Playoff tradition is to the Cardinals as a national library is to George W. Bush; as Avatar is to an unpredictable plot line; as Google is to privacy.

Cardinal euphoria swept the Valley like the bird flu, and it’s going to leave in a Lane Kiffin minute. Soon, you’ll even forget it was all just hype in the first place.

According to various Cardinal players and Kurt Warner’s wife, the Cardinals’ future will be decided in conversations with people upstairs.

Apparently Warner has scheduled a meeting with God in the next two or three weeks, but you never know if he’s tied up with the whole Haiti thingamabob.

The other meetings are with Cardinal management. They will have to decide what to do with Karlos Dansby, Anquan Boldin, Darnell Dockett, and Antrel Rolle either as restricted free agents, unrestricted free agents, and unhappy and want-to-be-traded, soon to be free-agents, among others. All of this with the Collective Bargaining Agreement (or lack thereof) situation looming.

Here is what will happen: God will tell Warner he needs more Jesus. Without Warner, the Cardinals’ will be in search of a legitimate franchise quarterback.

And because the Cardinals are the Cardinals, the Bidwills are the Bidwills, and Matt Leinart will be pledging Sigma Pi next fall, the quest will be the equivalent of sending Ned Flanders to Africa for a blood diamond.

The lack of a quarterback will lead to a quick descent back to NFL irrelevancy.

Boldin is already good as gone. Larry Fitzgerald will follow. Chris “Beanie” Wells will get injured. The offensive line will remain putrid for eternity, but that’s a given. The young core of raw, but good defensive athletes will sign elsewhere, get injured or, most likely, lose interest and underperform (see: Simeon Rice).

Without a Collective Bargaining Agreement that sets a minimum team salary, the Bidwill’s will have ample justification to go back to being the dollar store in a parking lot of Wal-Marts called NFL franchises.

Explaining Cardinal fandom is like the fine print in a prescription drug commercial. Yeah, an arm might fall off, you could grow a nipple with an eye attached to it, and there’s a good chance you’ll have a heart attack, inducing seizure.

Or maybe that’s a Mark McGwire prophecy.

But there will be no bitter pills swallowed by the faithful of what could have been, because Cardinal fever was all a mirage.

The Bidwills lucked into a placebo.

The Bidwills’ penny-wise philosophy has provided an easy excuse to sell your faith, or your tickets to a Cowboys, Raiders or 49ers fan.

Is it really possible to be a true Cardinals fan?

Unlike the traditional tragic comedy franchises of the East Coast and Midwest, there isn’t a history of dedicated misery to warrant a fan base identity.

There is a history of ineptitude, but there isn’t a demographic in the Valley willing to lay claim to it.

The Cardinal tradition is a quarter-century of apathy.

Kurt Warner will be in the Hall of Fame, but he’ll be best remembered as a Ram.

Ken Whisenhunt is the best coach the Cardinals have ever had, but this two year-run-and-gun is the antithesis of the Steeler brand. He’ll be gone soon enough, and Cardinals excitement will dry up as quickly as the real estate market.

When do the Cowboys come to Glendale again?

Reach the reporter at nick.ruland@asu.edu