"Fans Have More Friends" is a refreshing and insightful book that reframes how we think about sports fandom, community, and human connection. With a blend of solid research, engaging storytelling, and practical insights, authors Ben Valenta and David Sikorjak make a compelling case that being part of a fan community isn’t just fun — it’s good for our social lives and overall well-being. From the outset, the book’s central premise feels both surprising and intuitive: that fans tend to have stronger social connections, deeper friendships, and a greater sense of belonging than those who aren’t engaged in fandom. Through extensive surveys, interviews, and personal stories gathered over years of research, Valenta and Sikorjak demonstrate that fandom can act as an antidote to loneliness and social isolation — a particularly resonant message in a world where many people report feeling disconnected. What makes 'Fans Have More Friends" especially compelling is how it bala...

  Team sports events organized by neighbors can play a significant role in strengthening a community by fostering connection, cooperation, and a sense of belonging.  The ultimate example might be SGF Kickball, which  gained attention beyond Springfield. It was recently selected for the “Best Neighborhood Program” award by Neighborhoods USA. NUSA is a national group that has been celebrating great community programs for over 50 years. Just being named one of the top nominees in the country is a big deal for a volunteer-led program that started as a simple challenge between friends. Other cities with finalist programs in 2025 included Pasadena, California, Waco, Texas, Fort Lauderdale, Florida, St. Louis, Missouri, Monrovia, California, Anna, Texas, El Paso, Texas, Chandler, Arizona, Muncie, Indiana and St. Petersburg, Florida. A Fun Idea That Took Off The idea for SGF Kickball began with two friends—Bobbi Ream and Kevin Evans—talking about how to help their neighborhoods...

Leadership coach John C. Maxwell once said, “Fail early, fail often, but always fail forward.” I used to assume great leaders avoided failure. Now I know the opposite is true: failure is often the tuition we pay for wisdom. And for me, that lesson started with worms. In fifth grade, I decided I could make money raising and selling earthworms. After all, a young Springfield entrepreneur named Johnny Morris had begun selling fishing supplies in the back of his dad’s liquor store. If he could make a business out of bait, why couldn’t I? I collected coffee grounds from my grandmother, built my own worm farm in the backyard, struck a deal with the local Texaco station, and even made yard signs to drive traffic. My parents must have wondered what they had unleashed. But when my first customer arrived, there was one small issue: I couldn’t find a single worm to sell. Same result with customer number two. When customer number three—my grandfather—showed up with his fishing rod in hand, he surv...

  Oof, that pot-and-pan dinner story lives rent-free in my head because it perfectly captures a common mistake good people make when they’re trying to “reach” others: they accidentally bait-and-switch them. Here’s the fuller version of what happened. Back when my wife and I were young, I was working in the alumni and development office at a local university. My job—at least as I understood it—was to build genuine relationships with alumni. So when a well-known alum invited us over for dinner, we felt like we’d hit a milestone. My wife was excited to see another home and enjoy a nice evening. I was excited that my relationship-building efforts were paying off. We arrived at a beautiful house. The host was cooking on the island in a pristine kitchen, preparing a fancy meal that we would never have tried on our own in those days. We sat down, enjoyed great conversation, and I remember thinking, This is it. This is what real relationship-building looks like. This is how trust grows. Th...

Most people think of “neighboring” as a personality trait: some people are friendly, some keep to themselves, and most wave twice a year when forced by lawn care season. But what if neighboring isn’t a personality type at all? What if it’s a cause ? In America we’re used to the idea that worthy causes become places we can volunteer , donate, serve, or advocate for. Hunger is a cause. Literacy is a cause. Animal welfare is a cause. Clean water is a cause. These causes build organizations, raise money, mobilize volunteers, and attract champions. But neighboring — the small, ordinary work of knowing and caring for the people who live within shouting distance — has strangely never been framed that way. Until now. Neighboring as a Volunteer Opportunity When neighbors check on a widow after knee surgery, shovel a driveway, host a block party, deliver cookies to the new family on the street, or organize a yard clean-up for a family in crisis, they are volunteering. But because our culture is ...

  In recent years, many people have described a growing sense of fear and reluctance to speak honestly, even about things we privately agree on. In When the Majority Goes Quiet: Fear, Trust and the Spiral We Can Still Break , the author—drawing on the psychological concept of the “spiral of silence”—argues that people are increasingly hesitate to share their views not because they lack strong beliefs, but because they fear social, professional, and personal retaliation for doing so.  When decent, thoughtful voices go quiet, only the loudest and often the most divisive get heard, creating a false sense of consensus and deepening distrust.  This dynamic has parallels with a broader social condition: human isolation.  When people retreat from one another—whether physically, socially, or psychologically—trust erodes and fear becomes easier to sustain. What neuroscience and social science increasingly reveal is that human connection is not just nice to have; it’s essentia...

  The Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race is often described as “the last great race on Earth.” Spanning more than 1,000 miles across Alaska’s harshest terrain, it is a test of endurance, adaptability, and willpower. While most of us will never mush a dog team through subzero temperatures and blinding snow, the lessons of the Iditarod apply powerfully to our work in neighborhoods—especially when that work is long-term, complex, and deeply human. First, the Iditarod teaches us the importance of preparation . Winning teams don’t just show up at the starting line with strong dogs and hope for the best. Mushers spend years training, studying the trail, building trust with their teams, and planning for countless scenarios: storms, injuries, equipment failure, exhaustion. Preparation doesn’t eliminate hardship, but it equips teams to respond when hardship inevitably comes.  In neighborhood work, preparation matters just as much . Understanding the history of a place, listening before actin...

Who is the best neighbor in literature? And perhaps more urgently: what do we owe the people who live closest to us? Most of us don’t get to choose our neighbors any more than we choose our relatives, and yet they occupy a unique moral and psychological space in our lives. They are close enough to inconvenience, annoy, insult, and occasionally wound us — and close enough to surprise us with unexpected kindness. Does proximity create responsibility? That question sits at the heart of my novel A Gracious Neighbor . Its protagonist, Martha Hale, is a friendly but socially clumsy wife and mother in a manicured, affluent neighborhood. Isolated by her failed attempts to integrate into the local social ecosystem, Martha becomes enthralled when the glamorous Minnie Foster — once a classmate — moves in next door. Martha’s eagerness to rekindle a teenage connection spirals into a fixation that she convinces herself is benevolence. Her attempts to defend Minnie’s reputation are well-intentioned, ...

  Author's note: Progressive released this commercial in 2020. I wrote the first column in 2021, and updated it in 2025 and then again in 2026. Progressive Insurance recently released a commercial called “ Neighborhood Mayor .” In it, a cheerful and hyper-involved neighbor chats over hedges, waves at everyone walking past, and seems to have an impressive knowledge of what’s happening on her street. The punchline of the ad, of course, is that she’s gone too far — that her level of awareness is intrusive, over-the-top, and vaguely creepy. It’s funny, and humor absolutely has value. Sometimes humor can surface important issues. But it’s also shaped by the cultural moment we’re living in — a moment where “good neighbors” are praised most for keeping to themselves, minding their own business, and not bothering anyone. And that’s where Progressive’s message misses the mark. Engagement vs. Meddling — We’ve Lost the Distinction There is a real difference between being engaged and being a...