The 'Declinism' of fans obsessed with 'the good old days'

Fans are constantly calling a foul on the present, convinced we’re stuck in a permanent slump. This is Declinism—the stubborn belief that everything is rotting while the "good old days" were pure, unadulterated magic.

Our brains are basically biased referees. We use a trick called "rosy retrospection" to edit the past into a curated highlight reel, conveniently scrubbing out the boring fumbles and the filler that actually made up most of the era.

We aren't actually watching a decline; we're just comparing today’s raw, unedited footage to a heavily polished memory of a championship season that never quite existed.

Wait, why is our brain even programmed to play favorites with the past?

Think of your brain as a team manager trying to keep morale high for the next season. If we remembered every grueling training session and every minor injury with 4K clarity, we’d probably forfeit the league and never leave the locker room.

By dumping the 'boring fumbles' into the trash, your brain performs a tactical cleanup. It keeps the 'big wins' front and center to give you the confidence to keep playing the game today, even when the current match feels like a slog.

It’s basically an internal PR department. It spins your history to make sure you don't retire early from the sport of living just because last year had a few rainy days.

How does our internal PR team decide which plays make the highlight reel?

It’s not a random selection; your brain is looking for the 'peak' intensity and the 'final whistle.' If a moment had high stakes—like a game-winning goal or a crushing tackle—it gets a VIP pass to your long-term memory.

The boring middle overs? They get cut in the edit. We tend to judge an entire season based on the most intense emotional spike and how the final match ended, rather than the average performance across all sixteen rounds.

It’s called the Peak-End Rule. Your brain isn't a spreadsheet; it’s a storyteller that only cares about the climax and the closing ceremony.

So a bad ending can basically trash a whole season of great plays?

Spot on. You could have a team leading the ladder for 20 rounds, playing flawless footy, but if they get thrashed in the Grand Final, fans remember it as a 'failed season.' The brain lets that final whistle act as the definitive summary.

It’s like a five-star meal that ends with a hair in the dessert. You don't walk away thinking about the perfect steak; you walk away complaining about the hair. The ending is the last piece of data your brain receives before it 'saves' the file.

That final impression has a massive influence because it’s the most recent 'score' on the board. It’s not fair, but your internal storyteller loves a dramatic conclusion more than a balanced statistical average.

But surely a long winning streak counts for something more than a short one?

Actually, your brain is surprisingly bad at math. It often ignores the "duration" of the game entirely. Whether you were winning for ten minutes or ten months, the internal highlight reel doesn't care about the clock; it only cares about the intensity.

Think of it like a movie. A three-hour epic with a boring ending feels like a bigger waste of time than a ninety-minute flick that sticks the landing. You don't give the long movie "extra credit" for the two hours of good stuff.

We call this duration neglect. Your memory isn't a stopwatch; it’s a highlight editor that treats a marathon and a sprint the same way if they both end in a faceplant.