaneous conversation starters unless we're talking about food, the heat, the rain or the haze.

But every four years, the World Cup rolls around and suddenly everyone has an opinion to share.

I'm having viewing parties with friends I'd otherwise see only at Christmas. I'm running into neighbours and other acquaintances at public screenings, where we're helping each other get good seats.

From Jun 11 to Jul 19, we've become a community. That's social infrastructure.

During the last World Cup in 2022, a survey by market researcher Ipsos showed that among Singaporeans who intended to watch the World Cup, 82 per cent would do so with family and friends, and 55 per cent with their co-workers.

A hefty 61 per cent planned to do so at bars and eateries. This was significant considering we were just coming out of the COVID-19 pandemic, through which the food-and-beverage industry had struggled badly.

It's a reasonable assumption that the crowds that the tournament drew back to bars and eateries would have included non-football fans who just craved interaction and vibes.

BONDING WITH BOSSES AND BETS

To quote England midfielder Jude Bellingham after their win against Mexico on Jul 6: "Have another shot, text your bosses and tell them you're not coming in tomorrow." Even bosses seem to develop significantly more understanding and compassion overnight whenever an employee turns up in the office a little blurry-eyed after a big match.

Last week, a friend of mine arrived late to work after the England vs Mexico game was delayed an hour by a storm. Instead of a lecture, his boss nodded and said: "Solid half-time game ah?"

Even our community centres are in on the action: Match screenings in the heartlands! Come one and all! Bring your parents, bring your kids! Free drinks and snacks! What a way to make it an accessible experience for everyone who might not want to pay S$14 (US$10.85) for a beer at 8am.

There's also nothing quite like the thrill of a match to get things percolating socially. You start trading favours, making promises and upping the stakes among your family and friends.

Husbands beg to stay out and catch the 4am matches in exchange for doing morning duties once the World Cup is over. Friends and coworkers make sneaky side bets over who pays for the next round of drinks.

Complete strangers get into spur-of-the-moment wagers at the bar or community centre, friendships forming over clinked beer mugs and shared bags of chips.

ALL FANS ARE FANS

Remember Sports Day at school? By now, most of us probably can't recall which of the track stars among our peers won which races. Yet, we probably still remember dressing up in our house colours, painting each other's faces, getting sunburnt with our friends and screaming out coordinated cheers and chants.

The beauty of sports isn't that everyone starts from the same place. It's that everyone ends up shouting at the same screen, or pitch or court.

Even though you still don't know how to spot an offside, it's still fun to yell along with everyone else. When Norway scores in the 89th minute, nobody asks when you started supporting them. By then, everyone is hugging everyone anyway – even me, and I'm not a hugger.

So yes, I became a Knicks fan in game four of this year's NBA Championships. Yes, I'm now devastated that Norway's been knocked out of the World Cup. (Prior to their Jul 12 upset, I was already internally revving up to tell people I've "always rated them" should they have won the whole thing.)

The beauty of sports isn't that everyone starts from the same place. It's that everyone ends up shouting at the same screen, or pitch, or court.

The Singapore Grand Prix is coming up next.

Admittedly, I know nothing about this year's event as of now. Who's the favourite to win? Who's the underdog who just might pull a record-breaking upset? Beats me.

But bet your last dollar that come October, I'll be bandwagoning on one or the other of them to win.

I know that to some, this can come off as me being "fake". Like I haven't earned the "right" to be here, cheering or booing along with the crowd.

But here's the thing: sport is supposed to be fun. It's for everyone, not just the die-hard fans who've been here for decades or who know every bit of trivia about every single team or player.

If you're like me, I'd advise you to let go of your inhibitions this weekend and stop worrying about whether you "belong" here or not.

Sometimes, the fastest way to belong is simply to pick a side and start cheering.

Jillian Lim is a mother to two girls and one Singapore Special. She has nearly two decades of experience in broadcasting, and is now pursuing a degree in business marketing.

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Source: CNA/ml