Justin Halpern wrote an article for the bang-on, ridiculously awesome website Grantland.com. Halpern is the gifted writer behind the Twitter Account Shit My Dad Says. In the article, he tells a priceless tale about misplaced passions and the thorny path they can lead us down. I won't spoil it with a money quote here because the payoff is just too good. Go read it for yourself.
It does beg the question: is our passion for sports teams, in particular, and sports, in general, worth the emotional roller coaster that it puts us on?
I inherited a love and loyalty for the Dallas Cowboys since before I had sports consciousness. My paternal grandfather had season tickets to the Cowboys inaugural season at the Cotton Bowl. I have lasting memories of my maternal grandmother's voice, yelling at the TV on Sunday afternoons in their tiny, south dallas home: "Come on, Cowboys! Go!" Since the invention of DVR, I can count on one hand, how many games I've missed in 8 years (which really isn't saying too much). I have watched a dozen games live in Irving and Arlington. I even sold concession hot dogs at Texas Stadium in the hey-day 90s for our high school band fund raiser. While I'm not an over-the-top Super Fan that you'll find tailgating all day at Cowboys Stadium, boozing it up under a canopy watching the pre-game on satellite feed from a 60" TV blaring from the backend of a Chevy Tahoe, I do consider my love for the Cowboys to be undying, win or lose.
There's something to be said for the collective mood of a city the week after a loss on Sunday. And vice versa. It matters in some way. Jerry Jones shenanigans aside, the region's sports clubs have an emotional impact on the area whether they win or lose. We just can't get around it. The siren's song is just too lovely.
It does beg the question: is our passion for sports teams, in particular, and sports, in general, worth the emotional roller coaster that it puts us on?
I inherited a love and loyalty for the Dallas Cowboys since before I had sports consciousness. My paternal grandfather had season tickets to the Cowboys inaugural season at the Cotton Bowl. I have lasting memories of my maternal grandmother's voice, yelling at the TV on Sunday afternoons in their tiny, south dallas home: "Come on, Cowboys! Go!" Since the invention of DVR, I can count on one hand, how many games I've missed in 8 years (which really isn't saying too much). I have watched a dozen games live in Irving and Arlington. I even sold concession hot dogs at Texas Stadium in the hey-day 90s for our high school band fund raiser. While I'm not an over-the-top Super Fan that you'll find tailgating all day at Cowboys Stadium, boozing it up under a canopy watching the pre-game on satellite feed from a 60" TV blaring from the backend of a Chevy Tahoe, I do consider my love for the Cowboys to be undying, win or lose.
There's something to be said for the collective mood of a city the week after a loss on Sunday. And vice versa. It matters in some way. Jerry Jones shenanigans aside, the region's sports clubs have an emotional impact on the area whether they win or lose. We just can't get around it. The siren's song is just too lovely.
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