I'm Going Down to the Central Part of Town

As part of my ongoing quest to fully elucidate my reasons for continuing to support the Cowboys and Rangers despite the fact that I now live in a city that is home to teams in each of those respective sports, more particularly the Texans and the Astros, I submit the following argument from Mr. Will Leitch.

From pg. 236 of God Save the Fan...

It's a full-time position, rooting for a football team [baseball team, jai-alai team, curling team, nursing home shuffleboard team, etc.]...so how am I just supposed to say, "All right, yesterday I cared about these players, but now I care about these"? If something as silly as geography guides your rooting interests, isn't it wishy-washy to move your loyalty around just because someone realized the franchise could make more money in Boise rather than Topeka? Yes, it's a corporation you're rooting for, but they're your corporation. There's nothing rational about it; being a sports fan never has anything to do with being rational.


[Leitch is from central Illinois and grew up as a fan of the St. Louis football Cardinals who now play in Arizona] But what about the St. Louis Rams, you ask? Yeah, what about them? The Rams came to St. Louis in 1995. I simply did not understand why St. Louis fans transferred their loyalty. Sure, owner Bill Bidwill had left St. Louis for what was presumed to be the greener pastures of Tempe. But how does that change my life? Sure, a sports team can offer civic value to a city, but not just out of nowhere. The reason the St. Louis Cardinals are a fixture in the city is because families like mine have patterned their entire [this seems a BIT strong] social structures around them for decades. How can a team just show up and suddenly have devoted fans?

And as for "abandoning" a city...please. On the whole, NFL teams and their fans live in the same city about, oh, twenty-seven days a year. A team and its fans have as much in common as your hand and that vending machine. It's all sentiment. And I don't get to be angry about Bidwill and company leave St. Louis; hell, I don't live there anymore either.

So the only way to be honest with oneself is to pick a team and stick with them. Sure, I wish I had picked a better team, but true fans stay around, no matter what; people from Houston should root for the Titans, people from Charlotte should root for the Hornets, and people from Minnesota should root for the Dallas Stars. Otherwise, you're the one who's disloyal. You're just following whomever it is convenient to follow.

I know that I still fully support the Tyler Wildcatters (yes, Dorothy, they have a Wikipedia page), wherever they might be in the vast universe that is minor league baseball.

[The words in the brackets above are solely those of yours truly]

Living on the Road is Getting Pretty Old

In what will almost certainly lead to the premature downfall of America's Team, here's an attempt to articulate my hopes for the remainder of the NFL campaign. I've written before about my belief, along with that of millions of other sports fans, regarding my ability to affect the outcome of sporting events.

Slightly delusional? Likely.

Uncommon? Hardly.

With that said, despite the vitriol and outright hatred that has been directed at the New England Patriots over the course of this season, I wish them well until February 3, 2008. In much the same way as that 2006 Rose Bowl victory by the 'Horns was much more satisfying because it involved such a dominant U.S.C. squad, a possible (dodging lightning bolts) Cowboys victory in Super Bowl XLII over an 18-0 Patriots team would be incredibly satisfying.

Sure, the Pats have had their share of close calls recently, but much like a college football team that eventually wins the national title (see 1997 Nebraska Cornhuskers), they have escaped those encounters unscathed and have the faint appearance of a team of destiny. I'm sure that by committing my internal hopes to the unchangeable medium of the internet, I have somehow insured that in the next few weeks T.O.'s knee will explode in a grisly scene that only Joe Theismann could respect or that America's Team will fall in the NFC playoffs to a team in Minnesota led by one Tarvaris Jackson, and if that is the case, I'll go into the witness protection program with Steve Bartman and become, in the words of the immortal Emmitt Smith, an "escape goat."

If the knee of Mr. Owens remains intact for a run towards a possible meeting with the Patriots, and the 'Boys actually conquered Belichick's undefeated minions, wouldn't that have to rank right up there with the best Super Bowl storylines of all-time?

• Would Bill Belichick's head explode on national television?
• Would Troy Aikman begin openly rooting for his former team during the Fox Broadcast?
• Would Joe Buck constantly bring up Randy Moss's former "mooning" of Packers' fans in an opportunity to remind America that he decried that celebration as a "disgusting act"?

The possibilities are endless my friends.

I realize that by writing all of this, I have fallen victim to the current culture of generating hype regarding something that may never come to pass, but if it does happen, you already know of one Cowboys fan that would not complain at all.

They Send You Off to College, Try to Gain a Little Knowledge

I've never been a fan of Brent Musberger's, but last night, my dislike for the man who fancies himself the voice of college football reached a new high. When it became apparent that the Dark Side (see Sooners, Oklahoma) were going to defeat the (briefly) #1 Missouri Tigers in the Big XII Championship game and the West Virginia Mountaineers had already fallen to their bitter rivals, the Pitt Panthers, Musberger and his cohort, Kirk Herbstreit, turned to the topic that has been passed around more than blame for Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction": The BCS v. a playoff system

The pros and cons of the subject have already been beaten into the ground (my esteemed colleague Lance Agan recently laid out his playoff dream), so I will spare you a recitation of those arguments. Instead, I would like to respond to the response of Musberger and Herbstreit to the pro-playoff argument. Well, I would except for the fact that they dismissed such an argument with a hand wave and four simple words: "It will never happen." You would have thought that they were responding to a presentation from the Flat Earth Society or People for Lindsey Lohan Adopting a Healthy Lifestyle (To my knowledge this is not a real group, but it certainly should be).

Unless Kirk and Brent are privy to some highly-classified position paper from the college football powers that be on the subject, I would advise them to avoid speaking in absolutes. Under the system that they cherish, the college football fanbase will have to watch a matchup between a 1-loss team and a 2-loss team to determine the National Championship. What's that you say? Isn't there at least one undefeated team left in Division I-A?(I refuse to call it the Football Bowl Subdivision)

For their flawless run thus far the Hawaii Warriors only receive an invitation to take on the Georgia Bulldogs in the Sugar Bowl. In every other NCAA-sanctioned sport, the Warriors would have the opportunity, albeit a difficult one, to win the championship. For now, they must settle for the (probably accurate) assessment that their schedule is far too soft to allow their undefeated record to stand as a compelling argument for their inclusion on the biggest stage that college football has to offer.

Don't get me wrong, I would love to see LSU quarterback and Tyler native Matt Flynn bring home a National Championship for the Tigers instead of the Buckeyes, but such a matchup just seems light years away from the mythical duel between the 'Horns and the Trojans on January 4, 2006.

I guess they just don't make them like they used to.

Now They Make New Movies in Old Black and White

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, all of those who have passed through the great tribulation, I welcome you to the day after.

"The day after what?" you might be asking yourself. Simple. The day after the supposed NFL Network imposed apocalypse was going to descend upon our nation like fans of the Grateful Dead converging on a midnight veggie burrito vendor. If you took the prudent advice of the brains behind Prosso Speaks, you either went to a friend's house or a sports bar to watch last night's battle between Texas and Wisconsin. Me? I took the former option instead of standing way too close to strangers in a Waco Buffalo Wild Wings for 4 hours.

With all that said, what was the quality of the product from NFL Network? The game itself (which is obviously the most important facet) was an intriguing back and forth matchup featuring an injury to the league's most recognizable player (see Favre, Brett), an almost devastating miscue by one of the game's best receivers (Memo to Mr. Owens: Perhaps buttery popcorn is not the best thing to throw on yourself in the midst of a touchdown celebration if you still need to play another half of football), and ultimately a 10-point win by the Cowboys that will go a long way towards clinching home-field for the NFC playoffs, or as I'm going to call it, "The Quest to Take Down the Great Satan in the Desert". It's a bit wordy, but it will grow on you.

The most notable downside to the broadcast? Bryant Gumbel sounded like he was hosting "Antiques Roadshow" instead of the first NFL matchup between 10-1 teams in 17 years. I realize that years of hosting a sports show on HBO might do a bit to dull your enthusiasm in the booth, but I'm pretty sure that the immortal Gus Johnson could have generated more excitement than Gumbel if he was stuck announcing orders at Sonic than Gumbel produced during one of the marquee games during the '07-08 NFL season.

Speaking of great moments in sports broadcasting:

• The aforementioned Gus Johnson during the 2006 Sweet Sixteen matchup between UCLA and Gonzaga.
  
  
• The immortal (at least in Texas) ending between Plano East and Tyler John Tyler in the 1994 5A State Football Playoffs. This is exactly why people from Texas are mocked throughout the country, and I love every minute of it.


• Martin Tyler verbalizes his man-crush on Steven Gerrard after the Liverpool skipper equalizes in the 90th minute of the 2006 F.A. Cup Final.


• Finally, the world-famous call by Al Michaels during "The Miracle on Ice"
  

Steal My Heart and Hold My Tongue

Congratulations to Mr. Stephen Baker, the man behind Poseur, for naming "Fake Tales of San Francisco" by the Arctic Monkeys as the Wednesday Song of the Day. Stephen's post yesterday regarding the spring training hopes of Orioles fan looks very similar to something that I might compose as a Rangers fan.


My good friend and former roommate Jonathan Smith said that he initially thought yesterday's Liverpool post was going to be a baseball post, but I've been thinking about writing something about the Rangers for a few days now, but I just can't bring myself to do it right now. It's almost as if I have reverted back to the sports fan methodology that I utilized as a 3rd grader.


See, in the summer of 1993, I was 9 years old and I had just discovered the greatness that was the Chicago Bulls. As you will remember, this season was the final piece to the initial 3-peat, but in the NBA Finals the Bulls were up against a very tough Phoenix Suns team. This was the season that Charles Barkley won the MVP, thereby infuriating the ultra-competitive Michael Jordan. When I sat down to watch the Bulls battle the Suns in the NBA Finals I had a fool-proof method to ensure victory. You might ask yourself, "What 3rd grader has the cognitive ability to influence the outcome of a game that is taking place at least a thousand miles from his home?" Well, I did. Or at least I thought I did.


I was utterly convinced that if I wore my Bulls hat with pinstripes and a black bill, they could not lose. If you're struggling to picture the hat, think of the hat that Indy's sidekick wore in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. You know, the kid who ran around saying, "Dr. Jones!!" That kid.


Anyway....I had worn my hat during the entire Eastern Conference Finals as the Bulls defeated the hated New York Knicks, but for some reason, I did not wear the hat during the first 3 games of the series, because I believed the Bulls were going to dominate the Suns. After Phoenix's 129-121 triumph in Game 3, I grew a bit nervous. I donned the hat again for MJ's 55 point performance in Game 4, but I guess I grew a bit too confident because I took the hat off again for Game 5, which was a 108-98 Phoenix victory.


Here's where things got dicey. The series was headed back to Phoenix with the Bulls holding a tenuous 3-2 lead. If you're asking yourself how a little kid could get this wrapped up in a sporting event, just remember this, I cried when the Cowboys were losing 13-6 to the Bills at halftime of Super Bowl XXVIII. This mattered. I knew that I would have to summon up all of my powers to help MJ, Scottie, Horace, Phil, and the boys defeat the Suns. The hat went on my head at beginning of Game 6 and didn't come off until John Paxson's game winning 3 with 3.9 seconds left.
I say all that to say this: I somehow still believe that if I can alter the outcomes of sporting events by things that I do. I know that sounds crazy. You might even say irrational, but somewhere in my psyche, it makes sense. I'm choosing not to write about the Rangers because when I've written about them in the past, things have gone oh so badly.


I've been watching the Rangers since...well, since I could focus on a television. I still remember trying to watch games at Arlington Stadium and realizing that a dark-blue backstop is a terrible thing to stare at from a centerfield camera. I've watched Palmeiro, Sierra, Kevin Brown, Pete Incaviglia, Pudge, Juan, Kevin Elster, Charlie Hough, Nolan Ryan, Kenny Rogers, A.Rod, Hank, Tex, and Michael. I know that we don't have the tortured history of the Red Sox, but in our case, I just wish that I knew what playoff heartbreak felt like. Oh, and don't tell me that those series in the late 90's were "playoff heartbreak". That was something closer to the word "streamrolled."


Here's all I'm asking: Don't break my heart again by tanking in August. I want to know what the pennant race feels like. I want to be able to call my friends and talk about what a genius or moron that Ron Washington is. That's all I'm asking for. Now, that's not too much, is it?