When the New York Knicks battled through a five-game series against the San Antonio Spurs, New York City erupted into nights of bustling streets, cheering fans and basketball projections lighting up buildings downtown. The series made national news, and TikTok filled with clips of fans celebrating in the streets.
But underneath the celebration videos, a quieter argument was playing out in the comments. Longtime Knicks fans were accusing the newly arrived crowd of LARPing as fans of a team they’d never followed before this success – and the word was showing up everywhere.
The term traces back to LARP, or Live Action Role Play. Online, it picked up a sharper meaning: pretending to be someone you’re not, whether that’s faking wealth, expertise, or, in this case, fandom. It’s usually meant as an insult.
In the past year, the term gained popularity in reference to music fans promoting mainstream artists without any background in their discography. But, the term quickly grew to encompass all fandoms.
Google Trends recorded a 5,000% increase in search interest of “larping” over the past five years. YouTube search data showed a 400% increase in the term’s appearance in just the past year.
Chris Williams, a New York City local and long time Knicks fan, expressed his frustration with fans LARPing their support for the team.
“At some point the LARPing has to stop,” Williams said. “I’ve waited almost my entire life for this moment. If you’re not from the boroughs, if you’re not from the state, then you can stay on the other side.”
Not everyone accused of LARPing minded the label. Zion Mekonnen, a TikToker and marketing undergraduate student at the University of Southern California, owned it.
“I typically hate the term LARP because I feel like it’s misused 99% of the time, but I will admit right now I am 100% LARPing being a Knicks fan,” Mekonnen said. She had never watched basketball before this series, she said, but the energy around the team pulled her in anyway.
“I really love the sense of community it brings, and I want to be involved,” she said. “So even though I know nothing about basketball, Go Knicks.”
For Dr. Todd Donavan, associate professor of marketing at Colorado State University, the tension wasn’t really about basketball at all – it was a familiar psychological pattern with a name.
“Why does the success of a team reflect on you? Because we know you’re a fan, and you’re associated with a winner,” Donavan said, describing what researchers call “basking in reflective glory” – the pride people take in a team, school or workplace succeeding, whether or not they had anything to do with it. That same pride, he said, is what turns on newer fans once they show up only after the wins start.
“The long-term fans want to go: ‘Wait a minute! You’re just a bandwagon fan,’” Donavan said. “It logically makes sense that the loyal fans kind of get elitist.”
The argument doesn’t stay confined to sports. Cathy Tran, an 18-year-old self-proclaimed fangirl, sees the same instinct running through fan communities generally.
“We’re in a superiority complex epidemic,” Tran said. “Treating things like they’re niche and not letting others experience things is the sole reason why community in fandoms are dying.”
Sports fans have long had their own word for this: bandwagon. But where “bandwagon” measures loyalty in seasons and standings, LARP borrows its logic from gaming and online subcultures – judging fandom less by how long someone’s rooted for a team and more by whether the performance feels earned.
New York University sociologist and games scholar professor, Dr. Ashley Guajardo, researched the culture surrounding subgroups of fandoms – and is also a frequent Comic-Con attendee. Guajardo said most of the term LARPing plays out online rather than in person.
“If you’re sitting there going, ‘Oh well, you’re not a real fan,’ that’s going to bring the mood down,” she said. “I would imagine if they did, people would just kind of walk away from them because that’s not the vibe.”
For traditionalists, fandom is an identity earned through years of heartbreak. But for a new generation raised on viral trends, it’s a costume you can put on for a night – and maybe, if the energy is right, never take off.
