Yep, still more sports content.
Oh, and very long.
I was thinking about a few things early this morning, post-Sharks loss, that I ended up repeating to someone in the Sharks LJ community, that I thought about writing here, so I guess I'll finally get to that. The discussion started after I misunderstood one of her posts and commented--her response to my reply was totally unexpected, so I ended up having one of those foot-in-mouth moments after the fact.
ANYway.
So, the Sharks lost again last night, and it was pretty miserable. They played like shit, there was no real effort involved, and they basically rolled over and let Calgary spank the shit out of them. So much for Ron Wilson's 'expect another game like game one' theory. Game 1's loss was hard, but they played really well, and still lost it--what can you do? Last night was just an embarrassment.
We got to talking about having taken the loss really hard, which prompted me to bring up what I'd thought about this morning.
I have this theory about fans and how they deal with team's losses, you see. It's...well. As I've mentioned here before, I grew up a Utah Jazz fan. The year we got there was the year they started making the playoffs and didn't stop until this season. I don't know if it's an NBA record for consecutive playoff appearances, but it's close. It's a franchise record, certainly.
Every season, though, they got punted out early. Every season it was an exit in the quarters, or the semis, or even the conference finals. Each year, it was like a kick to the gut, especially those years where they came *so close*, but still managed to lose before getting to the NBA finals. The closer they got, the harder the punch.
And then...then came the first year that they finally made it. I watched the game, I watched Stockton's 3-pointer in Houston, I watched as he leapt into the air, as his teammates mobbed him, and oh my god, that feeling. That indescribable high that every sports fan knows when their team does well. They'd finally made it!
Twice, they made the finals--that year, and the year following.
Both times, they lost to the Bulls, and as high as that high had been, that's how low the losses felt. That's how hard that sucker-punch to the gut hit. The game where they were utterly humiliated, losing by some 30 points, it was just...god. I've never been one to get 'can't get out of bed' depressed over sports, but that one left a sick feeling in my stomach.
(Yeah, I have a point. Yeah, I'm getting there.)
Why did we get to talking about this? Well...
I have this theory. I think that, when your team is a team without a lot of expectations, who go out there and play even though they're really bad, who don't or can't or won't make much of themselves, who consistently put together shitty seasons year after year, it's almost easier to cheer for them. When they win, it's great, but you may never get that absolutely elated type feeling. When they lose...sure, it might sting if it's a particularly bad loss, and while you might hope that they'll pull themselves together and do it better, I think the realism sort of sets in. The bar's not very high, there's no huge standard for them to live up to, so they lose, and you move on.
With teams that consistently do well, it's harder. Like, for example, the Sharks this year. *No one* expected them to do as well as they did through the season and into the playoffs, not even the players themselves, I don't think. They didn't start off on a good foot, either--they started off where the previous season had left off, so that still left us (me) in that mode mentioned above. But then, they went on a tear, and they pretty much *stayed* on a tear through the rest of the year. They posted a franchise record in points. At least half their players had career-tying or record-setting highs in various statistics. In short, they put together an excellent season, when all was said and done, and earned themselves the second of eight seeds in the conference.
Then, the playoffs rolled around. They pretty much steamrolled St. Louis, and though the Avs put them into a bit of a tailspin, they still managed to conquer *those* demons and finally...finally, they got themselves a berth in the conference finals, for the first time ever.
Now, of course, the expectations are higher--they need four wins in order to get to the finals and play for the Stanley Cup. Four. They need sixteen to win the whole enchilada, and with eight, they're halfway there. This is not to say that it's *easy*--it's not, the Cup is probably the hardest championship in sports to win. I'm not trying to take anything away from football or basketball, but seriously, think about it. Basketball players don't bang each other around like hockey players do, and football players don't play a best of seven series.
So now what? Well. As fans, and maybe even from the player perspective, the bar has been raised. They've done so well so far, what the hell happened in the last game? Sunday's loss sucked, but they worked their asses off and got beaten on a mistake. Everyone knew that was going to happen, that it would be one team making a mistake, and the other capitalizing on that mistake. Last night? What kind of crap was that? It's that same, lingering, sick-to-my-stomach feeling I had when the Jazz had their asses spanked til they were cherry red by the Bulls.
So, yeah. That's my theory. It's sometimes harder to be a fan of the teams that are such high achievers, because it's just that much more devastating (for lack of a better word) when they lose. If they always lose, well...you sort of expect it. But when they do as well as the Sharks have done, and you expect, and you hope, and (some of) you pray that they win, and they don't...that's hard.
And yet, we still watch, and we still hope, and we still pray, and we still cling desperately to the belief that our boys can do it.
Why?
Because we're fans, and that's what being a fan is all about.
Posted by Liz at May 12, 2004 09:41 AM