Green Bay Packers—True cosmopolitans, Packers fans are far too occupied exploring other cultures and expanding their understanding of the world to have any time for football. Just kidding. They’re obsessive small-town bumfucks who, though they are traumatized by the very mention of Brett Favre, long for the Gunslinger to return to Wisconsin to be the godfather of all their children and eventually run for governor, only to occupy the position long after his rotting corpse decomposes in its seat.
Houston Texans—As the team’s name suggests, Texans fans are an awfully creative bunch. When the city received an NFL franchise again in the early 2000s, citizens were stymied to come up with another mascot. NASA is based in the area, but the Rockets have that covered. What else is there, other than immense sprawl and inescapable gridlock? Oh, right: Texas! Run with that.
Indianapolis Colts—In an odd coincidence, no fan base has perfected the jersey-tucked-into-khaki-pants look quite like that of the Colts. At the same time, no other team’s fans own as many of the dreaded shirseys (a T-shirt made to look like a jersey). Following the lead of recently retired head coach and fundamentalist Christian Tony Dungy, Colts fans try to run down at least one gay person en route to Lucas Oil Stadium.
Jacksonville Jaguars—Congratulations! You’re the first-ever Jaguars fan! Hopefully that doesn’t mean you live in Jacksonville. Should that be the case, the person reading this book for you should have the tact to skip this entry.
Kansas City Chiefs—Like so many others, you’ve been victimized by the postseason choking tendencies of Marty Schottenheimer. You thought that would leave an indelible scar on you, but then Herm Edwards showed up and showed you what true inadequacy was all about. With Edwards now recently departed, Matt Cassel and Todd Haley have arrived to usher in a new era of crushing disappointment in K.C.
Miami Dolphins—There are two types of Dolphins fans: retirees who need OnStar to reach the stadium and cocaine dealers who try to move product in the parking lot. For those looking at getting back into the weed game, Ricky Williams probably has a good connection for you.
Minnesota Vikings—Vikings fans take issue with observers who mock the Bills for being historically inept in championship games, when in fact the Vikes are also 0-for-4 in the Super Bowl. That’s ridiculing that they deserve too. Damn your East Coast bias! That’s the last time they share their lutefisk with you.
New England Patriots—You really like white players in skill positions. I mean, you really, really like them. But you’re also deeply respectful of the Patriots’ proud history, which extends all the way back to 2001, the year when most Patriots fans believe the franchise was founded. The sight of a prematurely purchased 19-0 shirt brings you to tears, as does any mention of David Tyree or Bernard Pollard.
New Orleans Saints—Even years after Hurricane Katrina’s devastation, there’s little chance for you to return to your former home or rebuild your tattered life. But everything’s all bon temps because the Saints went to the playoffs that one year after they fixed the Superdome. And you got Reggie Bush! He’s quite possibly the best back ever to average three yards a carry.
New York Giants—A curious dichotomy separates Giants fans. On one hand, there’s the parking-lot-dwelling, car-smashing Jersey contingent that seems to be the more representative of Giants fans in the eyes of the nation. On the other, there are self-obsessed, moneyed Manhattanites who use football games as an opportunity to unleash their inner asshat, then return to their privileged lives in which they deride the Jersey fans for acting like animals. Nonetheless, Giants fans operate under the ridiculous notion that their fan base is somehow classier than that of the Jets, when they share not only the same stadium, but the same territory and many of the same annoying qualities. You do, however, know not to cram your gun into your sweatpants.
New York Jets—You are either one of the guys goading women to flash their tits near Gate D at the Meadowlands, or you are one of the chesticle-flashing women themselves. There are no other types of Jets fans.
Oakland Raiders—Your soul is the express property of Al Davis (those season ticket forms have some tricky legalese), and he may do with it what he pleases. And he pleases to hack away at it with a halberd, the one that he’s hung onto since his years ruling over Middle Earth. It’s not so bad—at least you get to wear some cool spiked shoulder pads.
Philadelphia Eagles—Ever the environmentally conscious fans, Eagles fans have found a green-friendly way of disposing of used batteries: throwing them at opposing fans, opposing players, stadium concession workers, security officials, Santa Claus, Eagles players who perform badly, and Donovan McNabb regardless of performance. It’s important because batteries are kept out of landfills (where they can leak mercury into the earth) when they’re lodged in someone’s cranium.
Pittsburgh Steelers—People may not understand your need to carry soiled yellow towels and dance awkwardly to polka music, but then they know better than to cross the teeming horde that is Steelers Nation, a phenomenon which, because of flight from economic distress in Pittsburgh, exists in great numbers virtually everywhere on the planet. Steelers fans, when sober enough to be cognizant of their surroundings, drive cautiously around anyone riding a motorcycle, lest they cause further damage to their franchise quarterback. Known for their thunderous chants of “Here We, Steelers, Here We Go,” they can also be identified by their constant cursing of the foul day Steely McBeam flounced into being.
San Diego Chargers—You miss the days when the Raiders were based in Los Angeles. Sure, it’s still a heated division rivalry, but it’s lost the added charge of proximity. Plus, back then you only needed to drive two hours home—instead of eleven—with a silver-and-black-handled switchblade stuck in your kidney.
San Francisco 49ers—I made sure to double-check my Big Book of Regional Stereotypes, and being a denizen of San Francisco must mean you’re almost certainly gay. This makes ’80s nostalgia somewhat problematic for you. On the one hand, the 49ers were in the midst of a dynasty. On the other hand, it was the height of the AIDS epidemic. I guess that makes it kind of a wash.
Seattle Seahawks—The trusty moleskine pocket journal of the Seahawk fan holds the preciously written narrative of his inner tumult. Words like weltschmertz and anomie crop up a few dozen times. It is half-filled with frenzied, nonsensical tirades about Super Bowl XL, with the rest consisting mainly of recipes for vegan polenta and Sleater-Kinney lyrics. Even when they cheer, it sounds as though they’re crying.
St. Louis Rams—You welcome any distraction during the months when baseball isn’t in season and you find hockey to be, well, hockey. You’d be much more inclined to pull for the Rams if only the NFL Shop would allow you to order a team jersey with Pujols on the back. And by that, I mean the Cardinal first baseman’s name and not actual poo holes. Those you must cut out yourself.
Tampa Bay Buccaneers—Though the pewter uniforms have brought a reasonable degree of success, and even a Super Bowl title, you secretly long for the sherbet orange duds of yore. Sometimes, late at night, you envision a moonlit stroll on the beach with Bucco Bruce. Just make sure he removes the dagger from his teeth first. That thing is not the greatest bedroom accessory. That feathered hat, however, is another story. Tickles the balls in a most pleasing way. Uh, at least that’s what I hear.
Tennessee Titans—You’re among the best in the league in mobile meth lab tailgating. Which would come in handy if you attended any Titans games. But that would interfere with a life spent entirely outside Neyland Stadium, whether or not the Vols are playing. A shame, because Kerry Collins would drink your whole tailgate under the table.
Washington Redskins—As perennial Off-season Champs, the Redskins dominate the headlines between the months of March and August for their daring and, more often than not, extravagant free agent acquisitions. These free agents are typically of the faded decrepit sort. A recent history of this continually not working out for the best does not deter the Burgundy and Gold faithful from proclaiming that each
of these signings (2009’s foolishly bloated new contract: Albert Haynesworth) signals a return to glory for the ’Skins. Those fans who don’t cheer on the emptying of Dan Snyder’s checkbook are sure to be mauled by Snyder lapdog Vinny Cerrato.
II.3 The Memory of Your Team’s Epic Playoff Loss Will Set the Tone for All Your Future Personal Failures
Your favorite team will scar you. By that, I don’t mean minor emotional fissures you can bury beneath your everyday troubles. I mean deep-seated emotional scars that only manifest themselves in crying jags after premature ejaculation.
For every fond football memory, there will be countless others that make you retire to the broom closet to weep and curse your creator for your unshakeable emotional dependence on your favorite team. It stands to reason that each year there can only be one Super Bowl champion, meaning the fans of the other thirty-one teams, no matter how positive a spin they try to put on the outcome of their season, are mired in disappointment and despair. That’s a lot of suffering. That’s even more Valium.
Most fans find a way to handle it, to push the pain down so deep into the recesses of their minds that it only reveals itself as message board vitriol and sublimated aggression toward busboys at chain restaurants. For those who can’t, it’s an eternity of reliving events that were never in your control in the first place. That guy sitting on the street corner mumbling about Jackie Smith can tell you all about it. It’s re-creating the offending memory in a video game and finding no satisfaction when you simulate a different outcome, knowing how hollow and false it is.
II.3. A THE MOST EPIC CHOKES
An epic, gut wrenching loss can lead to a lifelong complex that forces you to push aside your mommy issues and trace blame for all of life’s stumbles to that fateful day. The sad truth is that there is no way to avoid this. You chose to become a fan and will accept the emotional degradation that comes with it.
Take, for instance, these epic big game bed-shittings that have wreaked havoc on the psyches of fans over the years.
Wide Right—The list of Bills memorable postseason failures is long and illustrious, though none are more iconic than Scott Norwood’s missed field goal at the end of Super Bowl XXV. Buffalo, of course, went on to lose the next three Super Bowls, none of which were close, meaning this proved to be the Bills best chance at an elusive championship. Norwood played another season then retired to become a real estate agent, which is a lot less interesting than a transsexual murderer bent on revenge. Thanks for distorting our expectations of reality, Ace Ventura movies.
Laces Out—January is the cruelest month for Tony Romo. And December ain’t much better. Yup, the Cowboys haven’t won a playoff game in thirteen years. In a 2006 playoff game, the Cowboys were attempting a gimme 19-yard field goal that would have won the game over the host Seahawks, but the star quarterback botched the snap and fell short of the goal line after he tried to run with the ball, thus handing the Seahawks a victory and touching off a dazzling series of late-season Cowboys collapses that have brought endless joy to the masses.
Red Right 88. The Drive. The Fumble.—The postseason woes of the Cleveland Browns can be summed up in three handy phrases, all under the rubric “Epic Fail.”
1992 Houston Oilers—The Oilers led the eventual conference champion Bills 35–3 at one point in the third quarter of a wild-card playoff game, only to drop the game in OT. The franchise would return the heartbreak seven years later as the Tennessee Titans (the relocated Oilers), pulling off the Music City Miracle last-second kick return to beat the Bills in the wild-card round en route to an agonizingly tight Super Bowl loss of their own. Yes, there’s plenty of pain to go around.
Super Bowl III—The Baltimore Colts were 18-point favorites against a Jets team from an AFL league nobody took seriously, featuring wildly sideburned quarterback Joe Namath, who was just beginning to cut a drunken swath of destruction on vaginas across the nation that continues to this day, though now more often with sideline reporters than Farrah Fawcett. The oddsmakers didn’t learn their lesson about the AFL, as the Vikings were 12-point favorites the following year and fell to the Chiefs in Super Bowl IV.
1990s Chiefs Teams—The Chiefs had the second-most wins of any team in their conference during this decade, clinched home-field advantage twice, and failed to make the Super Bowl even once. Both times they held the top seed in the conference during the ’90s, they lost their first playoff game. Even Joe Montana and Marcus Allen couldn’t get them over the hump, thus illustrating the otherworldly potency that is the Chiefs’ failure juju.
1998 Vikings—It’s not that the Vikings were defeated by a vastly inferior opponent. The victorious Falcons, at 14-2, were only a game behind Minnesota in the standings. The choke comes when you factor in that Vikings kicker Gary Anderson had his only missed field goal of the season, which would have won the game in regulation. A shame, as this turned out to be Dennis Green’s best opportunity at getting his ass crowned.
2001 St. Louis Rams—The Greatest Show on Turf came in as defending champs and 14-point favorites against a Patriots team coached by Bill Belichick that was somehow remotely likeable. Because this was the first Super Bowl after 9/11, people made a big deal about a team named the Patriots winning. Because people are mawkish and simpleminded.
18-1—Undefeated juggernaut New England Patriots (or Greatriots, as their fans would tell you) beaten by Eli Manning. Or rather, the Giants dominant defensive line, but a Manning has to get credit for everything.
There are but a few ways to deflect this mental anguish before it claims dominion over you. Unless you have the option of buying the team and chucking all the offending players and coaches, it’s always going to be an indirect kind of relief. There’s the always reliable reassurance that your team will be back next year. It’s the great loser standby, a mantra necessary to repeat to yourself when it becomes evident that your team has no real shot at a title, but you need to believe the next season holds the promise of great things to come, when in fact it’s a total crapshoot at best.
In truth, the only way for this pain to ever subside is for your team to win a championship. Once that happens, all the accumulated torment from years of coming up short is neatly washed away. Unfortunately, the acquisition of this title may take years, if it ever happens at all. Hell, nearly half the teams in the league have never won a Super Bowl.
Until that day arrives, any number of strong sedatives should keep you from nose-diving off the tallest building you can find. Matt Jones can recommend a few.
II.4 Choose a Player to Idolize Based on His Carefully Crafted Public Persona
Selecting a player to idolize isn’t anywhere near as significant as finding a team to worship, but it certainly makes things easier with the all-important jersey purchasing process. But worry not, fanboys. Once you do finally land on a team, there are many personality types from which to choose.
Obviously, the type of player who appeals to you is somewhat subjective. It doesn’t necessarily have to be your team’s best player. In fact, last year ESPN conducted a poll asking fans to pick the greatest player in the history of each franchise, and Ravens fans chose Matt Stover. The fucking kicker! Fortunately, not everyone is as mentally deficient as Ravens fans, so there’s probably a good chance you won’t fall head over heels for a player who could get pushed around by the water boy.
The dynamics of a team dictate that there are a number of vital personality roles that must be filled. Do you like the big hitter who jars the ball loose from the defender and stands astride over his downed enemy? The defensive end who has trouble leaving his aggression on the field? The flashy receiver with the elaborate touchdown celebrations and the endorsement deal with BlackBerry. His e-mails indicate that he sent them to you from the end zone!
The Stoically Prickish Leader—Possessing an odd combination of a stiff upper lip and a massive ego, he is the face of the franchise. As such, he makes a big deal of dutifully watching nearly as much game tape as Ron Jaworski and overriding the
head coach’s decisions. When this pays off, he’s fawned over by the media endlessly. When it doesn’t, he’s often seen glowering on the sideline and throwing teammates under the bus to the press. If you love athletes that endorse all the products you buy, he’s the one for you. (See: Peyton Manning.)
The Media Darling—From what your TV tells you about these guys, you’d think they pissed rainbows and shat unicorns. A negative word will never be uttered of the media darling by a studio analyst or play-by-play announcer. If this player does, in fact, commit a blunder, the broadcasters will fall over themselves to soft-peddle and explain away the mistake. You’ll adore the media darling if you’re one of those people who uncritically digests whatever the media tells them, which is pretty much the entire country. (See: Tom Brady, Brett Favre, Tony Romo.)
The Meast—So named for the late Redskins safety Sean Taylor, who was described as a half man and half beast, the meast is an athletic whirlwind, the player who is simply far and away better than anyone else on the field. The only downside to the measts, if there is one, is that as people they aren’t terribly interesting. They never really get in trouble on or off the field, never issue any headline quotes. They just go out and dominate. That can be kind of boring sometimes. (See: Adrian Peterson, Brian Westbrook, Michael Turner, Larry Fitzgerald.)
The “Scrappy” Player—A white guy who plays a position usually dominated by black players (receiver, running back, defensive back) with a modicum of success. Lauded for his “deceptive speed” and his supposedly indefatigable spirit, the scrappy player makes up with mainstream media support what he lacks in natural talent. Patriots fans wish their entire team was composed of these guys. If you’re a big fan of Elvis, the Rolling Stones, and rap-rock, you’ll love the scrappy player. (See: Wes Welker, Kevin Curtis, Reed Doughty, Zach Thomas, John Lynch.)
The Football Fan's Manifesto Page 3
