Who gets chosen to be on team ‘belong’?
When we look at sport as a whole there are lots of ways to belong. If I think of my family unit as an example…
We have those in the family that feel like they belong to a team/club in an area of the UK far from where we live. Content is streamed on the TV, online, through the news about the highs and lows of their team. There have been more lows this year than previous years. And yet that sense of belonging persists. It is largely one way traffic - their team/club does little to make them feel like they belong there other than wear a specific team kit and try and win matches and sell them expensive merch. Their players do things on and off the pitch that are celebrated until they aren’t, but the force of brand loyalty remains. Is this belonging? Or fandom and blind faith and following?
We also have some in the family who feel like they belong with national teams for sports like cricket/ netball etc, but others in the family who choose to belong to a different national team. Is this belonging? And can it/ should it change based on your passport or country of residence? Is it the green and gold or the red & white? And can it be fluid to be true belonging?
Then we have active belongers - those who turn up to participate in their teams. But turning up and playing for a team doesn’t always equal belonging to a club. My son for example probably feels far more emotionally invested in his premier league football team than his grassroots local team in which he plays. He loves playing with his team mates but the grassroots environment does a good job of turning players and parents away. The level of swearing, aggressive behaviour, arguing against the referee is toxic and exhausting. It’s role modelled at an elite level, but ‘maybe’ easier to compartmentalise when its not directed at you (by a grown man calling himself a volunteer manager shouting at young people playing sport). Instead it’s on a screen and by people who are earning more in a week than most people make in a lifetime. Is this belonging? Playing and turning up regularly to play doesn’t mean emotional engagement but could it?
We also have examples in our family where our young players are part of a team and do feel connected and looked after by their club. My daughters play sport for their local, community club. They are part of a team that is part of a wider club infrastructure. In both examples they feel like they are valued and part of a wider collective. But they don’t win more game than they lose. Is this belonging? Is the metric of belonging ‘weaker’ because they don’t win medals or matches regularly?
Around them are littered with examples of girls (and boys) being lured to performance clubs, private businesses showcasing a pathway to elite sport, opening the door a little to be dangled a professional dream, at a cost - financial and emotional. When the going is good and the team’s fortunes are on the winning side and you’re in the starting team, you feel good. When you’re cast adrift for the next taller, or fitter player, or you make a mistake and you’re shouted at and then benched… is this belonging? You’re part of an elite club, an elite group of single focused identity. You’re travelling miles and the conversations with your family are in the car heading to the next practice or game day, and family holidays are put on hold or truncated to fit around the schedule someone else sets for you and your team. Is this belonging?
What does it mean to belong in sport?
We can help unlock the different facets of belonging. The answers matter more than most sport organisations currently recognise.
Belonging isn't binary. It isn't simply about whether someone shows up, pays their membership fee, or wears the badge. The stories above, from the armchair fan whose loyalty survives years of disappointment, to the young girl who feels genuinely seen by her local club, to the teenager whose grassroots experience is slowly poisoned by adult behaviour all point to something more layered, more emotional, and more fragile than most sport bodies are equipped to talk about.
And yet belonging may be the most powerful force sport has.
When people truly belong: when they feel valued, connected, and part of something that reflects who they are, they stay.
They bring others.
They give back.
They forgive the hard seasons.
They become the culture.
When they don't belong, they leave quietly (sometimes they leave loudly - ouch). Or they stay physically but check out emotionally. And sport loses something it rarely notices until it's gone.
The challenge for sport organisations is that belonging has never really been treated as a strategic priority. It seems to live in the gap between participation data and winning margins. Between retention targets and the reason a child cries or blames the ref for losing on the way home from training.
That gap is where the real work is.
So what could more strategic thinking about belonging look like?
It starts with asking better questions. Not just how many people are playing?
but… do they feel like they matter here?
Not just what's our retention rate?
but… what would make someone feel like they could never imagine leaving?
It means understanding that belonging operates at multiple levels simultaneously: to a team, a club, a sport, a community, an identity and that these can reinforce or undermine each other in ways that are rarely mapped or understood.
It means recognising that belonging can be designed. The environments, behaviours, rituals, and relationships that make people feel included or excluded are not accidental. They are built by the decisions sport organisations make every day.
If this resonates with you, if you lead, shape, or care about a sport organisation and you're ready to think more strategically about culture and belonging then let’s connect and have a chat.
Whether you're trying to understand why people are leaving, how to build something more inclusive, or simply how to articulate what makes your sport or club worth belonging to, get in touch and let's talk about belonging.