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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