I was lucky enough to be in a perfect location, very far away, when Michael Jordan faced off against Karl Malone and John Stockton for the second consecutive year in the 1998 NBA Championship.
As a Latter-day Saint missionary in Brazil, I heard the news of Jordan’s shooting as I was walking along a dusty road with a companion, long before the first shooting. A second and final dagger was thrust into the heart of the jazz fan. A few weeks later, her disappointed family members shared their stories of heartbreak.
I was able to immerse myself in sharing really good news with people around me. After returning home, I joked that at the time, my family seemed to be more saddened by the Jazz’s second loss to the Bulls in the finals than they were by my brother’s cancer diagnosis.
A mushroom cloud of disappointment seemed to hang over Utah for weeks. Despite the good times we had watching the “Postman” perform with the help of Stockton’s magic (including an epic triple-overtime victory over the Bulls in 1992), the long-standing That wasn’t unusual for jazz fans. I’ll never forget the 1993-94 season when Jordan briefly retired — a great year opened up. The Jazz had a 10-point lead over the Houston Rockets in the fourth quarter and should have cruised to an easy championship.
Instead, they blew the lead and the Rockets went on to win it all. “Maybe this is divine retribution for the number of fans who watched that game on Sunday?” I honestly remember thinking as a boy. After a particularly bad loss to the Jazz another season, I went to my dad in tears and asked him for some of the best advice he ever gave me.
Opening the Book of Mormon, the holy book of our faith, Dad paraphrased 2 Nephi 4 as follows: I don’t trust Karl Malone’s skills. For I know that he who puts his trust in the arm of flesh is cursed. Yes, cursed are those who trust in humans, or those whose arms are flesh. ”
That may sound silly to some, but it immediately comforted the pain in my young heart. It was really necessary. A while ago, I was lying on the floor watching the BYU men’s basketball team miss their last second shot. I burst into tears. I knew I would be facing some bullshit from my Utofan friends at school the next day.
Sadness in sports is real. We don’t just deal with sports injuries or retirement from competition.
Counselor Anthony Center writes about “sports fan depression” after suffering a major loss. Although not an officially recognized mental health condition, he noted how a strong emotional connection to the team naturally guides match results and can have a “significant impact” on the emotional state of fans. explain.
BYU and Utah State each have serious reasons for sadness this season, with the Utes facing their longest losing streak in years and the Cougars seeing football glory return to the heavens over the past two weeks. I’m dreaming about it.
One big basketball fan said his boss offered him a “bereavement day” after the Denver Nuggets lost in the playoffs last year, along with encouragement to apply Elizabeth Kluver-Ross’ stages of grief. This is a famous story that begins with a stage of denial: “That can’t happen” or “We’ll still find a way.” This stage even seems permanent among some fans (“We are still the best in the country – no matter what”) What they say! ”).
For the rest of us, the grieving process involves “what if” scenarios (“If only that player had done this…if only this coach had done that”). Unfortunately, in the past this has sometimes led to verbal abuse towards players and coaches online, jersey burnings, and even hidden threats or a desire to see someone get hurt.
Feelings of emptiness, loss of interest in other games, and disinterest in other activities may persist. It’s “sports blue” time. In the end, acceptance may follow, especially after losing enough as a team that, as Amber Lee writes, “injuring the jaw is the only option left.”
At this point, many fans have “accepted” the loss and have begun to re-evaluate the positives of the season, look for ways the team can improve, and look forward to other positives about the team’s future. are.
“Remember how much fun your team had during the season, the laughs you had, what happened during the fun and happy times during the season, and what happened during this particular Try to remember what you will always remember about the year.
For me, the excitement of Ty Detmer’s Cougars’ victory over No. 1 Miami in the 1990 season is still a fond memory, and the subsequent bowl loss has taken a backseat.
At some point, fans will begin to think more deeply about what it means to be a fan and connect with a team, which could lead to a “new and perhaps more balanced passion for the sport and the team.” That means you can reconsider how much heart and emotion you want to put into this in the future.
Dr. Senter recommends “taking a step back” to gain a broader perspective that puts the loss “in its place.” Taylor Bennett also spoke of the emotional value of rethinking “what’s really important in your life” and learning a “healthy distance” from sports. Perhaps choosing a fandom that repeats the classic mantra is “more relaxed and easygoing.” game. “
As I coached my sons’ basketball and soccer teams, I came to understand that these lessons learned from losing are some of the best things that can be learned from sports. Where else can boys and girls repeatedly learn the importance of humility, grace, tolerance, and respect for adversaries?
This kind of emotional resiliency is especially helpful for fans, especially since statistically they lose far more often than they win when it comes to championships. For example, of the 134 teams in Division I college football, exactly one team will win a championship this year. Since 1936, only 33 teams have won the championship. And of the 352 Division I men’s and women’s basketball programs, only 68 teams famously make it to the finals. In a tournament, only one person can come out on top.
But during his time in graduate school, the team’s surprising success still resulted in something worth celebrating when the Fighting Illini lost to North Carolina in the 2005 championship game. There was a surprising sense of unity in this once divided campus town, the likes of which I had never seen before. There were oranges everywhere!
Twelve of the NFL’s 32 teams have never won a Super Bowl. Two of those teams have never been to a Super Bowl (Lions and Browns) and two have never won four championships (Bills and Vikings). Similarly, 10 of the NBA’s 30 teams have never won a championship. Two of those teams have been to the Finals twice (Jazz) and three times (Suns).
We might all benefit from a little more realistic understanding of how difficult it is to win a championship. Sean Powell described Karl Malone and John Stockton as “arguably the greatest tandem to ever win the title,” before going on to say that this was “in fact an unfathomable feat.” Because with these two all-time greats, the Jazz have been a true contender for about 12 years.
In a perfect world, patient fans might wish there was a little more parity around championship magic (i.e. 6 rings, Jordan? 15 championships, Celtics? 18 championships, Alabama? 6 Super Bowls? Patriots?). Powell noted that while the Lakers have 17 titles, the other team in the city, the Clippers, “would be overjoyed with just one title.”
For some teams with long losing histories, like the Cleveland Browns, sadness can be described as a “perpetual state.” Our family never watched NFL football because ritualistic celebrations often coincided with the Sabbath. But I remember feeling sympathy for Jim Kelly and the Bills fans after they lost four straight Super Bowls in 1994.
If you want to learn how to lose better, why not spend some time with Denver Nuggets superstar Nikola Jokic? Nikola Jokic is a stoic philosopher disguised as an NBA player who likes to say after a loss, “Some games you win, and some you lose.” He said all this after his postgame press conference after one of last year’s biggest playoff losses. You basically have to be perfect to win the championship…we tried our best…if you want to win, you have to make the shots. ”
When asked if external factors were responsible for the losses, he always demurred. “Was it because of team fatigue?” one reporter wondered. “It wasn’t meant for any other team,” he said right away. “Sometimes it’s lucky, sometimes they want it more, sometimes we want it more. I think that’s why basketball is great, you never know what’s going to happen. ”
The pain of losing in sports as a fan is no longer the same for me. Eventually something changed within me. At a family dinner, in the midst of yet another raucous conversation about the Jazz’s postseason prospects, my brother-in-law turned to my wife and asked, “What do you think, Monique?”
As she stood there, she said with complete transparency: “I think it’s important… no problem at all.”
Everyone laughed at her brutal honesty. She’s probably right…most of the time. But I think she’s still missing something important. The fact that the outcome of a sport is so unimportant compared to the other burdens we carry may be what makes it such a comforting focus, at least momentarily. Within healthy limits, it’s probably good for our mental health too. And from a community perspective, coming together to support a common team is part of the magic of sports.
Some of this stoic, frugal philosophy certainly helped cleanse my palate as waves of Cougar fan grief hit me over the past few weeks. “To win a championship, you have to play like a champion.” I now watch games mainly to enjoy time with my sons and appreciate great performances anytime and anywhere. .
In the meantime, we try to spread the love. Joshua has roots with the Celtics, William with the Warriors, Joseph with the Suns, and Sam with the Lakers. Except when they’re playing the Jazz. When I’m not having fun highlights for the Aggies and Cougars, I love walking down the street cheering on my local Mt. Crest Mustangs. Witness up close the youthful intensity with which athletes give it all on the court. The best without breaking the bank.
“Did you see how that guy kept shooting after he missed the first five shots?” After watching the J-team’s last-minute victory last week, his son Joseph said, “It was better than the Jazz game. It was fun,” he said.
We are a long way from the glory days of the Utah Jazz tradition. However, we are having more fun at home than ever before.
