You know the sound. It usually starts when a pitcher gets pulled from the mound after a rough inning or when a basketball player fouls out in the final minutes of a playoff game. It’s that taunting, rhythmic chant of Na Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye. It feels like it’s been part of the sports atmosphere since the dawn of time, but honestly, the song's origin story is a weird, chaotic mess of studio leftovers and a group that didn't even really exist.
It wasn't supposed to be a hit. Not even close.
The studio scrap that became a legend
Back in 1969, a guy named Paul Leka was working as a producer. He had this old song from his days in a band called The Chops, which he had co-written with Dale Frashuer and Gary DeCarlo. They needed a B-side—essentially the "throwaway" track on the back of a 45 RPM record—for Gary DeCarlo’s solo single. They went into the studio, and because they didn't want the B-side to be too good (they didn't want it overshadowing the A-side), they decided to make it as annoying and repetitive as possible.
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They literally elongated the song with that famous "na na na" hook just to kill time. They didn't have a full set of lyrics, so they just kept singing the nonsense syllables. Leka even added a drum track that was actually a loop from another session because he didn't want to hire a live drummer for a song he thought would go nowhere.
Then something happened that they didn't expect.
The record executives heard the B-side and realized it was way better than the actual single. But there was a problem: Gary DeCarlo didn't want his name on a track he thought was beneath him. So, they invented a band name. They called it Steam. There was no band. It was just studio magic and a bit of ego-saving. To their shock, the song rocketed to number one on the Billboard Hot 100 in late 1969.
Why sports fans stole it
For about a decade, the song lived its life as a catchy, somewhat goofy pop relic of the late sixties. It wasn't until 1977 that it transformed into the weaponized taunt we know today.
Nancy Faust is the person you have to thank (or blame) for that. She was the organist for the Chicago White Sox. Nancy was a genius at reading the room. During a game against the Kansas City Royals, a pitcher was being taken out of the game, and she started playing the chorus of Na Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye. The crowd didn't just listen; they started singing along with a level of vitriol that perfectly captured the "get out of here" energy of a home-field advantage.
It was an instant hit. Bill Veeck, the legendary and eccentric owner of the White Sox, loved it. From that point on, it became a staple at Comiskey Park. It didn't take long for the chant to migrate to the NHL, the NBA, and eventually European soccer stadiums. It’s a rare example of a song's meaning being completely rewritten by the audience rather than the artist.
The irony of the lyrics
If you actually listen to the words—beyond the "na na nas"—it’s actually a pretty standard breakup song. The narrator is talking to a girl, telling her that the guy she’s with is no good and that she should "kiss him goodbye" to be with the narrator instead.
- "He'll never love you, the way that I love you."
- "He's never near you to comfort and cheer you."
When 20,000 people scream it at a visiting player, the romantic subtext is completely erased. It becomes a funeral march for an opponent's ego. There’s something deeply human about that transition. We take a piece of pop culture and bend it until it fits our tribal needs. In this case, the tribal need is telling a professional athlete they just failed in front of a live audience.
The legal and financial weirdness
Because the band Steam didn't really exist, the aftermath of the song's success was a bit of a legal nightmare. Gary DeCarlo, the voice you actually hear on the track, didn't tour to support it initially. Instead, a fake group of musicians was assembled to go on the road and lip-sync the song on TV shows like American Bandstand.
DeCarlo spent years trying to reclaim his legacy as the voice of that song. It’s a bittersweet story. He watched his "throwaway" track become one of the most played songs in human history, yet for a long time, people didn't know his face or his name. He passed away in 2017, but not before he finally got some of the recognition he deserved through documentaries and interviews that set the record straight on who actually sang those "na nas."
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Why it still works today
Music theorists have actually looked at why this specific melody is so effective for crowds. The interval between the notes is easy for the average person to hit—even if they’ve had three beers and are screaming at the top of their lungs. It’s also built on a very simple, driving beat that mimics a heartbeat or a march.
It’s also surprisingly versatile.
- In politics, it’s been used at rallies when a candidate loses or an opponent is mentioned.
- In movies, it's the go-to "triumphant exit" song (think Remember the Titans).
- In school hallways, it’s the ultimate graduation taunt.
The song has survived disco, hair metal, grunge, and the digital age without losing its punch. It’s a "utility song." It serves a purpose.
What most people get wrong
A common misconception is that the song was written for a commercial or a sporting event. People often assume that because it’s so synonymous with stadiums, it must have been a jingle. Nope. It was just three guys in a studio in Connecticut trying to finish a B-side so they could go home.
Another mistake? Thinking the song is called "The Na Na Song." It has a very specific, slightly clunky title: Na Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye. If you ever try to look it up on a streaming service, make sure you use the full title, or you'll end up with a dozen different covers by bands that tried to capture that same lightning in a bottle.
The legacy of a "fake" band
Steam never had another hit. How could they? They weren't a real band to begin with. But they don't need one. One song that plays in every stadium in the world every single week is more than most legendary rock stars ever achieve.
The next time you're at a game and the organ starts those four iconic notes, remember Paul Leka and Gary DeCarlo. They thought they were making a joke. They thought they were making a filler track that no one would ever hear twice. Instead, they wrote the soundtrack for every "walk of shame" in sports history.
Actionable insights for the curious
If you want to dig deeper into the world of stadium anthems or the history of this specific track, here is what you should do:
- Listen to the original 1969 45 RPM version: Pay attention to the drum loop. Knowing it’s a "fake" loop makes the mechanical, driving feel of the song make so much more sense.
- Watch the "Remember the Titans" scene: It’s perhaps the best cinematic use of the song and shows how it can be used for unity rather than just taunting.
- Check out Nancy Faust's interviews: She’s a legend in the world of sports music. Hearing her explain how she chose songs to "troll" players in the 70s is a masterclass in crowd psychology.
- Look for the Bananarama cover: In the 80s, the girl group Bananarama did a version that brought the song back to the pop charts, proving the melody is indestructible regardless of the genre.
The song is proof that you don't always need a masterpiece to change culture. Sometimes you just need a catchy hook and a crowd of people looking for a way to say "goodbye" to their rivals.