Sunday, June 30, 2013

Everybody Knows




Hi.

That's as good a place as any to start, I suppose.  You might know me, you might not.  If you're a long-suffering Lions fan who does know who I am, then it's probably from my previous incarnation at Armchair Linebacker, where I said a bunch of wild and crazy shit that seemed to both move people and speak to their wounded idiot fan hearts.  If you don't know me, well . . . the best way I can sum this whole thing up is that while I was at Armchair Linebacker, I basically became the Lions blogger version of Hard Harry from Pump Up the Volume, which is a completely ridiculous movie that nonetheless is much beloved and seems vaguely important.  It's about a disaffected teenager played by Christian Slater, who sits at a microphone and says all manner of vile and offensive shit and somehow finds himself the voice of an entire legion of fuck-ups, reprobates and the otherwise put-upon youth of America.  Jesus, I sound kind of full of myself here, don't I?

Wait, wait, before you strain something rolling your eyes, let me clear this up.  I don't think I'm the voice of some sort of disenfranchised subgroup of Lions fans.  I'm barely fit to represent a band of crippled werewolves with brains rotted by syphilis.  The similarity comes from this: I say shit other people won't say.  I say the shit a lot of people are thinking but just can't quite seem to put in words.  Or at least that is my reputation.  I am not suffering from delusions of grandeur here, that is actually a thing many, many people have said to me.  But like Hard Harry, I am probably too fucked up and too weird and I offend too many people to really stand as a figure of mainstream respect and adoration.  Most Lions fans don't have a fucking clue who I am and the majority of those who do probably think I'm a weird fuck-up and they're probably not wrong.  I am crass and the metaphorical FCC of public opinion will chase me down and have me locked away just like the real FCC did to Hard Harry at the end of Pump Up the Volume.  (Uh . . . spoiler alert.)

But fuck all that, I'm not here to grovel at anyone's feet.  I am here to say the shit nobody else will say.  I am here to say the shit that needs to be said.  I am here to Talk Hard.

I've decided to lead each post with Leonard Cohen's "Everybody Knows" just like Hard Harry did each of his shows in the movie.  Why?  Well first of all, I am embarrassingly unoriginal and shockingly corny, and second, and most importantly, because goddammit it fits.

After all, just listen to the lyrics.  Is there anything that better sums up the plight of the Lions fan these days than that? 


Everybody knows that the dice are loaded.
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed. 
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died.


Indeed.

Look, before you pop the cap on the ol' drain cleaner smoothie, let me explain.  I realize that is impossibly bleak and awful and oh god there is a hyena chewing out my insides but here's the thing: we dared to dream and dream big in the primordial ooze of a new world following the supernova like explosion of the old world we call 0-16 (shiver) and for a while things seemed like they might work out.  The air was blue, the grass was green and I was working the happy metaphor crank like a compulsive masturbator.  But then the Lions went 4-12 last year, Matthew Stafford suffered a weird season long malaise which casts some doubt on whether or not he's got the mental skillz to match up with his considerable physical skillz, Ndamukong Suh became Hannibal Lecter in the eyes of the rest of the world and was seen starring in those whacky Taiwanese news recreations of famous train wrecks (look, anytime you're keeping company with Tiger Woods' Boner Follies and Charlie Sheen, you know things have gotten entirely too fucked up), Titus Young went crazy and tried to fight everybody from Louis Delmas to the cops to his own sanity, Titus was subsequently thrown off the team and out of polite society, the Lions drafted a 25 year old hipster from Africa who's barely played football in his life to be their new star pass rusher on defense - which is only the most important position in Gunther Cunningham's defensive scheme - Jason Hanson committed seppuku rather than suffer one more year of this madness, people started wearing paper bags on their heads again and a giant Matt Millen head appears in my dreams every couple of days and taunts me for a while before its giant maw opens and Rod Marinelli staggers out naked, wearing only a diaper and starts screaming at me about pad level before I wake up in a cold sweat and realize that things have taken a very, very bad turn.

Everybody knows the good guys lost.

Okay, so now what?  That's just the thing. We all know this is doomed because that is humanity's default state.  Doomed.  The good guys lose, the war gets lost and in the end we are all just violent savages, hateful wretches who should probably get blown out of a volcano into the waiting arms of an angry sun god.  But the fragile beauty of humanity lies in its ability to move forward in the face of doom, to always strive for something, anything better than the savagery which will undo us before the end.  We are a people forever in search of a utopia that does not exist, a people determined to create a sort of heaven on earth because that's the only way to deal with the madness of reality.  Man is not defined by his failure but by his reaction to it.  Man is a doomed creature who refuses to acknowledge that he is doomed.  Man is bent and beaten but he is not broken.  Man smiles a bloody smile and gets on with the business of living.

And so it is with Lions fans.  We know the score.  We're not dumb.  Mildly delusional, sure, but we're not stupid.  We get it.  The dice are loaded.  We're fucked.  But the restless and indefatigable nature of our souls keeps us going, keeps us moving forward.  Towards what, we have no idea, but that's the tragic beauty of humanity - we always leave room for the beauty of possibility, for the idea that salvation might lie just over that next hill - or in this case, the next game or the next season - no matter how unlikely it may seem.  We are a people who have always gazed at the stars at night, wondered what was up there, what was out there, not because we feared it, but because we believed innately in the possibility of the unknown.  We gaze into the night because we yearn for that twinkle, for that glimmer of Hope.

We believe in Calvin Johnson.  He is our North Star, guiding us, keeping us true and safe.  We see possibility sprinkled in the constellations we have named Suh or Ansah, Fairley and Young.  We see a comet named Bush, streaking through the sky and we wish upon it, close our eyes and dream of a better world.

Okay, even I can admit this is getting too fucking corny but I am not ashamed to admit that I can be disgustingly sentimental.  For all my bluster and foul-mouthed goonery deep down I am just a wide-eyed fool who wants to be happy.  I keep my heart open to possibility even if that means it gets broken over and over again. 

Everybody knows the boat is leaking, and everybody knows that the captain lied, but I'm gonna stand on the bow of this goddamn ship anyway and I'm going to stare out over the horizon, because Fear is just a word and Possibility is what defines us.  Go Lions.

 

Thursday, January 10, 2013

The Bejeweled Demon



It came in the mail.  I didn’t know what it was but it was wrapped in a weathered box and was marked with words in several foreign languages, including some foreboding African ones that had their “t’s” crossed with machetes.  I was reluctant to let the damn thing in my home, especially since it was radiating a weird energy and there were bloody footprints leading away from it.  I could only presume that they came from the mailman, who had limped away after some titanic struggle with whatever was in this terrible box.  But I looked at the return address and saw the familiar and reassuring name of my good friend, Raven Mack.  So despite my misgivings I brought the package inside and opened it, cutting it open with a chainsaw because that’s just how I do.

I’ll never forget what I saw.  It appeared to be some sort of bejeweled demon with the hilt of a mighty blade sticking out of it.  I pulled on the blade but it would not come free.  I cursed and slapped at the thing and my palms immediately felt hot, as if they had been burned by the demon.  Afraid that I had angered it, I threw a towel over its head and retreated to the dark, where I nursed some banana beer and wondered why Raven had sent me such a thing.  And then, I saw it.

In the wreckage of the box lay a shredded note.  I staggered over to it, half-drunk on banana beer and I did my best to reassemble it.  Even then, it wasn’t easy to read, as it appeared that it had been written in blood and the words were smeared by either tears or old semen.  I couldn’t be sure.  But I could make out the following:

“ . . . been too much for my family to bear . . . sixteen deaths . . . mutilated goats . . . I fought for hours but it just kept coming . . . to you in the hopes that you can figure out how to defeat it . . . look to the tipi . . . it is coming, it is coming . . . no!  NO!!!”

Shaken, I nervously eyed the demon with the towel over its head.  The words seemed like nonsense.  Maybe Raven had taken up drinking again.  Maybe he had finally lost it at work and was now driving railroad spikes into the sunken eyes of the decapitated skulls of his coworkers and fortifying his compound with their bones.  Who knows?  But I trusted the man.  We had simply been through too many Spirit Wars together not to and so I decided that I had to learn as much about this bejeweled demon and the blade that it so curiously housed. 

I took to my archives, gathered from years of painstaking research and field work in the darkest corners of both the world and the human heart.  I ran my fingers along my beloved books containing the myths and legends of that great human protector, The Great Willie Young, books that took up two whole walls of my makeshift study.  I pored through them all night, looking for answers, but even The Great Willie Young never seemed to encounter this strangely bejeweled demon.  The hairs on my neck began to stand up as I remembered old legends about aliens come to eviscerate the local cattle.  A man had found his dog walking bowlegged with a ruptured anus one morning and had blamed it on shape-shifting greys.  No, get a hold of yourself damn it, I thought, downing what was left of my stock of banana beer.  You’re too drunk and you cannot figure this out in this state.

That night I couldn’t sleep and I found myself picturing the face of that monstrous demon.  Goddammit, what was it?  Was it really a demon?  No, don’t be preposterous.  The skull of a fallen grey?  No, that would be even more absurd?  A turtle perhaps?  Yes, a giant turtle.  That was it.  That had to be it.  I convinced myself that this was all there was to this fiend and I huddled under my covers and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

I awoke with a start.  How long had I been out?  An hour?  Two?  It was still dark but there was an ominous . . . presence I suppose is the only word for it, and I crept out of bed with a monstrous erection.  Don’t ask why.  These things just happen.  I crept out of my room and into the hall where an eerie glow illuminated the walls.  Bloody handprints reached up and up and up, finally dying near the ceiling as if some poor creature had been literally climbing the walls in desperate fear.  My pulse quickened and, in an instinctive crouch, I moved down the hall, naked, eyes wide, my adrenaline keeping my erection firm and at the ready in case of . . . in case of . . . god only knows but as the Boy Scouts say, always be prepared.

The glow increased in intensity with each step and when I emerged from the hallway I discovered the bejeweled demon, glowing with an intensity that I fear may have permanently damaged my retinae.  Whenever I close my eyes, I can still see it, leering at me from within that awful glow.  Terrible, terrible, terrible . . .

The towel I had thrown over it was smoldering in the corner, more ash than towel really, and the corpse of a giant elk was crucified on my wall.  I am not one to panic, but in that moment I am not ashamed to admit that I lost it a bit.  I ran from my home, screaming and was intercepted by a concerned neighbor who said “Neil, you’re naked again.  Why don’t you let me get you back to bed.” 

I cuffed him with a brutal right hand, shattering his ear-drums and screamed something unintelligible at him.  Poor Doug.  An 89 year old man does not deserve such things.  But these were desperate times and I simply could not tolerate his inanity.  There was a goddamn demon on the loose.

I huddled behind a makeshift shed behind Doug’s house.  I could see his wife peering at me from behind the blinds, phone in hand.  The harridan was calling 911, I was sure of it.  I wanted to stop her but I figured the site of a naked man with a beard on both his face and his junk would send her into a panic and I didn’t need a SWAT team chasing me through the night along with that horrible bejeweled demon.  But wait, maybe that was exactly what I needed.  If I could turn their firepower against this vondruke perhaps I could escape this night with my life and my sanity after all.  And so I did the only thing I could do.  I leapt from behind the shed and ran at the old lady.  I feared for a moment that she would suffer a heart attack.  She was 102 years old after all, a lusty cougar who had seduced young Douglas back when he was on the cusp of retirement and she a desperate widow who had pissed away her previous husband’s life insurance and had been . . . indiscreet with her social security money, buying the finest hams and showering a young Filipino gigolo named Manuel with gifts.  She had targeted Doug and his union pension, probably for several years, and I know she wished the man dead so she could collect on his benefits and so I decided that if the shock of seeing me rushing at her home, naked with crazed fear in my eyes caused her to drop dead of a heart attack then so be it, at least Douglas would be free.  I didn’t feel particularly good about it but tough decisions had to be made.

When she saw me coming, she dropped the phone.  But I knew that eventually she would gather what was left of her dusty wits and place that call and so I kept on running, and I ran and I ran and I ran until I could run no more, until finally the panic had passed and I could think clearly, rationally.  I remembered the note.  What had Raven said?  Something about a tipi?  I imagined him sitting inside his own tipi, hard at work on his zine and then I imagined that bejeweled beast attacking him, perhaps ruffling his papers around, messing them up so they were out of order, just to be a dick, and I became angry.  That foul fiend.  And so I made the decision to creep back to my home.  I had to hide in the bushes while a patrol car crept by, shining a flashlight down my drive.  One car.  One goddamned car.  That was all they could send?  I cursed under my breath and knew that I was on my own.  I felt bad for involving Doug and his old (old as dirt) lady in this affair but it couldn’t be helped.  Besides, they had both seen worse.  He was a Korean War veteran and even worse they had been my neighbors for six long terrifying years.  The things they had seen, the depravities and crimes against humanity . . . awful, awful.  Once, Doug told me that he sometimes wished he was back in Korea, fighting the Slopes.  I admonished him for his appalling racial insensitivity but he told me “Goddammit, Neil, at least them mongrels have a shred of decency.  They’ll just bayonet you in the balls.  You on the other hand . . . goddammit, son, don’t think me and the wife haven’t heard the screams coming from your place.”  He then shuddered and we never spoke of it again.  Yes, they probably thought this was just another Tuesday.  At least I wasn’t asking to borrow a shovel and a bag of lime again.

I waited out the patrol car and then I slipped down my drive.  It was freezing out but my adrenaline kept me safe, kept me moving.  The soles of my feet were raw, bleeding, and I knew that I would be in pain the next day but goddammit, I had work to do just to see the next day.  There were no guarantees, not with this demon running around, and so I resolved to do anything, destroy anything, myself included, if it meant preserving the world for just one more day.  After all, if nothing else, I am a hero.

My entire home was aglow at this point.  In restrospect, the sight was hauntingly beautiful, eerie like the Northern Lights shining over the fresh kill of a polar bear and when I think of it I am sometimes brought to tears.  But on that night it was just terrifying.  There was no beauty to the moment and I closed my eyes and barreled right through my front door.  Almost immediately I was set upon by tiny little demons, each with that terrible bejeweled head.  They clawed at me and bit my legs.  I howled in pain and squashed several of them but each time I did more sprung up to take their place.  I grabbed the giant horns of the crucified elk and I swung like Tarzan into my kitchen where I tossed a handful of the horrible miniature demons in the microwave and hit START.  The damn thing sparked and then blew up and yet they did not die.  Desperate, I lunged for the bejeweled statue, knocking it to the floor.  It was then that I saw that the hilt of the blade seemed loose.  I reached for it and I pulled.  It still wouldn’t give.  Damn it, I thought, how am I supposed to beat this thing?  I pressed myself against a wall and as I held the swarming miniature demons at bay with desperate kicks and wild punches, I said a silent prayer to The Great Willie Young.  And in that moment, a strange calm came about me and I knew that if I tried again the blade would come free.  I reached out, I pulled and sure enough, the blade slid free.  The air rushed with a sort of hissing noise and I could hear an awful scream, as if some terrible fell beast had been wounded in another dimension. 

The blade itself appeared to be fairly ordinary, a little rusted, dull around the edge, but it glowed red with the hot fire of The Great Willie Young himself and so I felt confident as I began to hack at the terrible little demons assaulting me in my own home.  And one by one, they died at the edge of this holy relic, this blade that was infused with the immortal power of The Great Willie Young himself.  And yet, there were too many of them.  I am but a simple man, and it wasn’t long before my arms tired and the swinging of the blade came slower and slower.  And still they came, in the thousands, the millions.  The floor of my home was an ocean of their dark blood and I swam through it – don’t ask me to recount the memory of that experience for it is too horrible to even imagine – the holy blade clutched in my teeth, the demon statue under one arm.  I do not know why I grabbed it.  I suppose that I knew that if I didn’t find a way to defeat it that no one would and I would not be responsible for the world ending.  And so I grabbed it and I swam and I swam and I swam through that viscous muck until I spilled out of my front door. 

It was then that I heard the barking of the police dogs, and saw the helicopters with their giant lights shining down on me.  I saw Doug and his extremely old lady huddled on their front lawn, a blanket wrapped around them while paramedics saw to their various maladies and I cursed the old woman.  But it was half-hearted.  I couldn’t blame her.  And besides, I had bigger issues to deal with.  And so, naked, covered in the blood and viscera of countless slain miniature demons, I ran through the woods behind my home, glowing statue in hand and blood-soaked blade in my mouth.  It tasted of . . . death, and with each demon drop that slid down my throat on that terrible night I could hear the savage wails of billions of tormented souls.  But still, with tears in my eyes and madness in my heart, I ran on.   I could hear the dogs yapping and snarling as they chased after me, and I could hear the terrible whir of the helicopters above as they searched and every once in a while I would hear the crack of a gun and would almost feel the bullet whiz past me but still I eluded them.

But as I ran, I got the sickening feeling that I wasn’t alone.  I had yet to look back, such was my desperation to flee that terrible place, but I decided that I had to, if only to achieve a sense of closure, and when I did I saw the horrifying sight of countless miniature demons chasing after me.  But they were keeping their distance and when I stopped to look back at them, they stopped too, and they leered at me with terrible, toothy grins, devilish grins and I screamed at them “Back, you fell beasts!  You unholy monsters!  You have plagued me long enough!  Long enough!”  But the demons just laughed at me.  Angry, and not knowing what else to do, I held the bejeweled statue in front of me.  And one by one, the demons knelt.  I cried with sudden relief and held the statue before me.  I could hear the dogs getting closer and I wondered if perhaps I could somehow turn this to my advantage.  It was clear that these demons worshipped the statue.  They seemed to revere it as some sort of great mother from which they had all sprung.  I had no desire to make deals with such evil but these were desperate times and hey, fuck the police.

And so I began to scream at the demons, ordering them to set up a defensive perimeter.  But again, they just laughed at me and it soon became clear that their “fealty” was little more than a disgusting attempt to mock me.  After all, why would demons revere anything but themselves?  And even then, is not a demon merely the ultimate manifestation of self-loathing?  No, if anything, they hated themselves and their “mother.”  Realizing this, I tossed the bejeweled demon statue to the ground.  The little hellions all screeched with anger and began to chase me again.  Oops.

Realizing my error, I turned and ran, blade in hand, and yet no matter how close they came, the demons never seemed to catch me.  I was nearing the river and I realized with sickening dread that they were penning me in, playing with me, waiting for me to reach the river where they would no doubt consume both me and my soul. 

But still I ran.  After all, what more was there left for me to do?  In the absence of Hope man must still find something to cling to, and the rawest and most basic thing that any of us has left is the animal instinct to simply survive, even if it is but for an extended moment, one more moment to think, to feel, to know, to experience the feel of a blade of grass on the feet, the gentle breath of a cool breeze, the laughter of a river as it rushes by.  I ran and I lived, without Hope, but with the desire to simply exist for one more moment compelling me forward, forward, forward . . .

And it was then that I was saved, as a host of River People sprang from the mud and the reeds surrounding the river and threw themselves at the tiny demons.  I saw the haunting death in one of their faces, the face of a man who knows he is giving the ultimate sacrifice for something greater than himself – for life itself and the possibility that lies at its fragile little heart.  I looked at him and he looked at me and just before he was swarmed by an army of those tiny monsters he said to me “Go!  Live!  And never forget that we River People saved you and saved you for a mighty cause, the cause of Truth!  Spread this Truth to the world and remember us, not as vagrants or mongrels but as men, the last free men there are!”  And then, the last free man died, swarmed by hundreds, thousands, of the hellions, who ate his flesh and left him nothing more than a quivering mass of red bones.  I will never forget the sight of it as long as I live.

But thanks to him and his people I did get to live, as I dove beneath the frigid waters of the river and swam to the safety of a small wooded isle.  Weeping for the heroic sacrifice of those brave men and women of the River, I crawled, blade in hand to a clearing, where I lay sobbing, naked and terrified.  Up above, the police helicopters still tried to track me but the island repelled their efforts and hid me in its embrace.  And yet, after a time, I could hear the sounds of something – millions of things – swimming.  Horrified, I peered out across the waters of the river only to see in the moonlight those horrible hellions swimming slowly toward me.  A mass of them in the middle carried on their backs that horrible bejeweled statue, glowing with its hellish light, and I collapsed on the ground and screamed at the sky, asking what I had done to deserve such a monstrous fate.  I thought back to my friend Raven and I wondered how he had escaped, how he had found a way to rid himself of these demons.  Perhaps he hadn’t.  Perhaps he had just bought himself much needed time, or maybe he had found a way after all.  Yes.  What did he say?  Look to the tipi?  Yes, that was it.  Perhaps . . . yes!  Yes, it made sense.  After all, he had often spoken with me of the sacred nature of his tipi, ranted and raved to me about it being a sanctuary from the evils of the world.  I always thought he was just being hyperbolic or metaphorical and then we would do another line of crank and forget about the whole thing while we fought crime using advanced forms of karate until the sun came up and we shook hands and went back to our homes.  But what if he wasn’t being metaphorical?  What if it were all true?

I breathlessly asked myself this as I watched them slowly doggy-paddle across the river.  Either they weren’t very good swimmers or they were toying with me, the bastards.  On the other hand, it was possible that the sanctifying power of the river itself was slowing them down.  Who knows?  Whatever the case, their slow approach gave me time.  And with this time I used the holy blade, wrested from the prison of the demon, to fashion for myself a crude tipi.  It wasn’t much, but it was enough.  Or so I hoped anyway.

When I was finished, I stood naked, still covered in demon blood, in the middle of the tipi.  The blood sizzled and seemed to scream and although it burned and left me permanently scarred, a hideous mangled man who will be forever wrecked and wasted physically, a blight in the eyes of “normal” men, destined to be little more than a local legend, a folk tale told around campfires to scare children, I love each and every scar, for it is a reminder that I fought the good fight and so long as I am alive, the world shall know peace.

And it will know peace because on that night those hellions stormed the isle, like terrible little soldiers storming Normandy and for a while I simply watched as they threw themselves against my tipi and were repelled by its holy powers.  But yet they still kept coming and kept coming and kept coming and it wasn’t long before I realized that they would never stop, no matter how hopeless their attempts.  I knew that as a mortal man this would eventually drive me insane and I feared what I would do in that insane state.  Would I give in to these monsters?  The thought was too horrible to contemplate and so I did what I had to do and I leapt out, blade in hand and I slew scores of them, hundreds of them, thousands, so that the isle’s ground was dyed with their black blood.  It is horrible and where they died I fear no new trees will ever grow.  But it had to be done.  The island and the river that feeds it and the river people that are its guardians understand.  I fought for what had to be hours with the little demons.  The sun rose in the sky and it fell again.  Occasionally, I would still hear the distant barking of a dog or the whir of a copter’s blades but they could not find me and so I ignored them as I fought.  Seven times the sun rose and seven times it fell before finally I wrested the bejeweled demon statue from the clutches of those monsters and dragged it with me, fighting my way back to my tipi, an effort which itself took another several days.  Finally, exhausted, I collapsed inside of my tipi and as I did the statue finally ceased to glow and with a terrible shriek I will never forget all the little demons shriveled and died, crumbled to dust and were blown away by a cold and merciless wind.

And so now here I sit, inside of my tipi on this deserted island in the middle of the river, naked and cold.  But I am sustained by the solemnity of my office, by my duty, for I am the guardian of the bejeweled demon statue, like that old ass knight who guards the Holy Grail, and it has fallen to me to protect it, to keep it safe and imprisoned in this holy sanctuary.  I am just thankful that the island has Wi-Fi.

I didn’t ask for this duty, nor do I take any special pride in it, and on some nights I weep for my lost humanity, for all the people I might have known, the things I might have done, the places I might have seen, but still, I do it because no one else can.  Perhaps this makes me a hero, or perhaps this just makes me a man.  Who is to say?  All I know is that it’s been a hell of a month and at least now I don’t have to watch the Lions play.

Monday, December 10, 2012

One More Day, One More Game, One More . . .




If the concept of "Lions fandom" had a face, this is what it would look like.




The thing about being a Lions fan is that you get used to having to constantly recalibrate your expectations and goals – and when I say “recalibrate” what I really mean is “downgrade.”  As awful as it is, we’re used to it.  It’s the only way to survive as a Lions fan without being driven completely into an insane nether world of the soul where Failure Demons gnaw at your liver and the Ghosts of Failures Past all rattle their chains and then choke you out with them while you weep and beg the bad man to make it stop.  You have to stick and move, play little shell games with your own mind and convince yourself that up is down and black is white and that little things – idiotic, self-contained goals that are meaningless other than in a symbolic sense – are what truly matter.  Because, year after year, season after season, death march after death march, all we really have are symbols and meaningless tests of manhood and the scraps of our obliterated pride.

And so going into the game against the Packers, in the frozen hell of Lambeau Field, that blasted and barren plain where so many have died, where the corpses of shattered pride have come to rest year after year after year, I did what so many Lions fans did and made a solemn plea, spoken only to my own heart, and asked “Please.”  Simply . . . please.  In this year in which we have lost so much, in this year in which we dared to dream and were decapitated by fell beasts with swords made of our own suffering as we tried desperately to scramble up the beaches of the Promised Land, all we had left – all we have left – is that familiar battle for meaningless symbolism.  And it is because it is meaningless that it has come to mean everything.  In the absence of all else, in the absence of meaning, all that we have left to cling to is the meaningless, to root for abstract concepts like pride and honor, words that don’t mean a whole hell of a lot when you’re 4-8 and staring down a vintage season from hell.  But in the blasted wasteland of our souls, a wasteland made all too real in Lambeau Field, we cling to vestiges of meaningless words and the ghosts of abstract concepts that mock us with meaning that stretches forever just beyond our reach, turning us into poor Tantalus, forever trying to drink from forbidden waters.  And in the end, even though it’s just a sip, just a taste, something so small and absurd and insignificant that others would shrug their shoulders or laugh at our struggle, in the absence of all else, that struggle, that tiny little sip is all we have and it means everything.  When all else fails, when the world crumbles and breaks beneath our feet, when possibility narrows and leaves us suffocating in a fetid and collapsed tunnel of our own disappointment and naked terror, the one thing – the one goddamn thing – we always have left is the possibility, no matter how remote, that we can finally watch our team beat the Green Bay Packers in that godforsaken wasteland known as Lambeau.

It is such a fragile thing, such a delicate and barely tethered to reality idea, that it was impossible for me to even talk about out loud before the game.  To even admit that it was there, to even admit that I wanted it so very badly, would threaten its very existence, would remind me that it was all I had left to look forward to, that if this barely breathing symbolic dream was somehow smothered and then died that I would have to search for new battles, for new symbols, for new meaningless wars to wage, and goddammit, I am tired of having to do that.  I’m tired.  So very tired.  I’m tired of having to create new reasons to keep going, to keep watching, to keep caring.  The heart of my fandom wants to die.  It wants to quit beating.  It wants to give out and tell me to go do something else, like hunting hobos or writing poetry about aardvarks or something, anything other than forcing my corpse like a zombie through the halls of fandom one more time only to see it obliterated by failure and then picked apart by vultures from hell.  This is what it means to be a fan of the Detroit Lions for a lifetime.  It is a sentence, not a gift.

This is all very depressing but then again, so is being a fan of this shitbird franchise.  Last night, I even decided to do other things – ridiculous things – that at least made me feel happy while I DVR’d the game.  That kind of detachment is dangerous, warning signs from a heart that’s had to deal with way, way too much stress in a lifetime of misery and abuse.  But before you freak out on me, just know this – by the end of the Lions first drive, I had the game on live again because I am a goddamn addict and I don’t listen to my heart and one day that heart will explode and the fan in me will die a ridiculous and ugly death, I will poop myself and that will be that.  I will ride this thing to the fuckin’ grave because in the end, not knowing, not caring, is even harder than the knowing and the caring.  And that’s because deep down, in a place that I have no control over, I am utterly helpless and I am so inextricably tied to this idiot team, this horrible shitty franchise, that to simply cease to care is unfathomable.  You might as well ask me to quit breathing.

The game itself was awful in the same way that all of the games have been awful this season.  There is no point in breaking it down, in asking what went wrong or why, because we all know what went wrong.  We all know why.  It is the same story, week after week after miserable week.  Slamming our heads against the wall one more time in the hopes that somehow we can piece the goo that was our brains back together into something coherent and sane and illuminating is not going to help us at all.  No, instead all we have is a sort of stunned and belligerent bewilderment, a vague disbelief constantly struggling with an insane and volcanic sort of rage.  In one moment we are moaning “Whyyyyyy?” like Nancy Kerrigan after getting clubbed in the knee and the next we are saying and thinking and feeling the vilest shit a dude or lady dude can say or think or feel.  This team breaks our heart, again and again, and we hate it so goddamn much because we love it, because it has the capacity to shatter us like that.  Jim Schwartz hasn’t caused so much vitriolic disdain because we think he’s just a useless turd or a worthless coach, but because his utter failure this season has been such a vicious betrayal of everything we believed about him and about his team.  Perhaps that isn’t fair and perhaps it says more about us than it does him or this team – it almost certainly does and that’s the tragedy of it all, the reason why this damn thing always feels so hard.  Every loss, every failure is magnified by the horrors of the past, and it’s why we sizzle like helpless ants underneath that magnifying glass while the universe laughs and tortures us like the cruel child holding it.  Jim Schwartz and this Lions team are caught up in something much bigger, much more horrible and much more tragic than themselves.  This is not about them but about us.  But this is just the way it is, and their failures, magnified though they may be into something warped and monstrous, remain failures all the same.

So where do you go when your hope lies shattered and the last vestiges of a symbolic triumph lay smoldering on the wasteland behind you while vile heathen natives wearing cheese on their heads dance to awful Todd Rundgren songs and mock your sorry ashes?  Well, you do what you always do, you somehow clamber back to your feet like a zombie and you lurch into the horizon, searching for brains and for a new symbolic battle to fight.  It’s already happening now.  We look at our remaining schedule and we see the opportunity to play spoiler to the Bears, to ruin their playoff dreams, and we groan BRAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNSSSSSSSS and off we go.

This is what it means to be a Lions fan.  Understanding this is an exercise in naked horror, and yet understanding it is vital to keeping yourself from falling into the pit of madness and despair that lies at the heart of places like MLive or the talk radio circuit.  You have to make at least a measure of philosophical peace with the horrible truth.  You just have to.  You don’t have to like it – hell you can hate it and kick and scream about it – but you have to at least reconcile yourself with its abominable truth.  The alternative is to simply cease to care, and when there is a part of you that takes that option completely off the table, that refuses to quit caring, all you have left is, well . . . the grim recognition of a horrible truth, which at least gives you something to work with.  You can do something with that, pivot around it, stay just far enough in front of it that it doesn’t consume you completely.

I am rambling, but such is my wont.  In the end, I suppose all I have come to say is that deep in my idiot heart I really, really wanted to beat the Packers, not because it means anything in terms of playoff races or momentum or anything like that, but simply because in its absence of meaning it meant everything.  It was a symbolic crusade in a world gone mad, a lonely old knight tilting at windmills, not even sure what to hope for, what to believe in, but finding something, anything really, just to keep going one more day, one more game.

That is what we have left as Lions fans in this season of despair.  That is what we have left as fans of a franchise that has redefined the concepts of failure and despair in the world of sport.  One more day, one more game, and then when that day and that game end the same way they have all seemingly ended for the last 55 years, the way they have all ended before you were even born, when your parents were babies and your grandparents were you, looking out over a world spread before them, hoping and dreaming the same way you do, you scrape yourself off of the earth and you look to the next day and to the next game and you keep doing this and you keep doing this and you keep doing this because it is all you know, because it is what it means to be human, to push forward with an indomitable spirit, with an unbreakable sense that someday, someday, someday either the world will reward you or it will end in a monstrous fireball, but you will not end first.  And this is what it means to be a fan of the Detroit Lions.


Thursday, December 6, 2012

Disintegration




To paraphrase a dude who loves - LOVES - to talk: They wanna be assholes, let them be assholes. It's not my problem.

Indeed.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

That's What You Get For Falling in Love




Lions fans, after the game




Shortly after the Lions lost in the 11,689thperformance of The Passion of the Roary, I did the idiotic thing and headed to Twitter where of course everyone was freaking out and beating each other about the heads with spiked bats laced with the tears of the fallen.  While I was there, I noticed this tweet from Jim Schwartz earlier in the day:

@jschwartzlions: Some Bon Jovi on the way to Ford Field: " In and Out of Love", "Bad Medicine".

Indeed.

Hey, that’s what you get for falling in love.

It’s hard to know what else to say in the wake of that fiasco, which somehow made the previous fiascos this year look like orderly and happy parades through the streets, with children laughing and waving from high atop floats rather than the screaming firetrucks down a burning main street with half-naked firemen hanging off the back wailing and telling everyone to run for their lives that they have felt like.  No, somehow this one managed to be even worse, which is a hell of a trick to pull off and yet here we are.  I guess in this scenario the firetruck also blew up right in front of a school and all those laughing and waving children are on fire and hey look, now they’re dead.

Right now, all anyone wants to do is parse through the rubble, the broken bodies, the ashes of the dead and look for clues and evidence and argue and argue and argue and ARGLE BARGLE ARGLE BARGLE!  The camps have armed themselves and are going to war and now I find myself galloping away back into the woods where I once roamed in solitude, alone with my own insanity, leaving behind the cookfires and both the happy people with their grand dreams and the sad people with their hairshirts and prayers to the drowned god, where I will live in a shack and shoot anyone who trespasses on my land.

The Lions are 4-8 and they have gotten to that point in ways both awful and hilarious.  In other words they are not just 4-8 but a true Lions 4-8.  Our good pal @Geekized tweeted me after the game and asked me what the hell happened and I told her the only thing I could: at the end of the game the Lions went Full Lion.  She understood exactly what that meant and I’m sure all you do too.  The Lions went Full Lion.  What else can you say?

Look, it doesn’t really matter why the Lions are 4-8.  They just are.  There is no one who deserves to be saved from the rabid scorn of Lions fans right now.  But everybody has their reasons.  Everybody thinks everyone else is an idiot or a charlatan and the tribe has been torn asunder, with one side saying we should string up Jim Schwartz and the boys and let the crows eat their entrails and the sun bake whatever’s left-over of their clearly shrunken brains while the other has taken up arms to defend poor King James and his court, patting him on the back and saying Buck Up There, Lil’ Camper and telling the others that they should be ashamed for speaking against their Lord and Savior and this is why I have retreated to the woods, to this safe-haven known as Armchair Linebacker, where I can sit in my shack and shave my head and beat myself with a club in peace.

I am done arguing and I am done because what the fuck is there to argue about?  The Lions are 4-8.  Nothing else really matters.  I sort of just want to take Calvin Johnson and The Great Willie Young fishing for a weekend where we can sit in peace and quiet in a tiny boat while a giant bulldozer plows over Ford Field and everybody inside and the zombie hordes stalk the streets eating each other’s brains.  And then we can come back and make a better world together.

I’m going to say something really awful here but when the Colts were driving at the end and were down to their final handful of plays, a sick, masochistic part of me actually wanted them to score, I think.  That is a horrible thing to admit but I think my disdain for this team has gone that far.  A part of me – not a big part but it’s there – takes a perverse sort of satisfaction in watching them suffer, because then at least they will have no excuses.  At least then they will have to take to their quiet places, where they are alone with their own hearts and souls and admit to themselves that goddammit, they need to change.  The horrible truth though is that they won’t do this and instead they will find some crack to squeeze through, some shell-game of the mind that they will play that will make it all okay, that will make it not their fault but the result of some ineffable THAT’S JUST THE WAY IT GOES SOMETIMES madness.

And while yes, that is just the way it goes sometimes, sometimes should not equal fifty years and to just blithely accept that crosses the line from wise serenity to depraved madness.  It’s exactly the sort of willful denial I was talking about in my last piece, when I went nuclear on everybody and felt like I needed a cigarette or perhaps a nice fine shot of China White after I was done writing it.  But I don’t want to do that again.

Look, I feel horrible and ashamed that even a tiny part of me felt like that, that even a single molecule of my body wished for bad things to happen, but I suppose it’s no different than a beat up woman, aged beyond her years, sitting in a run-down apartment complex secretly hoping that her man gets knifed on the way to the horsetrack by a gang of lowly muggers.  This is what it has come to.  I don’t have the strength to leave him myself and so I hope Fate will somehow figure my shit out for me.

It’s vaguely cowardly and definitely tragic and yet it is all too real.  All too real.  I was all set to show up here after the game and sing psalms about the glory of St. Calvin.  I even had a title picked out and everything: “Divine Intervention”.  Yes, I planned to spend roughly eight billion words fellating St. Calvin but then everyone else went and fucked it all up and, well, here we are, sitting in a run-down apartment complex wondering whether or not we should blame ourselves because our man got knifed by some street thugs who stole his wallet.

The truly tragic part of all this though is that after getting knifed and robbed, that son of a bitch is just going to stagger home and beat our ass and in the end we’ll be lying in the bathtub again, bleeding, eyes swollen shut wondering if that support beam can hold the weight of a body.  And meanwhile that son of a bitch is just sitting in the living room, drinking his own pain away, having sloppily stitched himself up, and he’s shouting at us and telling us it’s our own damn fault, that we should’ve done this or done that and that if we only loved him better, loved him harder, that he wouldn’t have to do things like this to us.

But we’ll crawl out of that bathtub and start cooking him his two dollar steak on the hot plate because that is just what we do, and we’ll snuggle up next to him tonight on the pull-out couch with the cigarette burns in it and we’ll feel glad and thankful that at least we have someone and don’t have to wither away all alone like that old biddy who lives next door and smells like cat piss.  This is what being a fan of the Detroit Lions means and I have no room to judge anyone because I’m frantically flipping that steak, trying to tell if it’s done or not through these swollen eyes and hoping that he’ll give me a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the ass when I’m done just like everybody else.

This has been a dark and fucked up post but this has been a dark and fucked up season.  Don’t blame me, I am but a humble chronicler of the times, just a poor fool living in a shack in the woods, trying to drown out the horrible noises made by the warring tribes with the click-clacking of a keyboard and the screaming of my own shattered soul.  The Lions lost today and they lost in a way that was horrible and yet somehow perfect, and I have become death, the destroyer of worlds and one day, a thousand years from now, some poor fool will find these words in a cave and his people will know the faces of both True Evil and True Pain.  And somewhere, my soul will still roam the cosmos, desperately awaiting that moment when the Lions, my Lions, fulfill that soul’s long-suffering hopes.  This is the sort of thing that religions are founded upon, epic tragedies and wandering souls, and today’s game is but a chapter, a sliver in time, a single stanza in that great dirge, and one day in that far off future people will kill each other over those words found in a cave, shields brandished with Lions logos and old priests will carry wooden crucifixes with a bearded idiot name Neil hanging from them and I can only hope that Pope Willie Young will find a way to end the madness before it consumes us all.  But don’t cry for me, friends, for I am already dead.  Go Lions.