Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Arizona Sports = Suffering


            I am a masochist. No, I'm not referring to the definition that refers to the enjoyment of being sexually dominated. That would probably make for a much more interesting blog. I'm thinking more along the lines of getting some sort of sick pleasure from pain. At least, that's the only way that I can justify my love for Arizona sports. I grew up in the Arizona desert and have remained fiercely loyal to the Diamondbacks, the Cardinals, and especially the Suns. I'd mention the Coyotes but since I follow  hockey about as enthusiastically as I follow croquet, hot dog eating contests, and the pattern of bird migration, I'll avoid them.

            For as long as I can remember, I have been emotionally bruised, battered, and beaten by expectations that haven't been met by my sports teams. Maybe I'm setting the bar too high, thinking that they can compete with the big market clubs that have seemingly infinite budgets. But, then again, what's the point of dreaming if you're not going to dream big?

            I never grew up much of a football fan. I tried to figure this out for a long time and finally came to the conclusion that the Cardinals were to blame. From the time that I was born to the year that I moved to Utah, the Arizona Cardinals went a terrible 80-144. In those 14 seasons, they lost almost twice as many games as they won. That's so bad it's almost impressive. When I moved to Utah, my new friends thought (and maybe they were right) that I was a complete loser because I didn't enjoy football. Here's the difference between me and them. Utah doesn't have a professional football team. So, they got the luxery of choosing to watch and root for whatever team they wanted to. Me? I was stuck with the Cardinals. No wonder I wasn't a football fanatic as a kid.

            The Diamondbacks broke my heart in a different way. I liked to play baseball as a kid. So, I was thrilled when it was announced that Arizona would be getting a baseball team. I think that their inagural season was in 1998 so I got to hit a few games with my dad before we moved to Utah. They were new, and almost immediately were more successful than their football counterparts. The 2001 season was particularly memorable. Randy Johnson and Curt Schilling formed the two headed monster at the top of the pitching rotation. The middle of the lineup was anchored by Matt Williams and Luis Gonzales. This was a fun team to watch. In August of that year, my family moved to Utah. I went from watching games in the stadium and on TV to reading box scores in the newspaper. Two months later, the Diamondbacks made the playoffs and ended up beating the Yankees in the World Series on a bases loaded bloop single against arguably the most dominant closer of all time. So why would this break my heart? I was ecstatic, don't get me wrong. But while all of my Arizona friends were celebrating the World Series win in person, I celebrated alone. Probably in the middle of my first snowstorm.

            Anyone who knows me knows that I live and breathe Phoenix Suns basketball. As a little kid, I dreamed of growing up to be like Kevin Johnson or a slightly skinnier version of Charles Barkley. I've always loved the Suns but resigning Steve Nash in 2004 created a whole new obsession. In the years soon after, the Suns had built a team that included a young and explosive Amare Stoudemire, Shawn Marion, Joe Johnson and Steve Nash as the core. This team should have been a dynasty. I'm sure that if they were the Boston Celtics or Los Angeles Lakers, it would have been. Steve Nash implemented a system that revolutionized basketball. He brought back the fast paced, frenetic tempo that so many teams are playing with now. Phoenix Suns basketball was exciting, fluid, and extremely competitive. If it weren't for the San Antonio Spurs and David Stern, the Suns would have multiple banners hanging from the rafters. Instead, years later, not a single person remains from the Steve Nash era. No titles and no trips to the finals. What was once a Ferrari is now a beat up Honda Civic thanks to inept management.

            None of this really has much of a point other than me trying to somehow convince myself that it's okay to keep rooting for teams that have no chance of competing, much less winning it all. I'll keep rooting for terrible teams because that's what I'm used to. And until the day comes where championship banners are being hoisted, I guess I'll keep enjoying the pain.

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