In Roman gladiator times, a popular spectator event involved pitting mere mortals against lions—more bloody and less artful than any contemporary bullfight could ever be. After the confrontation and resolution, fans returned home quietly, soothed by having witnessed a cathartic battle and satisfied by the resounding overtones of crime made public and appropriate punishment.

Some time in the past few decades, sports and its figures began to occupy significant market niches in the West. Charisma became more important than raw talent, controversy outshone pure winningness, and weekend warriors became more and more willing to shell out big bucks to wear the number of their idol on their backs.

Fans changed in other ways as well. Along with according superstar status to mere jocks—the forgotten bullies of yesteryear, now elevated to virtual god status—fans began to give absolute credence to any utterance delivered by said brute. This adulation came regardless of the individual’s personal code of behavior, criminal record, or social reputation. More crucially, it came regardless of the preexisting ethical creed of the worshipper.

From these new oracles emerged recommendations for political action, educational possibilities, and expenditure of disposable income. Fans stopped thinking for themselves, turned into reactive automatons when approaching a playing field or court.

As both parties developed symbiotically, the reality of competitive athletics also evolved. First, in keeping with the ever-enlarging impact of sports giants upon their games, fans began to superimpose all sorts of meanings upon athletic competition, for example, as typifying the culmination of all life’s struggles (think: unambitious Little Leaguer pressed unhealthily by overeager parent who warmed the bench during his own childhood). Instead of returning home peacefully after a match, fans had new revved-up energies to be dissipated, regardless of the outcome of the competition.

As fans started to identify with the competitors, they felt it acceptable to emulate both the harmless (though unsportsmanlike) victory dances and dangerous (and inciting) trash talking of dominant players and to believe of themselves, like the protagonist in the film "On the Waterfront," "I coulda been a contender." Now, spectators had permission from their heroes to dissipate their revved-up energies postgame in a most vigorous and forceful manner.

To expand their consciousness to superstar proportions, watchers introduced alcohol into the athletic participation. How else could mere mortals imagine accomplishing booming home runs, "Hail Mary" touchdown passes, and in-your-face slam dunks?

Thirty or so years ago, a young woman named Kitty Genovese was raped and killed in front of numerous potential witnesses in the courtyard of a New York City apartment building. The psychological explanation for such an unthinkably heinous occurrence was that, under circumstances of nonidentified leadership, each person present, who was aware of others nearby, chose to remain passive due to having attributed the correct intervention (say, calling the police from the safety of their respective homes) to one of the others present—yet no one actually did anything, all paralyzed with fear and intrigue and false assumptions. Remember "diffusion of responsibility?"

Another more obvious applicable psychological truism is that of "mob frenzy," or what transpires when a collection of unquestioning and inebriated followers gets attached to a purposeful warrior-leader.

What to do? Remember that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. . .and a game is just a game. Remind our patients to avoid intoxicated neighbors at the playing field; certainly to avoid any fights during or after or they may wind up subdued by mace or baton by riot officers called in to quell an apparent uprising. This may seem far-fetched in some areas where this sort of behavior seems unthinkable, but it happened to celebratory Colorado State University students at Mile High Stadium last September; to Vietnamese nationals in Hanoi unruly after their soccer rousting by Indonesia in August; and to victims of a fire ignited by rabble-rousers following a football tournament in Mauritius in May.

Better still, how about banning alcohol from what is supposed to be a good, clean fun and comradeship? We’d all be healthier. 

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Dr. Post is a psychiatrist in the Department of Corrections in the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands (U.S.).