Misery?

It's hard to know how to feel after a game like the one against the Cardinals on Sunday. On the one hand, it sucked, obviously, to lose, and the first half felt like the Bataan Death March combined with every one of the Saw movies and an episode of The Benny Hill Show. It was a miserable experience that warped and deformed all who were forced to witness it, and in the end all any of us could do was laugh and run around, chasing scantily clad women in fast motion and rubbing the head of old bald British dudes. Okay, so maybe it wasn't exactly like The Benny Hill Show, but what the hell, there were tears and there was laughter so close enough.

On the other hand, the second half was exactly the sort of thing that all of us needed to see. After an extended excursion into the terrible jungles of failure, the second half finally saw us emerge, led by none other than the Lizard King, Cinnabon, Lord of the Apes, Ernie Sims along with his cohort, the Prince of (insert goofy nickname here), Louis Delmas. It was awesome to see those dudes, along with the rest of the defense, decide fuck this horseshit, and then proceed to wreck the Cardinals throughout the third quarter. The fans loved it - oh man, did they love it - and the team looked completely different. They looked confident and focused and desperate to win. Perhaps Gunther Cunningham powerbombed a midget at halftime or Jim Schwartz threatened to kill a box full of puppies, I don't know, but whatever they did worked, because those dudes looked liked dudes that I could be proud of.

Unfortunately, you still need a quarterback to win, and, well . . . yeah, about that. Daunte Culpepper has finally been mercifully executed - let's hope so anyway - and it wasn't like one of those executions where everyone kinda feels bad for the dude up there getting his head chopped off and all the villagers are praying for his soul and screaming mercy or anything like that. No, this was one of those executions where the villagers were all spitting on the poor fool, screaming obscenities and then cheering wildly when his head was lopped off and then tossed into the crowd to be used as a soccer ball by the village children.

Everyone was happy to see Daunte benched. At least, I hope so. I mean, there could probably still be some idiot hold out screaming that we need to give Culpepper a better chance, to remember 2004 like it was the fucking Alamo and other assorted dumb bullshit. It's possible someone like this exists in a world where there are a growing number of people who think we should trade Calvin Johnson so we can move up one spot in the draft. But that is another maddening and ridiculous topic for another day. All I will say for now is that people are humongous idiots, and so I'm sure there were a few people bemoaning the fate of the poor misunderstood Sex Boat Captain.

But the sad reality is that Culpepper's replacement, Ol' Plucky, Drew Stanton, well, uh . . . well, he sucks. His arm is astoundingly weak - whenever he has to throw to a receiver on an out route, it is almost painful to watch. Every one looks like a potential pick six. That would be tolerable - mildly anyway - if he proved to be a good game manager, but he isn't that either. Instead, he thinks he's a play maker, and that results in retarded throws that are intercepted and scrambles that go nowhere and pain, terrible pain. Look, I know that most Lions fans love Ol' Plucky, and while he may be a fantastic grit merchant, he's not much of a quarterback. The comeback in the second half was all defense and field position, along with one gigantic run by Maurice Morris, who dare I say it, was kinda sorta awesome.

Indeed, Morris was the offense for the Lions on Sunday, and for a large chunk of the second half I just kept thinking we could win this game if we only had a quarterback. Sadly, we did not. The good news is that we do have one, ready and waiting. The bad news is that he is currently living in a plastic bubble, guarded by ninja monks with bazookas and pit bulls with venomous snakes for teeth. He's sealed up and we likely won't be seeing him until next season, which means that we have to sit here and watch either the Sex Boat Captain or Ol' Plucky try to win games for us, which, uh . . . I hope you were watching on Sunday. Thankfully, none of that should matter next year. It just means we have to get through the next two games without engaging in mass suicide.

I am so happy with the way that the team performed in the second half. I don't get a chance to say that often, but when I do get that chance, I will say it. I am not all mass hangings and drain cleaner chugging, after all. There are those that may be too dull to realize this, and may get caught up in the ridiculous imagery of it all but what the hell, the world is full of idiots and all the rest of us can do is stand above them with torches and keep them at bay for as long as we can. That is, after all, the heart of what being a Lions fan is all about - just trying to stand above the fray and keeping the failure of it all from overwhelming you. Sometimes it is ugly and sometimes it is mean and sometimes it is utterly ridiculous, but it's also real.

I love the Lions. I love watching them, I love reading about them, and I love writing about them. That may be completely mystifying to some people, but who gives a shit? You are missing out on the point of it all, which is that when my team does win, it means something to me in a way that you can't quite understand, because while you may show up for a game and cheer when the team is winning, and then disappear for the rest of the week, I show up when the team is losing, and I don't stop caring when the clock hits zero. I show up when all you can do is hope and pray that it might get better one day. I have been to hell. It sucks. But I also know that the only way I will ever appreciate heaven is to know what hell feels like. Perhaps that is too faux-philosophical, and really, it's kind of clichéd, and I generally hate clichés, and I am really, really considering deleting all of this gibberish as it feels entirely too corny and ridiculous, but what the hell, let's dive all the way to the bottom of this rancid pool. There are some people who will never understand why we follow the Lions, why we care the way we do, but you know what? Fuck them. We are champions in our hearts and the world will know us before it is all said and done. That is good enough for me.

Anyway, this post has kind of had a more stream of consciousness feel to it than I expected - or than I normally like. It kinda feels all over the place, but I suppose that is appropriate in this strange, schizophrenic season, and it feels especially appropriate in the wake of what was an incredibly schizophrenic game. It was a game filled with the highest highs and the lowest lows. It was a beautiful game and it was also incredibly ugly. It made me wonder why I was a fan of any of this bullshit and it reminded me of why I somehow love it all. It was the failure of the past and it was the promise of the future. It was the Detroit Lions, and in the end it was 2-12, but for now anyway, it doesn't feel quite so terrible.