Oops.
*It’s difficult to be a fan of the Mets and Cowboys. The Monday after the Giants beat the Cowboys on the last day of the regular season, I caught cracks from most of my students - even the ones whose favorite times play their home games in such locales as Carolina, Tennessee, and Oakland. That’s just the nature of pouring your heart and soul and time and energy into the support of a sports team: you can bask in the glory of success, but you have to eat the failure, too.
That’s why it’s been so rewarding that many of those students are fans of teams who have already been eliminated from the playoffs (Steelers, Broncos, etc.). I’ve been able to ask such questions as “Hey, wait, isn’t Tim Tebow going to watch the Super Bowl from the same place as Tony Romo?” (The answer is: Yes, the couch) Today, though, I got to unleash the best one on a student/49er fan who has been quietly assailing the Cowboys all season.
I walked up to him and said, “Hey, there’s a box for you in the main office.” “A box?” he asked. “Yeah, I think it’s your Kyle Williams jersey.” He took one step, then his head dropped. If you’re asking me if that made me feel good, then the answer is yes. He looked up – with obvious pain in his eyes – and nodded his head. “That was a good one, mister.” Something, something, something about enjoying the suffering of others. Okay, I’m guilty.
Generally, it isn't a good thing if the other team is celebrating your field goal attempt.
*Both of yesterday’s NFL Conference Championship games were punctuated by misses and mistakes. That’s how close both games were. As sports fan with no real rooting interest, that’s about all you can ask for. I’ve already come across a few dejected students who have taken up the rite of inserting the f-word as new middle names for Kyle Williams (#10, above) and Billy Cundiff (#7, above) and while I have enjoyed increasing their overall torment with a few choice words, I am able to do so in part because I know that’s just how sports are.
I’ve said it before. In my own opinion, you never truly become a fan of a sports team until they unequivocally break your heart. Aaron Boone did it to my brother in 2003. The Mets did it to me in 2006, 2007, and 2008. I’ve also seen it mentioned by a sports writer (whose name I can’t remember) that it feels like part of loving a sports team is hating half of everything they do, both on the field and off of it. It’s true. My hatred of the Mets is intense, but my love of them holds majority ownership at something like 56%. That number is slipping by the day.
This makes me want to maul and eat a zebra with my bare hands and no utensils.
*But I can handle any kind of ribbing thrown my way in regards to the Mets and Cowboys because that’s what being a true fan means. I jumped on the Cowboys bandwagon in the early-mid 90s and have been aboard ever since. It’s been pointed out to me on more than one occasion that both TJ Yates and Tim Tebow have the same amount of playoff wins as Tony Romo (1). If guys want to take a dump on me because my team took a dump on me, fine. I can only hold onto the hope that one day my teams will rise from wallowing in their own excrement and win a championship.
I can’t handle those guys who talk trash but jump from team-to-team like barhopping on their 21st birthday. How can you have two favorite teams? If someone changes their allegiance like a mercenary, I can’t respect that. One of my friends posted a comment on Twitter that ran along the lines of “It’s hilarious to hear Heat fans hate on Lakers fans, because c’mon, you weren’t Heat fans three years ago.” (Sorry, Floyd, if I screwed that up).
It’s true. The Mets have made me more miserable than anything someone’s supposed to enjoy should. But damn it, they’re my team. This season, the Cowboys have been even more frustrating because A) do occasionally mix in some brilliance, and B) they actually had a shot at the playoffs before deciding to spend that shot on their own collective feet. I’ve been looking for a Cowboys sticker to place on my car next to my Mets sticker. All I want is the white/navy star, no text. Sometimes when I imagine what my car would look like with my Mets license plate holder, Mets sticker, and Cowboys sticker, I think an other sports fan might drive near me on the road and think “This guy only likes losers!” or the more direct “Loser!” But that’s okay. The hope is always that in time, someone will see those same logos on my car and say “Front runner!”
