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Lessons from an Aging Sports Fan
Note: I wrote this for LinkedIn and shared it on my newsletter there, but why cheat you?
This morning my friend and fellow Adjust U executive Jonathan Rice congratulated me on the unlikely, exciting win of the Dallas Cowboys over their hated rivals, the Philadelphia Eagles yesterday. It was a glorious victory and one I would have, at one time, celebrated with great fervor. Alas, I barely felt this win. It was nice and all but didn’t change much about my day, my appetite, or the direction of my life.
🏟️ The Fervor of the Youthful Fan
The Dallas Cowboys were born in 1960. One year later, I was born. We grew up together, the Cowboys and me. When I was very young, two of my uncles would drill me on Cowboys trivia. Each year, when the team photo was made, one of them would secure a copy for me. On Thanksgiving, when we were all together at one house or another, an uncle would call out the jersey number and I would tell him which player wore that number.
My passion ran deep and soon spread to other sports and local teams, beginning with the Texas Rangers in the early 1970s. I added the San Antonio Spurs to the mix but in 1980, Dallas landed a franchise and for the first time in my life, I switched teams and became a Mavericks fan. Then, the Stars came down from Minnesota, and I learned the game of hockey well enough to cheer them on.
But it all started and ended with my beloved Cowboys.
I was fortunate to be a fan of a team that enjoyed early and consistent success. In the 1960s, the fledgling team came of age and steadily pushed toward the ultimate prize. They played in iconic games like the Ice Bowl against the Green Bay Packers. By the 1970s, they were ready to go for the ultimate prize. In that heady decade, that coming-of-age time of my life, they competed in eight conference championships and five Super Bowls, winning the Super Bowl twice. In the early 80s, they went to three straight conference championship games, but fell short of the Super Bowl each time. Then, the success waned at last as Coach Tom Landry aged.
Then along came Jones—Jerry Jones. And Jimmy Johnson. And Troy Aikman, Emmitt Smith, and Michael Irvin. And three Super Bowl championships in four years. By that time, I was well into my career as a minister and church pastor, but no less fervent in my enthusiasm.
One deacon joked, “If the Cowboys kick off at Noon, I can even beat the Catholics to lunch.”
I think he was joking.
How many of my Sundays were made or lost based on the fortunes of my team, I cannot say. Too many.
📉 The Long, Slow Tumble into Mediocrity
So devoted was I to my football—and specifically, Dallas Cowboys—mania that in the early nineties, I launched a Cowboys blog that at one time ranked as a top-50 NFL blog. I went to work writing on a stipend, covering the Cowboys for Bleacher Report. It was heady times as I scored interviews with legendary figures like Roger Staubach, Randy White, Jimmy Johnson, Emmitt Smith, and scores of others.
But the Champion Ship had become a leaky vessel. After winning the Super Bowl in 1995, the Cowboys began a long, slow tumble into mediocrity. America’s Team was all flash-and-dash and diamond-studded losers. Jones was Jonesing for the spotlight, determined to prove he was a “football man” and that he could win a Super Bowl without someone like Jimmy Johnson at the helm.
He couldn’t.
All that good fortune in my youth had turned to an epically long run of bad management, bad teams, and even when there was a good team, bad luck.
It became so bleak and I became so dour, I gave up the blog and my stint as a sportswriter came to an inglorious end. I was passionate but weary of living and dying in someone else’s jersey.
đź’ˇ The Flat Tire and the New View
As I am now in my sixth decade on earth and well into my fifth decade of sports fandom, I feel I have at last gained some level of equilibrium.
It all started last year when I read about a man whose life was defined by his devotion to his football team. He was buried in a team jersey and assorted team memorabilia was put into the coffin with him. The table arranged to celebrate his life in notes and photographs was largely dominated by his fandom—or fanaticism, if you prefer.
I thought how sad it was that no one on that team he so cherished knew he had died—or that he had ever lived.
The images and that thought stuck in my brain like a burr in a saddle. I looked back on how many times my mood had been defined by the fortunes of a group of men I did not know—men who didn’t know me from a meter reader. I asked myself why their success or failure on a football field impacted me on any level.
Why???
If they win, my light bill is still what it is and none of them are paying it. If they lose, I still have the unspeakable joy of being the father of three incredible humans and grandfather to four more.
If I have a flat, will Jerry know? If a deal falls through for me, will he care? If I enjoy a great victory at work, will he celebrate? I can see his kingdom from my office. Can he see me? If he could, would he?
I have been gaining a new perspective and it has been a long time coming because, even though I am in the business of education, I can be a stubborn, slow learner.
It was not until last season that I said to myself during an exceptionally painful game to watch, where the Cowboys were floundering and losing and looking like Ned in the First Reader seeing a football for the first time that I said to myself, “Gene, they have to suffer through this until the final gun. You don’t. You don’t have to watch them suck.”
I can’t explain it but every sport fan knows it. You feel disloyal if you don’t hang in there until the bitter end. I have shed that feeling and I cannot describe the liberation. Turns out, those chains were invisible, psychological, and unhealthy.
I have enough disappointment to sort through without borrowing from Jerry Jones.
So, here is my new perspective. Do with it as you please.
Be a sports fan…or a music fan…or a fan of muscle cars…or, you name it. Like who you want and what you want for whatever reason you choose. It’s fun to celebrate the victories of others and to suffer with them in their losses.
Passion is a sign of life, so suffer the losses and celebrate the victories—with perspective.
Be ok with walking away. If you are suffering more stress than joy, find something to enjoy—where you have the power to impact the outcome.
Be more than a spectator. Don’t die wearing someone else’s jersey!
Keep in mind, when the losses hurt less, the victories feel less significant, too. When Jonathan congratulated me on the Cowboys’ heroic comeback yesterday, I remembered all the times that would have been something that buoyed me for days. I hardly felt it at all, the same way the disappointing losses have disappointed me less and less.
It’s ok to be a fair-weather fan. The rules are yours to make up and live by when it comes to supporting a team or a band or whatever. But remember to always be a foul-weather friend. Don’t abandon others who are counting on you.
Unless it’s Jerry Jones. (Just kidding. No, I’m not.)
This is my perspective, and it is evolving.
What is yours? Let me have it in the comment section. I can take it.
Go Cowboys!
