The Superstition Playbook

There was this one night in 2019 — Barcelona vs Liverpool, the second leg of that Champions League semi-final. I’d watched the first leg at home, on my bed, wearing an old Barça tee and holding a stuffed penguin. We’d won 3–0. Life was good. So obviously, I recreated everything for the second leg — same shirt, same seat, same penguin. And then… we lost. 4–0. Messi cried. I cried. My penguin was launched across the room.

Since then, I’ve had a rule: Never repeat a ritual. If it worked once, it’s cursed the second time. Logic or delusion. Who knows?

Haven’t you done something equally unhinged on important events? Skipped wearing black on an exam day? Knocked on wood like your life depended on it? Refused to cut your nails at night because your paati once told you it’s bad luck?

Now throw sports into the mix. Add 11 players, sky-high expectations, and your blood pressure. And suddenly, these tiny rituals turn into full-blown religions. Especially in Chennai, where match-day emotions are not just felt, they’re performed.

So I did what any self-respecting, emotionally unstable sports girlie would do — I went looking for match-day superstitions.

Ground zero: MCC Stadium

I started at MCC Stadium, where I ran into a group of boys in CSK jerseys. They were sipping Pepsi like everything was normal… until one casually said, “My whole family has assigned seats for CSK matches. If we move, someone gets out.”

Valid.

“Last time my cousin sat cross-legged — boom, Jadeja bowled out,” said someone from the group, with a certain seriousness.

Then came another voice, who has a very clear laundry policy: “I’ve worn the same jersey for every CSK match this season,” he said. “Haven’t washed it once. It smells like pav bhaji, but CSK is winning. So it stays.”

Do I gag? Yes. Do most people relate? Unfortunately, also yes.

Family’s planning

Maanvi Gopal, from Valasaravakkam, was completely straight-faced when she said, “One time, my dad turned off the kitchen light mid-over and we lost three wickets. So now we keep it on from toss to trophy.” What’s your EB bill looking like, I wonder.

Abigail R, a college student from Egmore, has a strict no-movement policy in her house when CSK is chasing. “My chiththi walked out mid-over once and Dhoni got out,” she said. “Now she’s banned during games.” Just cutting off aunties like it’s nothing.

Football fans = Peak delulu

IPL may be a religion, but football fans in Chennai? We’re built different. Dramatic. Paranoid. Deeply committed.

“I make my dog wear a Real Madrid jersey before every game,” said Smriti Somasundaram, from Anna Nagar. “We beat PSG when I put it on for him. So now it’s part of our routine.” Was the dog okay with it. She hesitated. “He doesn’t love it. But we need the win.”

Then there was Samira Rao, a Liverpool fan, who carries match-related trauma in her bones. “My ex made me leave the room during a game. Liverpool scored twice. After that, he blamed every loss on me.” She deserves an apology and season tickets.

Manikandan R, an Arsenal fan from West Mambalam, takes things to a whole other level. “I once got a haircut before a match, and we won. So now before every big game, I cut my hair.”

And finally, Arvind, a diehard Man City fan, has committed to a match-day menu. “I skipped dosa once before a match and we lost to Spurs,” he said. “Now I eat it before every game, even if I’m full. My body hates me, but Haaland doesn’t.”

Why are we like this?

Superstitions give us the illusion of control in situations that are completely out of our hands. It’s not just a quirk — it’s a coping mechanism.

“Sports fans often feel deeply connected to their teams, but they have no real control over the outcome of a match,” says Mira*, a Chennai-based sports psychologist who has worked with both athletes and high-intensity fan communities. “That’s where superstitions come in — they act as a psychological buffer. By creating rituals, fans feel like they’re contributing something tangible. For instance, if someone notices CSK wins every time they wear a particular yellow kurta, repeating that act becomes a comfort mechanism. It’s not about logic — it’s about managing the anxiety that comes from caring so deeply about something you can’t control. These rituals can lower stress, foster a sense of personal impact, and even build community around shared beliefs. In moments of sporting chaos, they become anchors.”

Research supports this perspective. A study published in Scientific Reports found that performing rituals before a task can reduce anxiety and improve performance. This works for sports fans, too. Because honestly, being a fan is stressful. We scream, cry, refresh the score, and act like we’re part of the coaching staff. So, yelling “Thala for a reason”, refusing to change your position mid-over, force-feeding your dog a jersey — it’s all emotional support. Dressed up as tradition.

Do these actually work?

“Maybe it’s not real,” Smriti shrugged. “But it helps me believe. And that’s enough.”

Manikandan agreed. “At least I know I did my part. If we lose, it’s on them — not me.”

Personally, I still haven’t forgiven my penguin. But I’ve also never worn that Barça tee again.

Because whether it’s rituals, jerseys, or complete emotional delusion — being a fan means showing up, again and again, heart first, logic second. You scream, you cry, you believe. Not because you can control the outcome, but because hope is part of the game.

So the next time you see someone pacing the terrace, clutching a dosa, or turning into Gollum over a light switch, don’t question it.

They’re not superstitious. They’re sports fans. And the universe? Better be listening.

*Name changed