Sports...fan?

Why do I do this to myself? Why do we do this to ourselves as fans? I've followed my home teams for decades now. And, especially when they lose, I find myself feeling like my stomach has dropped right out of my body. I can't get over losses easily. I'm not on any of the teams I root for, yet I feel like I might as well be in the locker room with these guys. I feel their pain. A fan's pain. When they wake up in the morning they know that the only way to rectify a tough loss is to get up and go out and make a change. They have the power to control their own destiny; to make themselves feel better. I, on the other hand, am relegated to be a spectator, at best, and hope beyond hope that my team will find a way to will themselves to a win.

I've spent countless hours this year watching the Lakers. I've spent countless hours watching the Chargers. And what do I have to show for it? A bottle of antacids and a growingly pessimistic attitude towards god? Check and check. It really is a ridiculous thing, being a fan. You shouldn't have a vested interest, but they represent your town in some way, therefore you're required to have a vested interest.

I went to see the Charger's playoff game against the New York Jets back in the 2004-05 season. The Charger's had gone 12-4 that year after pundits predicted that they might not win one game. They were riding high after winning their division, and seemed poised to make a deep run into the playoffs. Having followed this team from the lowest of low points to the brink of success made me proud. I was proud to a part of this team's run with destiny. The week leading up to the game was filled with nothing but praise and bold predictions. The Chargers, it seemed, would run the Jets right off the field, and after that, nothing would stand in their way. Well, standing in the early January misting rain at Qualcomm Stadium watching an overtime drive end with a failed 30 yard kick, I knew that the Chargers had just blown the biggest opportunity they had had in a long time. Deflated, would have been a step up from how I felt. A sure thing fizzled out, with one botched kick. The stadium was as quiet as it had been all season. As if collectively we knew it was over.

As I shuffled out of the game, I could only wonder what went so terribly wrong. I felt as if some one had kicked me square the gut. My voice, shredded from cheering, couldn't even utter a primal expletive that would have, surely, made me feel minutely better. All I was left with was the hope that next year would be better. That somehow, they'd pull it together and be able to get over the hump. Coincidentally, they missed the playoffs the next year altogether.

The Lakers just rolled over and died last night. A 20 point lead with a quarter and a half to play should be insurmountable. Unfortunately, the Celtics just didn't care what the script should have been. They stormed back to take a 3-1 series lead, and more than likely killed any hope of a Lakers comeback. It's a sad day for me. It feels a lot like January, and weather has nothing to do with it.

The anecdote does bring me back to my main point, which is, “Why do we, as fans, put ourselves through the ringer like this?” I don't have any rings from watching the Bulls in the '90's. I don't have and banners hanging in my living room from the Lakers' championships of the early 2000's. I can barely remember the Bears winning the Super Bowl in '85. I have nothing tangible that says, “Look what a great fan I am!” I do have amazing memories of winning seasons, but what it boils down to is that I keep coming back to how I feel today. How I feel after my team blows it; Frustrated, numb, and desperate. Sometimes waiting 'till next year just isn't enough.