Hope
The Indianapolis Colts lost a heartbreaker to the Steelers today, ending their season and adding yet another first-round playoff loss to Peyton Manning's resume. Two months ago they were 13-0, had wrapped up the NFL's best record, and were looking to be the first undefeated team since 1972. Then they lost to San Diego, then they lost again, and now their season is over. I commiserate, Colts fans. I totally get it.
I've had my share of athletic disappointment and heartbreak. For a Wake Forest fan, it just comes with the territory. While Duke and Carolina make perennial runs to the Final Four, my Deacs have strong regular seasons followed by second-round losses. In ten years Wake has been ranked number 1 twice, won a coupla ACC regular season titles, and had several first round NBA draft picks. This has yielded a grand total of one tournament victory: the NIT.
Then there's professional sports. My Atlanta Braves have won fourteen straight divisional titles. Fourteen. I'm eighteen years old; I do not remember the Braves not being in the playoffs. Yet every year, some punk Florida team (or worse, the Yankees) gets on a run after winning 85 games in the regular season and puts my team out. In five games.
The Panthers followed a 1-15 season with a trip to the Super Bowl, only to fall in the final seconds to the team I loathe more than any other (except, of course, for Carolina). The next season they missed the playoffs, only to get back in this year (only by the skin of their teeth). Anyone wanna take a guess as to how this season is going to end?
Sports divides the world into winners and losers, and I understand that for every champion there must be dozens of vanquished foes lying in the dirt. I tell myself that things could be worse: I could be a Clippers fan, or a Lions fan, or perhaps an alumnus of Rutgers. But every time I try to convince myself that obscurity is preferable to disappointment I remember how West Virginia caught fire in last year's NCAA tournament. And inside, a little part of me dies.
So maybe that was a bit melodramatic, but I can't help but feel that way sometimes. What I've learned from eighteen years of fanhood is that expectation is the greatest enemy. High rankings, promising starts, credit from the media: all of them can only mean bad endings. I develop low expectations as a defense mechanism. I cringed when the Panthers were Sports Illustrated's Preseason Super Bowl pick. Wake's preseason ranking was a curse because, of course, there was no way it would ever hold up. Not for me; it never does.
Why do sports fans do this to themselves? Most fans spend their lives coping with letdown, and unless you're a Yankees, Carolina, Duke, or Patriots fan, they worry even more during good seasons (fans of the aforementioned teams have other complexes, but I won't go into them right now). I remember how Red Sox fans would bicker every October during the Curse, how they'd argue with each other about how their beloved Sox were going to blow it this year. And the thing is, I do the same thing. When I turned on the Panthers game tonight and found my team up 13-0, I almost turned the TV off. I couldn't stand it; I didn't wanna go through losing a double digit lead.
Every time it happens I make a resolution. This is the last time I'm getting burned, no more obsession, no more personal connection with my team. I really mean it, I'm not doing this to myself anymore. But I just can't tear myself away, no matter how hard I try. It's like I'm programmed to care. All I can do is just brace myself for the worst.
And then the Panthers hold on to a small lead late in the game to beat the Bears. Wake Forest is playing Maryland right now, and though they trail by eight points, I can't help but glance at the TV and hope Justin Gray will hit a few three pointers. You just never know.
Andy Dufraine said in the Shawshank Redemption, "Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things." I don't know if that's true or not, but I do know that hope is the only thing that keeps neurotic fans like me going. Maybe that's why I keep watching, keep risking disappointment in the quest for jubilation. Because I just can't help but hope that maybe this time (or maybe the time after that) it'll be different.
I've had my share of athletic disappointment and heartbreak. For a Wake Forest fan, it just comes with the territory. While Duke and Carolina make perennial runs to the Final Four, my Deacs have strong regular seasons followed by second-round losses. In ten years Wake has been ranked number 1 twice, won a coupla ACC regular season titles, and had several first round NBA draft picks. This has yielded a grand total of one tournament victory: the NIT.
Then there's professional sports. My Atlanta Braves have won fourteen straight divisional titles. Fourteen. I'm eighteen years old; I do not remember the Braves not being in the playoffs. Yet every year, some punk Florida team (or worse, the Yankees) gets on a run after winning 85 games in the regular season and puts my team out. In five games.
The Panthers followed a 1-15 season with a trip to the Super Bowl, only to fall in the final seconds to the team I loathe more than any other (except, of course, for Carolina). The next season they missed the playoffs, only to get back in this year (only by the skin of their teeth). Anyone wanna take a guess as to how this season is going to end?
Sports divides the world into winners and losers, and I understand that for every champion there must be dozens of vanquished foes lying in the dirt. I tell myself that things could be worse: I could be a Clippers fan, or a Lions fan, or perhaps an alumnus of Rutgers. But every time I try to convince myself that obscurity is preferable to disappointment I remember how West Virginia caught fire in last year's NCAA tournament. And inside, a little part of me dies.
So maybe that was a bit melodramatic, but I can't help but feel that way sometimes. What I've learned from eighteen years of fanhood is that expectation is the greatest enemy. High rankings, promising starts, credit from the media: all of them can only mean bad endings. I develop low expectations as a defense mechanism. I cringed when the Panthers were Sports Illustrated's Preseason Super Bowl pick. Wake's preseason ranking was a curse because, of course, there was no way it would ever hold up. Not for me; it never does.
Why do sports fans do this to themselves? Most fans spend their lives coping with letdown, and unless you're a Yankees, Carolina, Duke, or Patriots fan, they worry even more during good seasons (fans of the aforementioned teams have other complexes, but I won't go into them right now). I remember how Red Sox fans would bicker every October during the Curse, how they'd argue with each other about how their beloved Sox were going to blow it this year. And the thing is, I do the same thing. When I turned on the Panthers game tonight and found my team up 13-0, I almost turned the TV off. I couldn't stand it; I didn't wanna go through losing a double digit lead.
Every time it happens I make a resolution. This is the last time I'm getting burned, no more obsession, no more personal connection with my team. I really mean it, I'm not doing this to myself anymore. But I just can't tear myself away, no matter how hard I try. It's like I'm programmed to care. All I can do is just brace myself for the worst.
And then the Panthers hold on to a small lead late in the game to beat the Bears. Wake Forest is playing Maryland right now, and though they trail by eight points, I can't help but glance at the TV and hope Justin Gray will hit a few three pointers. You just never know.
Andy Dufraine said in the Shawshank Redemption, "Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things." I don't know if that's true or not, but I do know that hope is the only thing that keeps neurotic fans like me going. Maybe that's why I keep watching, keep risking disappointment in the quest for jubilation. Because I just can't help but hope that maybe this time (or maybe the time after that) it'll be different.
posted by Nialator at 8:33 PM
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