If you follow sports, this will sound familiar. If you don't, stick around; you might recognize it anyway.

For the last few years, there's been a series of funny radio ads hailing "Real Men of Genius" — mock tributes to various types of characters commonly found in the sports world. One that's been on the air lately salutes the sports-talk host who, though he's usually no athlete, always has a purportedly authoritative and usually snarky comment on the coaches and players who make the games happen.

Since I can't stand people like that, I get a kick out of this spot. "You know everything there is to know about sports — except how to play them," the pompous, deep-voiced announcer intones. "You can talk about sports for eight hours a day — which is seven hours and 45 minutes longer than anyone will listen."

So true, so true. These guys are all over the airwaves, to say nothing of the newspapers and Websites, especially in big cities. But in my area (a medium-size city and a campus town) it's not so much the talk-show hosts, who are mostly genial enough, as it is the talk-radio callers.

In theory, these people are fans, particularly of the local college athletes at the University of Illinois. There's a certain element, though, who just feel compelled to try dominating the shows with the same gripes, day in and day out. For all the air time they take, the gripes usually can be boiled down to a few words: Fire the coach, Bench the quarterback, etc.

You have to put up with some of that if you want to hear the good parts of the show. But sometimes I just have to shut off the radio.

Partly it's their relentless negativity. The guys I'm thinking of seem to live to complain, and to share their complaints with the world. Lose a game (any game) and you can count on hearing them call in on the radio post-game show; it's the same ones every time.

Partly it's their sourness. They announce their opinion in an exasperated tone that suggests no reasonable folk might fail to share their view, especially the ones who get paid to direct the team on a daily basis. ("How can the coach keep letting so-and-so play?") You wonder if it ever occurs to them that the coaches who spend their time on the job every day likely know just a bit more than they do.

Most of all, though, what bugs me is that they don't act like they would if they really supported and love the teams, the athletes and the game itself.

"We boo because we care," read a sign in a Chicago Cubs crowd which I saw on TV a few weeks back. Sorry, I don't buy it. That's not how you treat people you care about.

If (say) your brother is the quarterback and he fumbles, even at the most crucial point in a game, you'd never dream of booing him. If anything, you'd shout encouragement all the louder, because that's when he needs support the most. You may not feel like cheering, but that's all the more reason to make the effort for him.

Obviously you don't feel as intensely about strangers as you do about your family and friends. Still, the principle is the same. If you're really a fan and it's really your team, your coaches, your players — well, then, you should get behind them. That's pretty basic. When the boo-birds come out, the best fans drown them out with cheers.

Mind you, I understand constructive criticism. I understand lapsing into frustration now and then, lashing out and later regretting it. I understand getting upset if a team isn't trying hard, or if players do something contemptible on or off the field.

But even then, if you're a true fan, you don't step zealously into the role of throwing stones. You don't like ripping your team, especially publicly. You don't stomp your foot and demand that this guy be fired or that guy be benched. You don't dwell on the bad stuff at all; you try to move on quickly and get back to building up your team instead of tearing it down.

Part of the problem, it might be argued, is that some fans care too much about sports — they make it the focus of far too much passion, and they lose all sense of proportion. It's an indisputable point. Yet those attitudes aren't confined to sports. They're all over society.

Including, sorry to say, the church.

Think some people can get vicious toward athletes and coaches? Just look at the heat pastors so often receive within their own congregations. And though the purported reasons vary, often they boil down to the same one generally cited in sports: Failure to win enough.

The pastor's not bringing in enough people. He's not bringing in enough money. He's not a dynamic personality who can lead us to the top. Is he faithful and hard-working? That's beside the point. The rule, as in sports, is, "Win or go home."

Not that the members assailing the pastors would put it that way. They'd be offended by the comparison. They'd tell you that they have far nobler goals than any game: Everything they're doing is to save souls and to increase the good work of the church.

There may be those who mean that. But the people I'm thinking of display such a petulant and often nasty spirit that it's hard to credit them with sincerity. If you've heard the tone at meetings of church boards and voters' assemblies, or in the hallways outside before and after, you probably know what I'm talking about — the gossip, the backbiting, the continual undermining, the ongoing campaign to spread ill will.

It's not only pastors who suffer. It's the church as a whole. I've noticed that the same spirit can carry over to attacks on doctrine and practice. If the sermons spend too much time on unpopular subjects (like sin), if the teaching on gender differences turns off some listeners, if the music isn't peppy enough or doesn't appeal to a big enough audience — then some won't stop complaining until those things change too. They have little patience for theological argument, and they get irritable when pastors and others resort to it.

It may be just a few who are at the heart of it all. In fact, it usually is. But if they're persistent enough, that's all it takes to spread a poisonous atmosphere throughout the church. The spirit of sourness is infectious. Members who aren't among the disgruntled can still grow glum; they may not boo, but they sit on their hands. I've known some who quit coming just to avoid being subjected to the oppressive negativity.

So what to do in those situations? You don't ignore all criticisms of pastors and leaders (some of which may be well founded) or automatically lump everyone who levels them into the same category of malcontents. That said, if it's your church, your pastors, your leaders — well, then you should get behind them. You support them as far as your conscience will allow, and you definitely don't work to undermine them. You raise concerns if you must, but you never contribute to the grumbling. You don't tear down; you build up.

This is one of those things that can take a conscious effort. We all know the kinds of things we should do for the church, but we have to keep reminding ourselves to do them. This can mean volunteering for church groups and projects, but it doesn't have to. There are simple things all of us can do every week. Be friendly with other members (and not just to the same few people every week). Welcome visitors. And make a point of saying a good word to the pastors and leaders, letting them know that you appreciate what they're doing. Seemingly little stuff, but it can make a big difference to them — as anyone who's done the jobs can testify.

Good fans know it's worth making the effort to support their teams. It's certainly worth making the effort for our churches.