(editor's note: Yeah, we're switching to football, because why the hell not?)
If there is a pattern - and we've already established that there is decidedly NOT (though moving the mouth is fun) - then it probably isn't quite as fun to be on the roller-coaster. The twists and turns, if predictable, are only slightly less intense. After all, who cares when the loop-der-loop hits? When it happens, you're still shocked senseless.
There's no more institutional continuity, and if there is, it means nothing. Football teams succeed on "tradition" as much as LSU players succeed on books. The guy that came before you is just the guy that ain't here anymore. In this climate, separation comes rarely, and has to be micro-managed. Fans seem to have an inside track to how this is accomplished, but they are almost always wrong, and definitely always are dumb. "DUDE, JUST GET VINCENT JACKSON AND THIS OFFENSE IS SET!" And, ham-wich.
I do, however, enjoy a luxury that I fully admit is more cosmetic than substantive. I happen to pull for an organization that has effectively removed greed as a main operator of success. That means nothing when/if #12 gets concussion number four, but it helps clarify emotions, at least. An example is the Purple... they can run a dog-shit team out there (and they do), but Mr. New Jersey still banks cash and reinvests it into mini-malls. Then, when the team comes off a 3-13 season in which the fattest players look the best, the politicians in the state (who have really liked football since they've been fans... about 5 weeks now) vote to give him billions. Hey, it all makes sense. And in 3 years when they go back into the first round to reach for Rodgers' brother, or whoever, the fans' displeasure will be tainted by the economic reality that 1) their money still flows to Zigg, and 2) they are married to this idea forever and ever.
So, with a limited amount of moving parts, you can only ever hope that the tumblers line up and you strike it rich for one glorious season. That's the fleeting nature of the NFL. And that's why so many are drawn to it, like moths to a bonfire. We go back and forth on if "dynasties" are good for sports, or football, or whatever. But nothing hooks a fan-base into their team like the Big Run. Christ, they're probably still selling gear at the Packers Pro Sh- yep, still got em. And so it matters not if this "design" has anything to do with success of the league as a whole, because the league doesn't operate as an entity. They pass the plate around and everyone gets to take a cookie out. Shit, that sure beats having to cheer against the Red Sox or Yankees every. fucking. year.
Ok, so what's the point of all this?
I'm on another wave here. We crested, and now it's a slow roll up the beach. The way I can give this language is to remind you that yes, I have been through this before. Here's the breakdown:
1. You Hit It Big, And Everyone Is A God
Dear me, did I love Eric Walden in 2010. And Howard Green? HALL OF FAMER. I took a shot to Crabtree that night, and I didn't feel bad about it. It was flowing like cherries, and everyone got a sip of that bubbly. When it all comes together, there is such a sense of happiness that it blots out any other considerations you could ever have. It's a singular moment, one that you wait for years to achieve, and then it happens, and it's a white wash of light.
2. Little Pieces (Who Stepped Up Big) Go Somewhere Else Where They Will Be Paid Like Big Pieces, Even Though They Are Not Very Good
Hey Arizona, how's Darren Colledge working out? Hey Cleveland, you're welcome to Brandon Jackson. Nice to see Brett Swain still pulling them in in San Fran. The point is that inevitably, you can't keep all the pieces, because they all get instantly more expensive. So you lose the "glue" guys. And that's fine, because they aren't really the crux of the team... but they contribute. And replacing them with equal pieces isn't a foregone conclusion.
3. Heads Swell
Last year, I wrote this sentence to my attorney:
My point is that if *I* am reading this stuff, and getting a little amped up, what do you think Charles Woodson is doing? Do you think that Charles Woodson, the only player to ever win the Heisman, DPOY and a Super Bowl, just sits at home, sees TRAVIS BECKUM open his mouth, and does nothing?
Oh, how confident I was. Oh, the banner would fly again.
OOOOOOOPS.
4. You Keep Me Hanging On
This is where we are now. Is Rodgers good enough to keep this team in the Fat and Giggly for the next 5 years? Sure. I watched this happen from 1999-2003. Quarterback is good enough to win 10 games a year. Rest of the team doesn't care. Go to playoffs, lose, come back the next year confident. But when you don't have that team coming together under the right conditions, and you don't have everything click at the right time, and when you sign - oh god - Cedric Benson, you are doing what dogs do when they jump in the lake.
5. Nice To See You, Felt. It's Been Too Long.
It doesn't end with the felt. It didn't end in 2005. It just gives you higher draft picks. The bottom rushes up to meet every team, at least once a decade. It helps restore balance, if anything. Because, soon after...
6. Beautiful Surface
The turnaround comes only when the team accepts it will go no further under the current direction. Once that commitment is made, a child could turn the team around. Draft strong, stay young, get a coach to kick everyone in the ass. How can you not win it all?
7. The End Is The Beginning Is The End
The circle closes, and you buy another jersey. Cycle complete.... enjoy it.
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And so, we embark down another hard-banking turn. We know where this coaster will take us, but we still thrill in the ride. It happens so quickly, but you always forget that first dive when the ride finishes.
But that's ok... when you are heading up the hill next time, you'll remember.
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