COLUMN: Through thick and thin — I am a fan
Why do I put myself through it? The hobby I have chosen brings with it very high highs and very low lows. I lose sleep over it. It consumes my thoughts during classes.
No, I don’t have a gambling problem, and I’m not an alcoholic, or a drug addict. I’m a fan.
After the Broncos lost to Miami Sunday night, my wife put me in a straight jacket and removed all sharp objects from our house.
Well, not really. But if it had been a playoff game, I really would have been on 24-hour suicide watch.
I’m sure Utah State football fans who went to the BYU game can sympathize.
If you think what I have written so far is a bit drastic, this column might not be for you.
However, if you, like me, have ever missed school on a Monday because your team played poorly on Sunday, you know what it means to be a fan.
As a fan, wins and losses are completely relative. It’s not as simple as win equals happy and loss equals sad.
For example, if you are a Utah State football fan, a loss against Iowa isn’t going to send you into full-blown depression. If every loss did this, you would be popping Prozac like it was candy.
However, if you’re a Yankees fan (aka bandwagon fans), anything less than a World Series Championship will ruin your year.
Some games are more important than others. These are the ones that bring the euphoric highs and the disheartening lows. USU leads BYU 34-7 at halftime equals Hallelujah. BYU comes back to win 35-34 equals kill me now.
In 1996, I had a “kill-me-now” experience.
The Broncos had an amazing season. They were headed to the playoffs and had secured home-field advantage. Searching the classifieds, I found a pair of great tickets for sale for the first playoff game. So, as any fan would do, I irresponsibly took out a large amount of money from my savings account and bought the ticket.
My friend and I showed up at the game even before John Elway. Once there, we drove around the parking lot blaring the Rocky soundtrack out of the window. We were pumped. Later that day, they lost to the Jaguars. It was time for the straight jacket.
I went home and lay face down on the couch moaning “noooooooo … noooooooo …”, for three and one-half hours. To this day, my mom says she has never seen me so upset.
Broncos Head Coach Mike Shanahan’s son was a friend of mine in high school and he came to me the Monday after and told me I was the only person he could think of who was probably more upset than his dad.
Sunday’s game reminded me of the thoughts that went through my head that day:
“Why do you put yourself through this?”
“Is it really worth hating the world for a week every time they lose?”
For the first time, I gave consideration to giving up my dangerous addiction and taking up basket weaving or some other hobby that would take me off of this emotional roller coaster. But after much thought I came to a conclusion.
It’s worth it. Perhaps I’m so far into it that it’s not really my choice anymore. Kind of like the alcoholic who says he really could quit drinking if he wanted to. But as I look back at the joy being a fan has given me, I’m reassured it is worth it.
Of course, I was out of the country in Australia for the two years the Broncos won the Super Bowl. But watching those Super Bowls on a summer Monday morning half way across the world is still one of the high points of my life.
I know that in exchange for those two glorious moments, I had to trade 20 years of burying my head in the couch and, in my earlier years, crying temper tantrums. OK, so maybe once in a while I still stomp around the house crying.
I also know that with only one team of 32 winning the Super Bowl each year, there will be more straight-jacket days ahead of me. But even with all of the grief, when the day comes they do win again, it will all be worthwhile.