Welcome to the Sports Nihilist of Deadspin, where all is for naught and we are nothing more than accidental vibrations in the charged flesh of an indifferent universe glued to the face of a rock. screw you.
Now Damian Lillard asked to leave Portland, I felt liberated, but not for the reasons that make NBA writers rejoice. No, I feel this way because all illusions are gone. Movement is no longer an escape, Because I’m out of the fandom. It could be like someone killed my dog, or a close relative died, but I’m actually glad the best player in franchise history asked for a trade from the Blazers.
hope is for fools
I don’t care about assets, returns, Scoot Henderson, Shaedon Sharpe, or any other reason why this is the right move for the organization and Dame, because there’s nothing in the world that I care more about. I’ve done that with the Trail Blazers or any team. I’m not going to start all over again, I’m not vulnerable anymore. This proves that having hope is a very dangerous thing, possibly the most dangerous thing, so never put yourself in a position where your level is determined by the direction of the team, the result of the game or the loyalty of the players. Happiness.
Optimism is counterintuitive, and life is better when you are able to let go of your worries, needs, and desires. The only good thing about the coronavirus is that games are suspended. My mood no longer depends on which team is in season, which reassures me that I don’t need sports in my life.
In a cruel twist of fate, I now make a living covering sports—mainly “Never Met Your Heroes” stories—and I’m even more jaded. I wouldn’t say I hate sports, but they certainly aren’t as distracting as they used to be, nor do they bring me as much, if any, joy.
It was a Hallmark Channel moment when a coach walked into the locker room and gave an inspiring speech about all the values that the sport instills in people. Hard work, persistence, teamwork, physical fitness, all Dudley doing the right thing is great, but that’s not what fans are about.
The only thing fandom teaches you is how to be a home run and the downside of blind faith. I could get dragged over it, or be accused of being a bitter loser — both responses are valid given my tone — but you should be warned. The only effect fans have on a game is the noise of the crowd, so unless you’re on the field, even the most ardent supporters can’t give their team a better chance of winning.
Perhaps in time every sports fan will learn these lessons, accept them, and move on with no misconceptions about the inevitable gut thump other than when it happens or how much it stings. We’re all a bunch of masochists, or worse, optimists, wearing matching colors, watching adults play ball, rooting for team X or athlete Y, and convincing ourselves that next year is next year when they lose.
Thinking about how much time and energy I put into following my team makes my body sick. Sports fans are some of the angriest, sickest, and unhappiest people on the planet. What am I doing? Why am I not looking for a more traditional route to implementation? Adopt a child, or buy a dog, maybe both, and hope I die before that happens.
That or just not loving anything anymore.