The Troll’s 2013 NFL Predictions

Like all right-thinking Americans, I am a football fan. I am ready for another season of NFL action. Here are my daring predictions for the 2013 NFL season:

Week 1: A notable quarterback will run a keeper out of the read option only to learn (too late) that a large and swift defensive end has been waiting for this play since last February. All NFL teams will wear a black arm patch in memory of the quarterback.

Week 2: The NFL Rules Committee will adopt the Torso Rule requiring all tackles be made between the belt line and shoulders unless the ball carrier grants permission for a hit in another area.

Week 3: After studying the new tackling rules, NFL legend Jim Brown will come out of retirement and sign with the Browns. Brown will find the new NFL much tougher than we he last played in 1965. The 77-year-old Brown will be held to 66 yards rushing in his first game back.

Week 4: Rex Ryan will be fired after the Jets 55-3 loss to the Buffalo Bills. Ryan will inexplicably bench Mark Sanchez after one play and replace him with a tackling sled. The sled will lead the Jets to an early field goal, but will have difficulty mastering the playbook, although not as much difficulty as Sanchez.

Week 5: After being released by the Patriots, Tim Tebow will still be looking for a new team. Someone will say “All he does is win.”

Week 6: Al Davis’s family will announce that they are moving his corpse to Los Angeles.

Week 7: A player will get arrested for DUI. He will have a frightening mug shot.

Week 8: Fox’s Super Bowl Pregame show will start.

Week 9: After the Redskins upset the previously undefeated Broncos 24-17, there are no remaining unbeaten teams. The 1972 Miami Dolphins will act a bunch of assholes.

Week 10: Scientists at NFL headquarters will transport the Jacksonville Jaguars back in time to 1972 where the Jags will crush the Dolphins 65-0 in what will be known as The Shut The Eff Up Bowl.

Week 11: Although it is a bye week for Dallas, Tony Romo will nevertheless throw a late interception knocking Dallas out of the playoff picture.

Week 12: A Pro Bowl player will be suspended after testing positive for a banned substance. The player will apologize for using gorilla semen salve, claiming that it was prescribed for syphilis.

Week 13: Eli Manning will throw an interception and look dull-eyed and stupid in a slow motion replay.

Week 14: After public outcry, Fox rethinks Bill O’Reilly as Super Bowl play-by-play announcer and replaces him with less offensive Miley Cyrus.

Week 15: Under cover of darkness, the Cleveland Browns will move to Baltimore again. This time, no one cares–expect Baltimore.

Week 16: In a touching halftime ceremony, the Bills retire O.J. Simpson’s prison number. The NFL also announces that no future imprisoned NFL player may ever wear the number again.

Week 17: Ben Roethlisberger will be benched after displaying concussion-like symptoms. After a thorough examination, NFL doctors will clear him to play, concluding that he’s just not that bright.

Week 18: With the Patriots in danger of losing home field advantage in the playoffs, Commissioner Roger Goodell will issue a full pardon to Aaron Hernandez. In a stirring, PCP-fueled performance, Hernandez will score 4 touchdowns to lead the Patriots to a win over Buffalo. Unfortunately, Hernandez’s comeback will end on a bit of downer, as he shoots and mortally wounds Patriots owner Robert Kraft late in the 4th quarter.

Super Bowl: The Patriots will beat Green Bay 31-28 on a last second touchdown pass by Tom Brady. Packer linebacker Clay Matthews will freeze just as he is about to sack Brady to end the game. After the game, Matthews will say: “I had him. Just had him. Then I locked on to those dreamy eyes. I just froze, man. Damn, he’s beautiful.”

These are just the weekly predictions. There are, of course, things that will happen every week. These include the following:

An official will make a questionable call.
Robert Griffin III will hold a press conference to discuss his knee.
Jerry Jones will appear on national television.
Someone will suffer a concussion.
Ray Lewis will be mentioned during the broadcast of the Ravens’ game.
A broadcaster will describe a play in terms that make it sound only slightly less complex than the Moon Landing.
The Cincinnati Bengals will start at least one player with a checkered criminal history.
Rex Ryan will say something just bat-shit crazy.
Al Davis will remain dead.
Chris Berman’s success will continue to baffle Americans.

There you have it. Mark my words. Some or all of this will happen. Maybe.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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Cheerleader God

Ray Lewis shows God His Lombardi Trophy

I’m a big sports fan. Huge, actually. I’ve ruined substantial chunks of my life grieving over sporting events in which I had no stake other than as a fan. None of the players or coaches knew me nor did they care one way or the other about how their pitiable performances affected me. Nevertheless, though, I grieved.

You know who else is a big sports fan? God. That’s right. Capital “G” God. The Big Guy. The Alpha and Omega. The Big I AM. How do I know that about the unknowable? Athletes have told me. Repeatedly.

Ray Lewis says so. God glorified him (or vice versa–sometimes it’s hard to follow Ray) with a Super Bowl win. After the Ravens’ win, Ray said “It’s simple: When God is for you, who can be against you?” That is pretty simple. God is all-powerful, all-knowing and omnipotent. If He’s for you, who CAN be against you? Well, a lot of people, really. The other team, for instance. Their fans. Maybe people who just generally hate your team or you personally. Atheists, too.

Ray’s simple observation begs many questions, of course:

Was God against Colin Kaepernick?
Was God for John, but not Jim, Harbaugh? If so, why?
What did God think of Beyonce?
How about the guy in the suit that John Harbaugh screamed at? What sin did he commit?
What was God’s deal with the Harbaugh parents? For or against?
Why didn’t God see that holding call on Crabtree? Or did He see it but smite the officials with blindness, because he was for Ray?
Is possible that God was on the side of Michael Oher, the guy from the movie The Blind Side, and Ray just benefited from it?
Why did God turn out the lights in the second half?
What kind of God would allow Destiny’s Child to reunite?

If it were just Ray, it wouldn’t be that big a deal. Other athletes are just as bad–or maybe it’s good. Boxers praise God–right after they beat the holy crap out of someone. “Thank you, God, for giving me the strength to inflict permanent brain damage on this other child of yours.” Basketball players do it. Baseball players. Everyone who wins has God on his or her side. Some invoke Jesus, which is really the same thing except with a decidedly Christian take.

That’s right. God picks sides. He’s picked the World Series, Super Bowls, NCAA Championships, fights–you name it. There isn’t enough hard drive in the Cloud to list all the athletes that have credited God for their wins. God plays favorites. No doubt. God is definitely a Calvinist when it comes to sports.

The uncomfortable flip side of this is that God clearly dislikes certain teams and athletes, too, not to mention their fans (like me). This is rarely acknowledged, with one notable exception. Former University of Kentucky football player Stevie Johnson is now a star wide receiver for the Buffalo Bills. A couple of years ago, he dropped a potential game-winning touchdown pass. Just dropped it. Stevie saw the hand of God in it.

Stevie Johnson’s ill-tempered tweet reflected a lot of fans’ thoughts.

Predictably, Stevie took a lot of heat for this. But, if you are a sports fan, haven’t you at least thought this before? Sure you have. Of course, I remember Stevie catching a touchdown pass to beat the University of Louisville. An act of God, for sure.

I’ll confess that I’ve prayed to God about sports. “Oh, mighty God, PLEASE let this free throw drop!!!” Of course, this type of prayer is fruitless, but I’ve done it. My life as a sports fan has proven and disproven the existence of God many times:

Jim O’Brien hits a last-minute field goal. Colts beat the Cowboys in the Super Bowl. No God.
Roger Staubach hits Drew Pearson with the original “Hail Mary” pass in the 1975 NFC Playoffs. God lives!
UCLA beats Kentucky for the 1975 NCAA Basketball Championship. No God.
Six months later, the Reds rally from 3 down to win the 7th game of the World Series. Big God!
Jackie Smith drops a touchdown pass against the Steelers. Cowboys lose the Super Bowl. No God.
Kentucky wins the 1978, 1996, 1998 and 2012 NCAA basketball championships. Big, big, big, big GOD!!
Christian Laettner hits a three to beat Kentucky at the buzzer in the 1992 NCAA Regional Finals. There is a God, and He hates me.
Billy Gillispie is hired as Kentucky’s basketball coach. God hates Kentucky.
John Calipari is hired as Kentucky’s basketball coach. God actually loves Kentucky but has a twisted sense humor (see Gillispie, Billy).
University of Kentucky Football: No God or at least not one that will let us be great at two sports.

I, for one, refuse to blame God for this.

For brevity’s sake, I won’t list the other 200-300 examples. One can readily see that I have struggled to see God’s handiwork in my life as a fan. For others, look no further than this year’s NCAA Football Championship. Notre Dame has Touchdown Jesus, but Alabama whipped them like Samson breaking bad on a bunch of Philistines.

The problem is that for each instance in which I have been crushed by a sporting event, others have felt an equal and opposite reaction. Call it Newton’s Law of God In Sports. He loves one team and hates the other. Okay, maybe He doesn’t hate them. Only if you’re a member of the Westboro Baptist Church do you embrace the hating God. But, at the very least, He’s cruelly indifferent to the other team and its fans.

How does this happen? Do the other fans pray better? Are the players better people? If so, what can I do to help my team? If more of our fans pray will that tip the scales? Or is the quality of the prayers, rather than the quantity, that matters most? It’s hard to say, really.

What about Tim Tebow? By all accounts, he’s a fine young man, sincere in his faith and an all around good guy. He played quarterback for the Denver Broncos in 2011 and won a bunch of games. Now, truth be told, he didn’t play particularly well, completing less than 50% of his passes. Yet, he won or, more accurately, his team won. Many folks attributed this to God. Tebow is a Christian, and God wins games for him. Many of my devoutly Christian friends manically cheered for him, as though he was the first Christian to ever play in the NFL (I don’t think he is, by the way). Then Tebow got traded to the Jets, because the Broncos preferred Peyton Manning at quarterback. Tebow barely played for the Jets and did nothing to help them win–to the extent the Jets did win. Did God turn his back on Tebow? Doubtful. Tebow just ended up on a team that didn’t want to play him. Like Tebow, Danny Wuerffel was also a Heisman Trophy winning quarterback from the University of Florida and a devout Christian. He had no success in the NFL. Why? Because that’s sports, not God.

Now, you’re thinking: “What’s your point?” Here it is: God isn’t picking games. If he did, the parochial schools would never lose, and Bob Knight would have never won a game. God is God, which is a good thing, but one can only hope that He is occupied with more important things than Ray Lewis’s retirement and my desire to see a teenaged college student make a free throw.

I won’t even belabor the obvious such as the horrific injuries–and even death–suffered by athletes. If you’re a sports fan, you can think of an almost endless list of vile humans who have excelled in sports. What about cities like Chicago and Cleveland? What are they–the Sodom and Gomorrah of sports? If God is picking sides, surely he could cut them a break.

So, the next time you think God has picked your team or favorite player, remember that just means He’s back handing someone else. Eventually, He’ll show you the hands, too. Now, don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with praising God. Some believe that He demands it. It’s just that suggesting He won a game makes as much sense as crediting the military for it. After all, we should be thankful for our soldiers, too, but let’s be reasonable.

Okay, now God, UCLA has 11 NCAA basketball titles, and Kentucky has 8. Do you think you could see your way clear to…..never mind.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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Jerry Jones and the Last Crusade

Happy Birthday to Jerry Jones. He turned 70 years old last week.

Jerry Jones owns the Dallas Cowboys. That is to say that he owns part of me, my childhood–my very soul. Too dramatic? Perhaps. A real Cowboys fan will relate.

I am 50 years old. I was 8 when I became a Cowboys fan. Roger Staubach was the hero of my youth. My other sports heroes had feet of clay but not Roger.

This photo adorns my office wall.

I dressed my two oldest sons in Aikman and Emmitt jerseys. My youngest son, too. He even got to meet the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders.

Like many fathers, I lived vicariously through my son.

The Cowboys are like the New York Yankees–loved or hated. If you love them–like I do–you think the rest of the world hates them. If you are a hater, you’re convinced you’re the only one and everyone else loves them. The reality is that few football fans are neutral about them. We Cowboy fans love that. Cowboys haters hate it.

Don Meredith, Roger Staubach, Bob Lilly, Too Tall Jones, Tony Dorsett, Emmitt Smith, Troy Aikman, Deion Sanders, Michael Irvin–all football fans know these names. Cowboys fans know names like Clint Longley (aka The Mad Bomber), D.D. Lewis, Ralph Neely, Jim Jeffcoat, Efren Herrera, Gary Hogeboom, and many, many others.

Everyone knows that Jerry Jones owns the Cowboys. Everyone. We Cowboys fans know that Clint Murchison owned them, too. So did Bum Bright. We curse Bum Bright for his financial distress which caused him to sell the Cowboys to–you guessed it–Jerry Jones!

Jerry Jones fired Tom Landry. I’ll say that slowly. Fired. Tom. Landry. I’ll admit that Coach Landry was at the nadir of his coaching career at the time. But you don’t fire Tom Landry. Jerry did.

Jerry hired Jimmy Johnson as coach. Johnson was Jones’s college teammate at Arkansas and a successful college coach at Oklahoma State and the University of Miami. Through free agency and the infamous Herschel Walker trade, Jerry and Jimmy stockpiled players. They also inherited a young roster with such players as Michael Irvin already in place. Add to that the drafting of Troy Aikman and Emmitt Smith, and the turnaround was quick and dramatic. Johnson’s first year was a disastrous 1-15. Two seasons later, Jerry and Jimmy hoisted the Lombardi Trophy.

Jerry and Jimmy in happier times.

Jerry and Jimmy weren’t geniuses. Yes, they took Troy Aikman with the first pick in the draft. Good move. They also picked Steve Walsh and Russell Maryland No. 1. Walsh, a quarterback from the University of Miami was picked in the Supplemental Draft in 1989, the same year Aikman was picked, making the Cowboys the first team to ever use consecutive No. 1 picks on quarterbacks. They did salvage that pick by trading Walsh to the Saints for draft picks. Piling up draft picks and players rebuilt the Cowboys.

Alas, it is part of Cowboy lore that Jerry and Jimmy couldn’t stand success–at least not together. After winning a second Superbowl, they parted company. Neither was better for the parting.

Somehow, some way, Jerry is now bigger than the Cowboys. How the hell could that happen? Simple. He pushed them to permanent mediocrity. He is the Show. For example, the new Cowboys Stadium is, by most accounts, the most fabulous football stadium on the planet. What do they call it? Jerry World. It’s Jerry’s world, and we just live in it.

To be fair, Jerry had success in Dallas. Great success. Unparalleled success. It only took him six years to win three Super Bowls-more than in the entire history of the franchise. What went wrong? Jerry’s success was the start of his decline:

Jerry is a successful man. Wildly successful. His business judgment is usually spot on. He trusts himself. He applies this to football just as he does to drilling oil. His ideas are the best. Folks like him don’t have much experience with being wrong, and they have a hard time recognizing it when it happens.
The Cowboys’ early success under his ownership convinced Jerry that they were his creation. He famously declared that 500 men could win a Super Bowl with the Cowboys. In the two decades since uttered that famous line, he’s done his best to try to prove that anyone can coach a football team.
Jerry and Jimmy couldn’t co-exist. As men of substantial ego, neither could give the other credit. Each believed himself responsible for the team’s success to the exclusion of the other. That neither had the same success after they parted company shows how wrong they both were.
Barry Switzer: As if to prove that anyone could win with the Cowboys, Jerry hired Barry Switzer to replace Johnson. Switzer was out of football after a long, successful–if controversial–career at the University of Oklahoma and zero professional football experience. In his first two seasons, Switzer took the Cowboys to the NFC Championship game and won a Super Bowl. Unlike most Cowboys fans, I’m not a Switzer detractor. He won a Super Bowl, which is quite an accomplishment. Besides, if I trash Switzer, then I’m agreeing with Jerry that anyone could have won with that team. I will not do that. Also, there is something likable about him. I just liked him. Jerry still holds to the notion that if he builds the right team, anyone can be the coach. Barry proved that.

I don’t know if Barry Switzer was a good coach or not, but he was a wild man. I couldn’t help but like him.

Plan B: There used to be something called “Plan B” free agency in the NFL. Oddly, but as far as I know, there was never a Plan A. Regardless, when Jerry bought the Cowboys, there was no salary cap and teams could, through Plan B, stockpile players. That’s what the Cowboys did. I’m not sure Jerry ever realized that was the key to their success.
Deion Sanders: Deion was Jerry’s free agent prize. He signed Deion, and Deion shined. The Cowboys won their fifth–and last–Super Bowl. Jerry seemed to take this a validation of his generalship. If he ever doubted his abilities, he didn’t after that. Of course, you could point out that signing the greatest defensive back of his era didn’t require any football acumen. You could point that out, but it would be lost on Jerry.

In no area was Jerry’s lack of football genius more apparent than his never-ending quest for a quarterback after Troy Aikman retired:

Rather than retain Randall Cunningham, Jerry reached in the draft to take University of Georgia quarterback Quincy Carter in the second round. No one in the league was going to take Carter that high. He had been inconsistent in his college career and rumors about off-field problems swirled around him.
The Pitchers: Jerry signed not one, but two, baseball players: Drew Henson and Chad Hutchinson. (Actually, it’s three: Carter also played minor league baseball).
Ryan Leaf: After Leaf cemented himself as the worst draft choice in history, where did he end up? Dallas, of course.

We expected a decline under Switzer, and that’s what we got. Undaunted, Jerry hired Chan Gailey and then long-time assistant Dave Campo without success. Desperate again, he hired Bill Parcells who righted the ship with good personnel decisions. Under Parcells, the Cowboys acquired serviceable veteran quarterbacks, Vinnie Testaverde and Drew Bledsoe. It was Parcells who identified undrafted players Tony Romo and Miles Austin. On the other hand, Jerry signed Terrell Owens. Parcells brought the Cowboys back to respectability. Then, as we all knew he would, Parcells quit.

Jerry was sure he’d done it again, this time with Bill Parcells starring as Jimmy Johnson. Anyone could coach the team Parcells put together. To prove that point, Jerry replaced Parcells with Wade Phillips, an affable fellow well-known as an outstanding defensive coordinator and mediocre head coach. The Cowboys were his third head coaching job. He had never won a playoff game as head coach. In Jerry’s world, Jason Garrett would be the offensive coordinator, and good old Wade would take care of the defense. Since Phillips’ hiring in 2008, the Cowboys have gone from 13-3 to a .500 team. Of course, they have played .500 football since they last won the Super Bowl in 1995, so one can reasonably argue that Phillips’s one successful season was just an anomaly.

When Jerry finally gave up on Wade–well after the fans and team had done so–he hired Jason Garrett as head coach. Cowboys fans had expected this move for some time. Jerry is smitten with Garrett. Garrett was a Dallas back up quarterback, best known for a spectacular Thanksgiving Day performance against Green Bay in place of an injured Troy Aikman. More importantly, he’s Jerry’s creation. If he’s a success, he’ll be Jerry’s success.

Garrett was the perfect choice for Jerry. Garrett could be the coach, but Jerry would hire the assistants and find the players. Jerry would be the Man. All Jason had to do is show up and coach. What Garrett got is a team cobbled together by Jerry which does its best to win half its games.

Jerry has achieved one thing that no one in Cowboys’ history could do before. Not Coach Landry when he dumped Danny White in favor of Gary Hogeboom. Not Roger Staubach’s surprise retirement. Not Michael Irvin’s career-ending neck injury. Nor Jackie Smith’s heartbreaking dropped pass in the Superbowl. Not Dwight Clark’s famous catch in 1981 NFC Championship. Not the arrests and scandals during the 1990’s. Now, I just don’t care anymore. Nope. I don’t. I watch the games, but I rarely get excited or even a little agitated. I expect mediocrity and that’s what I get. Week in, week out, every season.

How did Jerry accomplish this? It’s been gradual torture:

The coaching carousel. From Switzer to Gailey to Campo to Parcells to Phillips to Garrett, the Cowboys have no stability on the field. There is no chance to build anything.
Drafting: Jerry the GM has done a horrible job in the draft. He consistently reaches for picks or trades down for no particular reason. Occasionally, they will hit the mark with a Demarco Murray, but that’s countered with Martellus Bennett, Felix Jones, Shontae Carver, Dez Bryant and countless other misses. While other teams draft starters in the late rounds, Jerry fills out the practice squad.
Team building: Like a fantasy football owner, Jerry looks for playmakers. Unfortunately, more mundane positions like offensive and defensive line are ignored. The offensive line now would embarrass a good college team. The defensive line is still made up of players brought in under Parcells. Every season, there is a glaring weakness, unaddressed in either the draft or through free agency.
From Alonzo Spellman to Tank Johnson to Pacman Jones to Terrell Owens, the Cowboys have become a half-way house for troubled players, without regard to team chemistry or productivity.
Jerry seems intent on wanting all the team success to be his. A general manager or strong coach will take that away. That won’t ever change.

Don’t take any of the above to mean that I don’t think Jerry has his strengths. His life story is one of phenomenal success. He is passionate about the Cowboys and will spend any amount of money for their success. He isn’t an owner crippling his team by penny-pinching. He also is one of the leaders of the NFL owners, helping lead the league to unprecedented success. I don’t hate the man. I’m too old now to hate on people over sports. Besides, if I were the owner, I’d act just like him.

Many sports pundits have observed that the best NFL teams have the least intrusive owners. Certainly, that’s true of the Giants, Steelers and Patriots, the three most successful franchises in recent years. Teams like the Raiders, Bengals and Cowboys don’t get over the top. The Cowboys, sadly, have become a glamorous version of the Cincinnati Bengals with their key football decisions made by an ownership with little clue about what needs to be done next. Indeed, Jerry and the Bengals’ Mike Brown are the only owners who also act as their own general managers. Their results are not coincidence.

Jerry turned 70 on October 13, 2012, less than a week ago as a I write this. He’s in the homestretch now of his ownership. I truly believe he will do whatever he thinks it takes to bring a another Super Bowl Trophy to Dallas. His problem is that he is takes advice only from Jerry.

This is Jerry’s last ride, his last crusade. Some Cowboys fans hang all the current woes around Tony Romo’s neck. Be carefully what you ask for. Remember what we had at QB when Jerry was doing to the picking. Does anyone else envision Tim Tebow or Michael Vick wearing the Star?

I suspect that Jerry will tire of Jason Garrett and move on after this season. Never, ever could there be a problem with upper management. The hope–the only hope–for Cowboys fans is that Jerry will go to well once last time for a real coach. Not likely, but we can hope, can’t we?

For me, the question is whether I can regain my old fervor for The Star. Maybe. Then again, I suffered through the decade of the ’80’s without reaching this point, so maybe not. I hope so, but I’ve come to believe that my fandom is just nostalgia now. I also believe in what I call the Curse of the Fedora. Since Tom Landry was fired in 1989, the Cowboys have one exactly one playoff game with a team that didn’t include at least one player who played for Coach Landry. One. Between that and Jerry being Jerry, there is little reason for optimism.

Lest we Cowboys fans think that Jerry will ease into retirement soon, I don’t see that happening. I think he’ll stay right where he is until he can’t function. Besides, he has three children. And they all work for the Cowboys.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2012

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Flaming the Fans

University of Kentucky President Eli Capilouto has banned alcohol in certain tailgating areas for football games. Why? Because a group of drunken idiots got in fights at a recent game. Of course, the idiots are apoplectic about this, because that’s how idiots react.

President Capilouto also banned DJs in those same areas. They may not have anything to do with the fights. Maybe it’s just a nod to good taste.

(Apropos of nothing, I should note that a friend of mine and I always refer to the President as “Doctor Copulate-O.” Oh, how we laugh when we say that)

This recent edict got me thinking about my own history as a fan and various fan personalities. I don’t have much to say about fans acting like fools. My friend, Meisterblogger, wrote an excellent piece on that subject. I have nothing to add to that. It does, however, make me ponder the behavior of fans, behavior in which I have engaged on some level my entire life.

I’m a sports fan. Always have been. When did it start? I can’t really remember, but I know it started with baseball cards. The one I remember best was a 1966 Willie Mays card. For some reason, I loved that card. I kept it under the desktop glass of a desk in our house. I would sit and just look at it. I loved it right up until my little brother managed to get it out from under the glass and tear it in half. It was then replaced by a 1969 Willie Mays, which I kept in my pocket for safekeeping.

I carried the Say Hey Kid in my pocket for years.

I’ve cheered my teams. I’ve screamed myself hoarse. I’ve also cried. Yes, cried. Literally. Who are my teams? At various times, I’ve been fanatic about:

Los Angeles Lakers: I’m not talking about the “Showtime” Lakers of the ’80’s. These were the Lakers of the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. Why? Wilt Chamberlain. Wilt was the first basketball player of whom I was aware. He was bigger than life. Headband; knee pads (on his shins!); tape and rubber bands on his wrists–he had swag before there was swag. In those days, there was only one NBA game a week on TV. The Lakers and Knicks dominated. I remember when the Lakers won 33 games in a row. The starting line-up was Wilt, Jerry West, Gail Goodrich, Happy Hairston and Jim McMillan. Wilt retired, then West, then my interest in the NBA.

There was only one Wilt.

Kentucky Colonels: After Wilt retired, my interest shifted to the American Basketball Association. Kentucky had a team. Dan Issel, Artis Gilmore, Louie Dampier, Darrel Carrier and many others. We rarely got to see them on TV, but I followed their every exploit. The ABA was great. Red, white and blue ball; three pointers; big Afros. I loved it. A couple of times, ABA barnstorming teams came to Harlan and played exhibition games. We’d get Dampier, Carrier and a few other stars. They were great guys. They even let one of our local basketball coaches, John D. Wilson, play in one of the games. Great stuff. When the ABA merged with the NBA, the Colonels folded. THAT was a sad day.

Artis Gilmore was everything cool about the ABA

Cincinnati Reds: When I became a baseball fan, it didn’t take long to become a Reds fan. Everyone in Kentucky was a Reds fan in those days. You didn’t have much choice in the matter. Johnny Bench was my icon. He could do no wrong in my eyes. I followed the Reds as closely as one could during the 1970’s. I listened to the games on the radio. I cut the box scores out of th paper. When they finally won the World Series in 1975, I was as happy as a kid could be . My fandom continued in earnest through the mid-1990’s. I’ll confess that it burned off through a combination of things. One, free agency in baseball took away the concept of “my” team. Rosters change too much and too quickly. Second, I’m one of those who never got his passion back after the 1994 players strike. I still follow it, but I don’t live and die with it.
Dallas Cowboys: From Craig Morton to Tony Romo. Calvin Hill to Demarco Murray; Bob Hayes to Miles Austin; Bob Lilly to DeMarcus Ware, I’ve followed the Cowboys. Roger Staubach was the hero of my youth. I’ve reveled in the salad days of the 1970’s and 1990’s and suffered through the 1980’s and 2000’s. Jerry Jones is the bane of my existence, but I still watch and hope. Mostly, I long for the day when the Jones family dies out.
The University of Kentucky: I save this for last, but it is certainly not least. This is the one where my fandom has not waned. Oh, being older, I’m not as psychotic as I used to be, but I’m still a card-carrying member of Big Blue Nation–basketball and football, of course. I’m a two-time alum, but that doesn’t really matter. You don’t have to be a grad to belong to BBN. Hell, you don’t even have to ever set foot on campus. It’s bigger than that. It IS Kentucky. My obsession with all things UK has evolved, but it has never died.

Against this backdrop, I’ve learned a lot about fans. I am one. Who are they?

THE DRUNK

I’ve been this guy. He shows up at 9:00 a.m. to tailgate for a 7:30 p.m. kickoff. He drinks and drinks and drinks. He’s loud and obnoxious. He freely uses foul language. He’ll insult opposing fans. He’ll insult his friends. He’ll pick fights. He’ll randomly vomit. He watches the game–maybe. It doesn’t matter if he does or not, because he won’t remember it.

Here’s how I used to do it. Show up several hours before kickoff with a grocery bag full of beer. Drink the beer. Wander from the tailgate to tailgate bumming more beer. Watch the football game. Try not to pass out or puke. Drink more.

I would find myself with people I didn’t know. Drinking and cheering. High-fiving and hugging. Once, I was tailgating and a woman asked of me and a friend: “Do you mother****ers wanna dance?” We declined. That’s the crowd we were in.

Drunk Fan isn’t to be confused with his cousin, Drinking Fan, a mostly amiable fellow who occasionally goes over the edge. He’s okay.

Fortunately, the strongest thing I drink these days is coffee. The good news is that I remember all UK’s basketball games. The bad news is that I remember all the football games, too. Nothing is perfect.

THE DEMENTED

This guy believes he’s part of the team. More accurately, he is the team, and the team is him. They are one. WE win. He wears jerseys of his team. He paints his face. He names his kids after players.

If his team wins, this guy is a better person. Not only that, he’s just better in general. Healthier, happier, stronger. Better. He will gloat. He will post things on Facebook like:

Cats win! Yeah, baby, we’re rolling! Suck it, Louisville!

Of course, he can also lose. Losing is crippling. He can’t face the light of day. He won’t read the papers or watch TV, lest he be exposed to the terrible truth of his own failings. Losing makes him a lesser person. Unworthy. Yet, he will tweet this:

U of L fans suck! Chipstrapped losers! Enjoy your one win, because we’re still BIG BLUE!! #UofLblows

The Demented Fan sees each game as a personal triumph or failure. It never dawns on him that he isn’t playing and has no stake in the outcome of games played by others who are not conscious of his existence. Sadly, I’ve been there, too. Why, oh, why, dear God, did they lose??? My cheering, my clothing, my very presence should have made the difference. They did not. I have failed. Life sucks.

THE PSYCHOTIC

He rants. He raves. He yells obscenities. He throws things. He does all of these things just watching on TV. I’ve been that guy, too:

Christian Laettner’s shot hits the bottom of the net to beat UK in the Regional Final. In one seamless motion, I sweep a full ashtray into my hand and hurl it against the fireplace. It shatters into a thousand pieces. A stream of obscenities follow. I can’t sleep for days. It takes 20 years for me to watch a replay of the shot.
Colt Jim O’Brien’s kick splits the uprights to beat the Cowboys in the Super Bowl. I cry.
Remember Dwight Clark’s famous catch against the Dallas Cowboys? The “Catch?” I screamed and fell to my knees.
LSU beat UK on a Hail Mary pass with no time left. I was watching the game at home and drinking. I stepped outside, pick up a basketball and hit it with a baseball bat. Not understanding the immutable laws of physics, I did not know that the bat would fly back, instead of the ball flying forward. The back cracked me in the middle of the forehead. I immediately went into a swoon and puked up about 2 gallons of beer.
North Carolina beats UK in the regional finals. I am so deranged, I don’t know what to do. First, I punch the door. A steel door. Bad move. Then, for reasons I don’t understand, I tore my jeans in half–while wearing them. You know how the Bible talks about people “tearing at their robes?” That was me.
I once spit on the TV screen. By “once” I mean innumerable times.
I have used every foul word and phrase in the English language watching games–even when my team is winning.
In a futile effort to protect our possessions, my wife bought me foam bricks to throw. Not enough heft to them, but I did shred one.

Remember what I said above about fans acting like fools? Burning couches and fistfights are for fools. My actions were acts of passion. Fortunately, I’ve outgrown this behavior–for the most part. Now, my wife acts worse than I do. At least I get to see what an annoying pain in the ass I was.

THE CASUAL FAN

I really have nothing to say about this guy. He is just one step above the contemptible Fair Weather Fan. The Casual Fan only pretends to be a fan. He never loses sleep or acts like a jackass over a game. He doesn’t know the players’ birthdays or their hometowns. He’s a fraud. I’ve never been him, and I won’t be.

I have crawled from top to bottom of the Fan’s Tree of Life. I’m now a passionate–yet mostly normal–fan. I still get agitated and take it too seriously. But, I tell myself that the sun will still come up tomorrow and life is good. I even believe that sometimes.

So, what kind of fan are YOU?

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Captain America’s Team

My earliest memory of being a football fan was a 1969 Craig Morton football card. I was seven years old, and Morton was the quarterback of the Dallas Cowboys. I don’t know why, but I liked that card. It was held in almost as high esteem as my 1969 Willie Mays card, which I carried in my pocket. Because I liked Morton’s card, I also liked the Cowboys. It was that simple. I wouldn’t always like Craig Morton, but I always liked the Cowboys.

The first football game I remember watching was Superbowl V. Dallas v. Baltimore, 1971. It was actually a really crappy game, but I got to see Craig Morton play. I thought that was cool. My Dad watched the game with me and talked about the “other” quarterback for Dallas, a guy named Roger Staubach who had served four years in the Navy. Dad said he was great, so he must be. Understand that my Dad had been a Redskins fan, because the Redskins were broadcast on WLW’s 1,00o,ooo watt signal, and he heard a lot of their games. But if his 8 year old liked the Cowboys, so did he. Plus, Staubach was a military man, which Dad held in high regard. Alas, Dallas lost when a long-haired kicker named Jim O’Brien kicked a last second field goal. I hated that dude. I was crushed by a sporting event for the first of many, many times to come.

I was primed for the 1971 NFL season. Dallas coach Tom Landry devised an ill-conceived rotating quarterback system with Morton and Staubach, but I actually got to see the great Staubach play. As much as a 9 year old kid could decipher, he was as good as Dad advertised. He scrambled, he ran the ball, he threw the ball. By then, I had also become a die hard baseball fan who worshipped at the feet of Johnny Bench. Staubach was the football Johnny Bench.

Eventually Staubach overtook Morton as the Dallas starting quarterback. And the Cowboys won. And won. The Cowboys were back in the Superbowl. I watched every dominating second of Superbowl VI against Miami. Touchdowns by Lance Alworth and Mike Ditka; a 29 yard sack by Bob Lilly; Ditka on an end around; Staubach scrambling; Duane Thomas carrying the ball; Walt Garrison biting his tongue with blood pouring out of his mouth; and Chuck Howley returning an interception only to fall out of bounds when he ran out of steam. Cowboys 24, Dolphins 3. It may say something about my life, but I don’t know if any one event ever made me happier than that game.

If you ever see the NFL Films highlights of that game, watch at the end. When the final seconds are winding down, Craig Morton shakes Coach Landry’s hand and says: “Congratulations, Coach. I’m happy for you.” Morton, who lost his job, was on his way out of Dallas. He didn’t play in the game. He had every reason to resent Landry, but he was happy. I like to think he was a really good guy and worthy of my admiration.

Now, back to Staubach. I never enjoyed watching any athlete as much as I did this man. He led comebacks, he played hurt and he was a genuinely good guy. A lot of folks hate the Cowboys, and–by extension–anyone who played for them. But, you never heard Staubach called a phony or fake. He was married, religious and a straight arrow. If he had feet of clay, he never showed them.

I am over 50 years old, and I don’t remember a lot of details of my childhood, but I remember these things like yesterday:

Four Staubach Superbowls
1972 Playoffs. Cowboys down 12 to the 49ers with 90 seconds to go. Cowboys win.
1975 Playoffs. Cowboys down 14-10 to the Vikings less than a minute to go. No timeouts. Staubach heaves a pass for the end zone. Drew Pearson catches it at the 5 and walks in for the score. (Vikings fans: Yes, Pearson pushed Nate Wright). Staubach said he threw the ball and “said a Hail Mary.” Thus, the Hail Mary pass was born.
Jackie Smith dropping a TD pass in the end zone in the Superbowl, and Staubach screaming. But not as loudly as I did.
1979 vs. the Redskins. Staubach leads multiple comebacks for a Cowboys win in the best game I’ve ever seen.

Staubach retired in 1979 after multiple concussions. I was a teenager by then and too cool to be crushed by such things, but I was. I’ve remained a football fan. As painful as it is today, I’m still a Cowboys fan, but nothing compares to a kid hero-worshipping his favorite player. I lived and died with his exploits.

It was in the those days that the Cowboys became known as America’s Team, thanks to NFL Films. I never thought of them as that. They were Staubach’s team, and he was Captain America. He is over 70 years old now, which makes me feel at least that old to think about it. He’s still Mr. Cowboy, beloved in Dallas. I think he’s still a nice guy, but I don’t really know. Thanks to modern technology, and I can go on the Internet and watch him play any time I want. I get to be a kid again. And that is definitely cool. Thanks, Captain America.

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