Monstrous in the Midway

Between the ages of about 13 and 20, I was heavily into sports, but in situations where there was a very distinct outcome I wanted, I couldn't watch the games. Crazily superstitious, I fled the room late in close contests, thinking that my presence in front of the television was causing, say, the Utah Jazz to beat the Bulls. It was this superstition that allowed me to miss Steve Kerr's game-winning jumper in 1997 (I would run back into the room upon hearing my dad yell), and I'm pretty sure Jordan's shot the following year as well. I couldn't watch in 1998 when the Cubs played the Braves in the playoffs (though they lost all three games anyway), and couldn't take the Devils' playoff appearances either (though in 2000 I was in Atlanta when they won and missed the game entirely). I would do the same thing in the NCAA tournament when I was really hoping for an upset.

About the same time that the Cubs were making their run at the division in 2003, I decided that these childhood superstitions were pretty ridiculous. As many as 2,000 miles from the action (in the case of 1998's Game Six), I was certainly not affecting the outcome. How could I be? So I started watching everything where I had a real stake, in playoff situations, anyway. (So far that's only involved the 2003 NLDS and NLCS, today's Bears game, and various NCAA tournament games, plus that time I listened to the entirety of Man City's Carling Cup game against Doncaster.) My rationale was this: my presence was not affecting the game. I mean, what - I leave the room and the players suddenly go, "Flax is gone! Time to start trying to win!" That's just silly. And at the same time, how could I appreciate the winning if I didn't actually see it? It's like losing your virginity through a hole in a wall, then later finding out it was with the girl you had a crush on. Sure, maybe you enjoy it in retrospect, but does it really feel the same? (Note: This ridiculous simile brought to you by the Bill Simmons School of Sports Journalism.)

To me, it seemed like no contest. If I were going to consider myself a true sports fan, I had to be able to sit down and watch when my teams were playing in tough spots. Otherwise, not only could I not claim as strong a tie to the winning, but I couldn't even claim as strong a tie to the team in general (because if you flee when they're losing, what does that say about you? It's like being a bandwagon fan except for the part where you start rooting for the Yankees). So during the 2003 playoffs, I sat down and watched everything. Every pitch, except for one game that I think I was a little late for (but I still only missed an out or two). And for a series and a half, it worked. The Cubs held off the Braves in five and took a 3-1 lead on the Marlins.

Then, of course, it all came crashing down. The me of old would have fled the room at some point in that infamous eighth inning; the new me watched until the final pitch of the ninth had been thrown, and did the same thing for Game Seven. And you know what? It SUCKED. But there was something inside me that said I was at least a true Cubs fan now. My dad had suffered through 1969 and 1984; I was alive for the latter but far too young to understand it or remember. Finally, I had earned some of the pain.

But that didn't make it any less annoying. And the problem was, the hits kept on coming. Any time I sat down to watch a potential upset in the NCAA tournament, it seemed like it would fail to happen. In 2004, two full regions had the top eight seeds win on day one; the only double-digit winners were Pacific and Manhattan, two "upsets" so obvious I had picked them both, and Nevada (of course beating Michigan State, still my #1 team in the tournament since Northwestern is not likely ever to earn a bid). This, of course, was the year where I had decided to sit down and watch all day on Thursday and Friday. Coincidence? Probably. I saw the end of Bucknell's win over Kansas last year, the very end of Vermont over Syracuse (ruined by CBS' refusal to cut, however), West Virginia taking down Wake. Still, the NCAA tournament is the least of my concerns on this count. And of course, readers of my soccer blog (of whom there are none) will know the disaster that became of Man City/Doncaster.

Today's Bears game had to be the icing on the cake, however. Before I even had a chance to sit down, the Panthers had scored, and though the Bears offense was shockingly effective once Grossman settled down, they never managed to catch up. The defense, so highly touted, looked absolutely miserable. Apparently someone replaced most of the Bears team with players from Northwestern today; it was that bad of a display. 434 yards allowed on offense; 29 points (more than any game except the Vikings loss in Week 17, which shouldn't count); 244 offensive yards to Steve Smith (in other words, more than half the Panthers' output). Continuing a trend started against Green Bay in Week 16, the defense couldn't tackle worth a damn, and had the Panther D not given away so many penalties, the offense probably would have struggled more than it did. The only turnover the Bears got (Urlacher's INT) was not converted, and they erased much of the momentum gained from their late TD in the first half by allowing the Panthers to quickly drive back into field goal range. Had the score been just 13-7 at the half and the Bears opened the second with a scoring drive (as they did), maybe things would have gone differently. (By which I mean, the Bears would only have lost 26-21, since it didn't seem like they were capable of stopping Carolina either way.)

I didn't see every last second of the game, but certainly I saw the vast majority of it, carrying on a conversation with my dad the whole time via IM that consisted mostly of grousing about the defense's horrible play and celebrating the occasional good play. Grossman finished 17-for-41, which is not good at all, but this wasn't helped by his starting 2-for-9 in the first quarter; the 15-for-32 after that is much more serviceable. Berrian looked amazing, also; still, there seemed to be far too much throwing, especially early (27 rushes and 41 pass attempts, from this team? Even playing from behind in the second half, that's odd). If this team can add a little more speed (and talent in general) in the secondary, they should be looking pretty good next year (of course, this assumes that Grossman can stay healthy, knock heavily on wood), especially since the rest of the division is solidly mediocre in general.

So once again I actually watched as one of my teams went to the mat in a big spot, and once again I have absolutely nothing to show for it. I don't think I can go back now, though - the losses hurt, but there has to be a light at the end of one of the tunnels eventually, doesn't there? And at least I'm earning my sports fan stripes to a degree - I always hate people who root for perennial winners, after all, whether they have a good reason or not (though of course it's much worse if they're the "I started following college basketball in the early 1990s, so I decided to root for Duke because they were winning" type rather than the "I grew up in the Bronx" or "I went to Notre Dame" type). As I've said before in this space, I think you can only truly appreciate the winning if you have some experience with the losing first. (Just like how I only got to see the Devils win after I suffered through the '94 playoffs.) Maybe that's where the karma comes in. Hopefully suffering through disappointing losses (and further disappointing seasons) by the Cubs and Bears eventually leads to something good. But for now... it sucks.