There seems to be a connection between professional sports and a certain euphoria we get from our teams. Sometimes we experience the highs and some times, the lows. We experience this rush of adrenaline, emotion, and endorphins that work us up into a frenzy not seen since Bruce Banner and The Incredible Hulk
Call it what you will. But we all pay some amount to maintain this feeling on a weekly basis. Some pay to enjoy it in the safety of their home while various others dish out numerous amounts at the stadium to get their fix. During tailgating and the game.
And just because one lays out more from their wallet does not mean their high is any better. We all experience the same roller coaster ride of emotions equally no matter we each pay out.
We as fans get a rush from attending a game. Sometimes the drug kicks in at tailgating. Firing into a frenzy before the fireworks go off in the stadium. By the time inside, the high is contagious it spreads to everyone. When the action starts, its phase two. Riding its ups and downs like a bad acid trip. Not knowing if it will end in a high or low.
But we come back for more. They always know we will. Every time. At times we know the disappointment but we want to be surprised. Let the win sneak up on us. The rush is better that way instead of being fed it slowly through an IV.
For a long time it seemed the fans mattered. The teams seem to know our pulse and at times, act accordingly. The NFL treats the rest like addicts, knowing no matter their urge they will always tune in and be sucked into another Sunday vortex of advertising and football.
We all have a vice. That one item that draws us in like a vacuum and we let it take us to our own personal state of euphoria. But those who know what their audiences vice is, they exploit it to no end. No matter the bad trip they throw at you, you keep focused wondering when the ride will get better. Chasing the dragon in hopes of catching it.
Eventually we do, we grasp it hard and take pride in the accomplishment. Knowing that our hard work and dedication to not only our team, but the sport we love will pay off. Pumping our endorphins to heights we rarely see. Rejoicing with others while sporting our warriors victorious colors.
There was a time when the fans voice really mattered. When we could be heard before the marketing and advertising became louder and more dominant. When it was the AFL against the NFL, they did everything they could to keep their fans. The same needs to be done now.
We can see past the blinders they choose to acknowledge. We know the difference between a quality product and when someone is trying to sell us a bill of goods. The NFL is selling us baby powder instead of the high quality product they usually serve us each week.
We had a chance. The fans and the critics had a chance to make a mark on the NFL. But they knew their mistake long after we saw it pass us weeks ago. Even with a deal made, reputations in the NFL are tarnished. The NFL needs the Army as a clean up crew. They re lazied it one blown call too late. Ask Green Bay.
The fans collective conscious will never let the NFL forget the mistakes they made. Not just to them, but to the players as well for creating havoc and stress in the workplace. It seems the NFL offices are up just high enough in NYC where screams only come across as faint whispers, making it hard to hear the problems until it is too late.
And that, I think, was the handle – that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of old and evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we as fans never look towards that. The referees only wanted to work. Our energy would simply prevail. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. Using social media to voice displeasure and create a wave of force to be heard.
But now, driving on Route 3 East towards NYC, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark, that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back allowing the NFL to remain dominant and make all the right calls.