Not since 1988 has a professional sport team that I claim fandom for been in a finals or championship scenario. This, of course, could be attributed to bad taste or bad luck on my part – or the teams that I proudly endorse.
Back then my family lived in Ohio, and, as any proper father would, I was introduced to football. The team of my admiration, the Cincinnati Bengals, whose offense was helmed by my hero, quarterback Boomer Esiason. For those of you keeping score at home, yes – he is the namesake of my dog.
At the tender age of 7 (almost 8), I watched as Boomer and the Bengals battled the NFC favorites, the San Francisco 49ers, in Super Bowl XXIII. In the final 3:10 , Joe Montana ruined everything.
Sure, being exposed to such pain and loss at such an early age could, perhaps, lead to some developmental problems later in life, but misery is relative. One cannot know the sweetness of victory without first tasting the bitterness of defeat.
A powerful lesson to learn at such an impressionable age, and since that time, I’ve tried to reflect upon it as many a team of mine has floundered more than flourished. Again, I try.
While football of the American variety is my one true sport of sports, recently I was brought into the world of basketball and the Oklahoma City Thunder. My sister had asked me to join in her support of the team, and I obliged.
Obviously, I’ve enjoyed more than most of this year – and it wasn’t even a full season of basketball.
The result of the third game in the Thunder and Miami Heat series was not known at the time of publication. The series was tied 1-1, with the third game being the first hosted by the Heat.
In this best-of-seven series, it’s still anyone’s to win (injuries not withstanding).
The football off-season is the worst time of year. In the past, basketball has offered me little relief, arguably because I never had a true team affiliation to embrace. But the sport as a whole has failed to captivate me as much as football.
Until this year, that is. Until I embraced the clap of Thunder.
More than most NBA Finals in recent memory, this almost David vs. Goliath matchup speaks volumes about the coming years in professional basketball.
This is the thrill and love of the game for the fan. Though I’m still getting used to the rigors of best-of-seven game series, having such captivating displays of athleticism and storylines are what keep us engaged while we try to escape the rigors of our own lives. In victory, even in loss, a solace is had.
There is little consolation in those words to the fans of teams not competing in the Finals, harsher still perhaps to those who still remember the Seattle Supersonics and miss them dearly. At the end of the day, however, it is just a game and it should be enjoyed.
What frightens me more than anything is what I’m going to do when it’s all over. Football is months away.
Reach the reporter at jbfortne@asu.edu.
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