I admit it. I live in a world of fear. I have a wife and two teenage daughters. I’ve been married 25 years and the girls are 19 and 16, healthy, happy and demonic. I’ve got a dog who loves to go on runs. With a bum hip. I’ve got a law practice that’s almost 20 years old.
And I’ve been a Charger fan since 1972.
So I know fear. Oh…I KNOW fear. And what I fear more than anything, and the reason why I live in fear is that every day I get older and every moment I gain a little bit of sentient knowledge, it only adds to the inexorable and growing and certain dread that…I…control…nothing. Nothing.
I think the reason we love to be fans of our teams, why we root so hard for so many years in the face of so many devastating, heart wrenching losses and melt downs and failures to win Super Bowls, is because we secretly think if we root hard enough and long enough and with enough perfect synchronicity of superstitious behavior (don’t ask me what I did every Thursday during the 1994 Bolt Super Bowl season — it’s too random, degrading and ridiculous — just know it involved precise though awkward physical movements and gestures which needed to be performed at particularized moments during quality alone shower time), we will actually impact the results of what we view a bunch of crazed 20-somethings doing on a grassy field with an irregularly shaped ball. Secretly, deep down, we think we can control the outcome. Because if we win…then we HAVE. And if we win, we are gods. We have shaped the future to our will. Our team — as an extension of our own fanatic desires — has been the instrument of our greatness. Yeah, us!!!!
But if we lose — especially if we lose in some hideous, unforseeable, ridiculous, despicable way (see Holy Roller, or Philip’s dropping the ball on his kneel down at KC or any other play or series of plays which have ripped the hearts out of Charger fans for the last four decades), then we are confronted with the stark reality. We control nothing. We have willed nothing. We are not gods. We are alone in the universe, amongst chaos and despair. And some douchebag next to us wearing a Raider jersey think HE’S a god, and he’s just an asshole. And his team is a team of assholes. And my twirling around twice in the shower while humming San Diego Super Chargers on Thursday morning DIDN’T WORK. WHAT?
So. That is what I have learned. When Ryan Succop misses a chip shot field goal and Melvin Ingram intercepts Andy Dalton and Keenan Allen leaps into the end zone and smacks some dback right back on his ass…then, there is a God. And that God…is….ME!!!!!
But when or if we lose, then there is no god. And it’s certainly not me. That’s what I’m most afraid of. That I am not a god.
And that Matthews and Hardwick won’t play. OK. Really, that’s what I’m most afraid of. That Matthews and Hardwick won’t play.
P.S. Chargers win this game by six.
P.P.S. Just kidding. No clue.