In this playoff season, I try to shut my eyes to products featured in commercial time-outs. You’ve seen them? The cryptic medicines to treat unspecified ailments? The pickup trucks and beer brands that signal ruggedness and romantic success. Or more tempting, the gooey-delectable double-cheese-pepperoni pizzas with yet more cheese stuffed in the crust. But one other caught my ear for novel English usage. Namely, the new infinitive “to fan.”

The 2025 “Fan Like a Pro” campaign advertises official items that help followers to properly “fan.” Jerseys sewn with star players' numbers, of course; naturally, also team-themed beanies and hats, and jackets with logos. These wearables mean to demonstrate allegiance and passion.

The sense of belonging and shared aspiration fuel fandom. Making it clear that fandom goes two ways, however, one sports-celebrity endorser observes: “the fans are really part of the lineup.”

That is a bit of magical thinking. Fans’ cheers and jeers will make it hard for opposing linemen to hear signals, inviting a “false start” that penalizes the opponent 5 yards. But fervent hope will not bend the field-goal kicker’s kick even one degree or add a single horsepower to a tush-push.

Marketers oblige “the 12th man” (who is sometimes given official recognition on a stadium’s banner honor roll) with an avalanche of items that mean to signal loyalty, enthusiasm, expertise and experience, and aspiration.

A surprising variety includes hoodies, T-shirts, “flattering” sweatshirts for women, gloves, caps, socks, and hats with club emblems, team balaclavas and sweatpants and leggings striped in red, white, and blue. Baby bibs recruit dribbling fanlets. Also barbecue spatulas, backpacks and fanny packs, beer-can cozies. A “Buffalo Bills Ladies Nuance Striped........

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