(I asked longtime friend of the blog, lowfashionlover, and i do mean longtime, to write something for me so I could put it up here for all of you. This is an art's collective, and let's face, the Detroit Lions inspire a lot of angst-ridden art. This blog is a voice for us all, and together, we'll all get through this.)
Fantasy has become closely intertwined with football over the past
decade. Apart from the ubiquitous game played by bourgeoning gambling addicts
and the topic of conversation of the dullest type of fan, fantasy is woven into
the very fabric of the sport itself. We watch a spectacle in which men
walk into a pup tent with a trainer table and are declared to have no
indication of concussion despite minutes earlier having 300 pounds of weight
slammed into their head at the speed of a low impact car crash. We believe that
these men are justifiably compensated for the physical and emotional torture
that football forces upon them. We form an identity connection with teams whose
only value to owners and 'the shield' is in terms of asset value. We
believe that this is America's game, the logo is an American flag after all,
and the naked capitalism, plutocracy, destruction of young, mostly black, men
and a governing body dictated to by the all powerful and reviled 'owners' are just the way things are. As the game churns
through players and renews itself through a draft, we believe things will be
better, that this will be the year our team improves and becomes respected, for
we are the protagonist in this great narrative. They can work hard and
overcome, and good things come to those that wait. This game is America, and
the appeal is rooted in fantasy.
Being a fan of the Detroit Lions is awful. Our humor is dark, and
our pride is suffering. We never win, not in any meaningful way and we suspect
our heroes have contempt for the organization. To believe that any joy will
come is as pure an act of fantasy you will find in football. As fans we talk
about how we'd travel any distance to see the Lions in a superbowl. We can
imagine the feeling of winning, of how wonderful it would be. To no longer be a
joke. To have friends and colleagues feign some small talk about that football
team you like and say 'you must be happy' and we get to say, 'yes, the Lions
have made me happy.' That's all we ask. There are popular t-shirts at Lions
games with the Lombardi trophy and the phrase 'just one before I die' printed
on the front. I would feel the same fatalistic way if you replaced the trophy
with a playoff victory or a division title. We, or more likely, the sport, will
die before any of these measures of success will be achieved. The fantasy
though, remains.
The fantasy for Lions fans was potent going into week one. Sure
the preseason was a cavalcade of incompetence, but these were merely pretend
games. Bluffing with the ante on the table. There was a new head coach, whose
credentials themselves were confabulated by the poisonous thinking that the
Patriots are a model organization rather than a collection of sick
personalities and dumb luck. But we believed the fantasy, perhaps Matt Patricia
was a football genius with the schematic power to transform a bottom of the
barrel defense into inspired football men that didn't need an extra step
because they never wasted one. We believed that Bob Quinn was not a vindictive,
mistake prone, over his head masshole that treated players as transactions and
had no focus or clear strategy. He was to deliver competence and
professionalism. We believed Matt Stafford was an exceptional quarterback and
list after list of impartial observers trying to crank out endless quarterback
rankings for penny clicks were all fools for leaving him out of the sacred 'top
ten quarterbacks'. He was the piece of consistency that would lead us to joy.
Our candle in the darkness. The fantasy was hope, and it was enough, and now
it's gone.
Reality is, frankly, shitty. When one realizes that sadness has
been more of a constant in your life than happiness and that happiness was for
the most part delusory, it can make one embittered. That is what happened
against the Jets, we collectively realized the big lie. This team was never
going to be good. The plan was flawed from the start. This still-birth of a
team never developed the organs to live. Some will cradle it and lay it in the
crib and imagine how they'll pay for college, but the rest of us, well, we pray
that we may find peace and the strength to maybe one day try again. The fantasy
is over for the 2018 Detroit Lions. It came remarkably quick. Perhaps they may
win the next five games (magical thinking indeed) but they won't. It's time to
stop predicting and strategizing for this team. Let them go as they please,
maybe one day it will be alright to fantasize again. For now, if one must
continue to watch and follow football, admire others that live the blissful
life of fantasy. I hear the Jets have a talented young quarterback. I wonder
how highly he'll be ranked on those lists....
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