NFL
A heartbreak ending to a season hurts. All heartbreaks hurt. The San Francisco 49ers just lost in the NFC Championship game to the Philadelphia Eagles. One win away from a Super Bowl berth, yet the win could not be further away.
I went thru the five stages of grief.
1) Denial – “We can come back! If only Shanahan threw that challenge flag on the Devonta Smith “catch.” It is still a close game halfway thru the 2nd quarter. Our defense can win this game on its own. We can still beat the number one seed on the road with no healthy quarterback to throw the ball. It can still happen”
2) Anger – “How do the refs keep calling these soft penalties? That is garbage! How do you expect us to beat the refs and the Eagles! This is BULLSHIT!”
3) Bargaining – “What if we put McCaffrey in the Wildcat Offense? Just run the triple option like an Army-Navy game. We could get a pick six, some turnovers, and maybe Purdy can magically throw in the second half. It is not over yet!”
4) Depression – “Damn. The Niners are going to lose this game. There goes the season. I am not buying my celebratory ski goggles and champagne. Bummer.”
5) Acceptance – “We had a great season. The first ever narrative of Mr. Irrelevant (last person taken in the NFL Draft) and a rookie to maybe win a Super Bowl. The football gods did not have it for us. The cards were stacked against us. What else could I have hoped for with our 3rd and 4th string quarterbacks being injured. C’est la vie.”
That game was not a tragedy. A tragedy is Damar Hamlin suffering cardiac arrest on a nationally televised game for all the country to watch. To see players be absolutely shook that their brother may die on this field. A warped sense of realization that is the NFL going to play this game. But even that was not an ultimate tragedy. Hamlin was still tangled up in the life-or-death approach to sports. When one of his first questions in the hospital was “Did we win the game?” the doctors told him “Yes. You won the game of life.”
Fans too often contort the processing of the game into a mind pretzel. What if this, what if that? There are so many alternate universes that could have just gotten us a win. If Trey Lance did not go down in the 2nd game, if Jimmy G stayed healthy, if Brock Purdy stayed healthy, if Josh (that guy is still playing and for how many teams?) Johnson did not get concussed. We can go on and on.
But back to the pretzel. Pretzels are good. They can be crunchy and a nice little snack. You can get that doughy fancy Pretzel at the movie theater. That pretzel is just as salty and buttery as that movie popcorn you forgo because you wanted a frickin’ pretzel. But can you make a pretzel? Do you have the cooking skills and the delicacy of making an origami to execute a delicious pretzel? Do you even have the time to put in? No. You spend a buck at the gas station driving down highway 5 for a quick snack. Or you shell out a few more bucks to get your Ferrari movie theater pretzel.
That is life. You cannot have it all, but you need to feel blessed with the things you can get with minimal effort and cost. Comfort food is comforting, and you carry on with life. Sports are a joy and distraction from the harder journeys in life. We sit on our couches, escape the stress (or sadistically add to our stress) and enjoy professionals play their hearts out for our entertainment. And then the hope. You can have the cliché hope of “there is always next season.” Life continues and you along with it. That is the beauty of sports.
If you are still in the first four stages of grief, I leave you with three more nuggets (or is it a pretzel?) to chew on. The first is a poem from my favorite book Wooden. The second is a song about loving pain. And the third is the most moving conversation between Stephen Colbert and Anderson Cooper about grief.
A Parent Talks to a Child Before the First Game
This is your first game, my child. I hope you win.
I hope you win for your sake, not mind.
Because winning’s nice.
It’s a good feeling.
Like the whole world is yours.
But, it passes, this feeling.
And what lasts is what you’ve learned.
And what you learn about is life.
That’s what sports is all about. Life
The whole thing is played out in an afternoon.
The happiness of life.
The miseries.
The joys.
The heartbreaks.
There’s no telling what’ll turn up.
There’s no telling whether they’ll toss you out in the first five minutes or whether you’ll stay for the log haul.
There’s no telling how you’ll do.
You might be a hero or you might be absolutely nothing.
There’s just no telling.
Too much depends on chance.
On how the ball bounces.
I’m not talking about the game, my child.
I’m talking about life.
But, it’s life that the game is all about.
Just as I said.
Because every game is life.
And life is a game.
A serious game
Dead serious.
But that’s what you do with serious things.
You do your best.
You take what comes.
You take what comes
And you run with it.
Winning is fun.
Sure.
But winning is not the point.
Wanting to win is the point.
Not giving up is the point.
Never being satisfied with what you’ve done is the point.
Never letting up is the point.
Never letting anyone down is the point.
Play to win.
Sure.
But lose like a champion.
Because it’s not winning that counts.
What counts is trying.
Tribe Society – Pain Told Love ft. Kiesza (LYRICS)