Winning Hurts (and So Does Losing)

Image supplied from Unsplash Photos

Half of you said yes. Half said no.

That’s how the results of Canta’s latest Instagram poll landed when we asked:

“Do sports teams’ wins or losses affect your mood?”

The responses were exactly as chaotic as you’d expect from UC students:

“Accidental fasting from my life-changing multi by one leg.”
“Team that wins makes you feel cheerful and motivated!!!”
“I don’t care for it.”
“We’ve become so accustomed to winning that we’ve forgotten what it feels like to lose.”
“I place my entire self-worth in the hands of Chelsea FC.”

So, half of us are emotionally stable. The other half are one missed penalty away from a mental health crisis.

The Highs

Let’s be honest, UC’s a sporty uni. We punch well above our weight in national rankings, the rugby fields are never empty and someone is always trying to convince you to join their social sports team.

There’s real evidence that this is good for us. Studies show sports participation (and even fandom) improves wellbeing, boosts dopamine and gives people a sense of belonging and purpose (Zamani et al., 2023). In Aotearoa, Balance is Better has found sport helps young people develop resilience, social skills and a sense of connection: all things we could use during exam season.

When your team wins, it’s like collective therapy. Everyone’s suddenly your mate. The pub’s louder. The mood on campus lifts. It’s a reminder joy can be shared, and we can still feel part of something bigger than ourselves.

The Lows

But then your team loses.

Cortisol spikes. Motivation drops. You question all your life choices, and suddenly all your assignments look like the enemy.

Research suggests that intense identification with a team can lead to emotional volatility and even depression when they lose (Branscombe & Wann, 1991). It’s like outsourcing your happiness to a bunch of strangers in matching shirts.

In Aotearoa, that usually means rugby.

Until 1970, it was compulsory for all boys in New Zealand to play rugby at school. Think about that. It wasn’t just a sport; it was a national project. We were literally trained to care. Maybe that’s why rugby still dominates our culture, our screens, and in some cases, our politics.

But that also means it carries all the baggage: concussion culture, the “old boys club” mentality and a tendency to treat athletes like demi-gods. There’s something quietly toxic about a game where your body is currency and silence is strength (World Rugby, n.d.).

The Deeper Stuff

Here’s where things get awkward. Because sport isn’t neutral.

As a Māori and a Pākehā kid, I’ve always felt a bit split. The European side of me loves the spectacle, the unity, the national pride. The Māori side of me wonders what got left behind.

Before rugby, Māori played tākaro Māori, games like kī-o-rahi and poi toa. These weren’t about domination or trophies. They were about balance, agility, relationships and whakapapa. You played to build hauora (wellbeing), not ego.

Colonial sport changed that. It was designed to discipline bodies, enforce hierarchy and reward aggression; all traits that served the Empire well. As Māori scholar Brendan Hokowhitu puts it, sport became a way to celebrate “the physical Māori” while silencing the intellectual and spiritual ones.

So when asking whether sports wins or losses affect our mood, maybe the deeper question being asked is: whose game are we playing, and whose rules are we living by?

The Rebuild

UC does sport well, but it’s definitely ‘white-coded’. Traditional sports dominate, and tākaro Māori haven’t yet found much space on the field.

Imagine what our wellbeing could look like if we expanded our definition of “sport” to include Indigenous ways of moving, connecting, and celebrating.

Sport could be about reciprocity, not rivalry. About mauri and mana, not medals. About collective joy, not colonial victory.

The Whistle

So, yeah, for sure sport affects our mood. Sometimes it lifts us. Sometimes it crushes us. Sometimes it just distracts us from focusing on handing in the next assignment.

But maybe the real win isn’t the scoreline. It’s how we reclaim the space. To cheer, to play, to connect and to rebuild something that feels like us.

Because at the end of the day, whether you’re fasting over a multi, celebrating a Crusaders win, or pretending not to care, one thing’s certain: the game’s bigger than we think.