What’s your problem, you over-compensated narcissist? You’re supposed to be the uniform of fairness! But instead, you use your position to capture the limelight. You ol’ scene stealer, you! If you look closely enough, there could be a holding penalty called on any given play, even a kickoff. But you, for whatever reason, decided before the game that only MY team would commit holding penalties today. It’s not because the other team is better, or that my team is making all the mistakes. No. It’s because you blindly hate me, Mr. Bernie Kukar. Me, and my New York Football Giants. Have I ever offended you in any way? As far as I know, the only conversing I’ve had with you has been through a television screen, albeit not as one-sided of conversations as one would assume. Perhaps it’s the Giants you have issues with. Does dwarfism run in your family? Did you get made fun of as a child for being short? You seem to be pretty tall to me, so perhaps there are other “shortcomings” you are venting over?
It’s hard enough as a Giants fan to hope your team will overcome a deficit late in the game and stake a comeback, but whenever YOU’RE the ref that’s when all the flags start flying! That wasn’t pass interference, the pass went sailing into the stands! Illegal defense?!?! What the hell is that? Did the turf suddenly turn into hardwood?
So I now look to you during one of the most promising seasons for the Giants in quite awhile, and can only hope that whatever their fate is lies in their own hands, not your back pocket. I raise my flag to you, my white flag, Bernie Kukar, in the hopes that you can drop this foolish tirade of big blue hate and let us fairly play out our own destiny.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
WIN VS. LOSS
I feel as though most people like to think that winning has a greater impact than losing, and that it gauges a far more spirited reaction, emotionally. Maybe it’s because I’m a realist, maybe it’s because I’m a bitter Giants fan, but bottom line, any football fan can tell you that much more energy gets exhausted from a loss than from a win.
When fans first make this realization, it’s obviously a little depressing. No one wants to believe the human spirit works that way, but if you think rationally, it makes perfect sense. When your team wins, that means for the most part, everybody on the team did their job at their position (unless of course your team is the Bears and you can throw four interceptions and still win on plays miraculously pulled out of the defense’s ass). You give high fives to your buddies, smile, have a laugh, and breathe a sigh of relief knowing that you won’t have to be burdened with losing highlights on Sportscenter for the next week.
See, there’s a primary obstacle at work that all fans possess which makes losing that much more of a burden. That obstacle comes in the form of pride, that sense of being a part of the team that actually plays a legitimate role (either superstitiously or cheering-based) in the outcome of one of your team’s games. Because of this, when your team loses, you not only feel bad that they lost but also because you might have been able to do something differently that might have led to a win.
This is how people become die hard fans. This is why I stood and cried during a beautiful sunset in Tampa Bay on a warm afternoon in January as I watched my G-men take the field, donning their freshly-sewn blue jerseys with the Super Bowl XXXV logo patched onto the front left. I also cried later in the game, beginning around the end of the 3rd quarter, stuffing my rally towel underneath my hat to properly cover my face in shame.
So there you have it. Both a win and a loss can result in tears. However, those of dismay lasted me from that 3rd quarter until my dad and I landed back in Newark the next day. And the pain of knowing we got that close and lost still lingers today. While nothing can take away the glory of being a champion, so too the pain of losing never dies.
When fans first make this realization, it’s obviously a little depressing. No one wants to believe the human spirit works that way, but if you think rationally, it makes perfect sense. When your team wins, that means for the most part, everybody on the team did their job at their position (unless of course your team is the Bears and you can throw four interceptions and still win on plays miraculously pulled out of the defense’s ass). You give high fives to your buddies, smile, have a laugh, and breathe a sigh of relief knowing that you won’t have to be burdened with losing highlights on Sportscenter for the next week.
See, there’s a primary obstacle at work that all fans possess which makes losing that much more of a burden. That obstacle comes in the form of pride, that sense of being a part of the team that actually plays a legitimate role (either superstitiously or cheering-based) in the outcome of one of your team’s games. Because of this, when your team loses, you not only feel bad that they lost but also because you might have been able to do something differently that might have led to a win.
This is how people become die hard fans. This is why I stood and cried during a beautiful sunset in Tampa Bay on a warm afternoon in January as I watched my G-men take the field, donning their freshly-sewn blue jerseys with the Super Bowl XXXV logo patched onto the front left. I also cried later in the game, beginning around the end of the 3rd quarter, stuffing my rally towel underneath my hat to properly cover my face in shame.
So there you have it. Both a win and a loss can result in tears. However, those of dismay lasted me from that 3rd quarter until my dad and I landed back in Newark the next day. And the pain of knowing we got that close and lost still lingers today. While nothing can take away the glory of being a champion, so too the pain of losing never dies.
ANTICIPATION
Since the final whistle blew of their previous game, this match-up has consumed every thought in your head. You’ve read all the comparisons, reviews, analyses, and statistics. You’ve heard every bogus stat comparison from who’s better on stopping the run on 2nd and long to which team has more current starters picked in the 4th round of the draft or later. You know their weapons and what your team has to do right to keep them from hurting you. As if the build up wasn’t enough, the game has now been pushed back to 4pm because the context of the match-up is so significant. Division rivals fighting for both the top spot in the NFC East and a potential home-field advantage throughout the playoffs. Your New York Football Giants hosting the hated Philadelphia Eagles. And so you wake up that Sunday morning, after hardly getting to sleep at all, jump in the shower, and throw on your traditional “fan’s uniform.” You eat your breakfast with your eyes glued to every pre-game show imaginable, just waiting for any sort of segment that features your game or team. Of course, in your head, they should simply devote the entire two hours to your game, because every other match-up pales in comparison. You grab your friends/family/whoever, hop in the car, and race over to the stadium powered entirely by anticipation and adrenaline. You show up and find great parking, which is a surprise, until you remember that the game was pushed back until four and you’re three-and-half hours early. No better way to kill time than by grilling and drinking with fellow die-hards while throwing a football around in the parking lot. The superstitions come into play here, not only in the form of your tried-and-true outfit but also in certain activities. You’ll throw the ball with a friend, forcing ten consecutive completions without a drop to ensure a victory, with any additional completions counting towards potential overtime situations. This is what you do, this is why you’re here. This is why you refer to your favorite team as “we” and not as “they.” All that’s left now is to watch and cheer, knowing that your presence and accompanying spirit is just the spark your team will need to come out of this game victorious.
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