Just about every year no matter which team you root for or which sport you follow, you’re going to end up a loser. Yet for all the media focus on winning championships very little attention is given to the much more common experience of dealing with defeat. And while losing for professional athletes is sometimes covered by the media, the pain of losing for a professional athlete is tempered to a great degree by the fact that their paychecks staunch the flow of their tears. But what about for the average fan, whose team is going to lose, and who will not be gaining any tangible compensation for this pain? This column isn’t intended to answer the never-ending question of why do we care so much about sports when we don’t play ourselves and probably don’t even know anyone playing, but rather to just talk about loss. In the immortal words of Bill Clinton, I’m the columnist who wants to feel your pain.

Coping with an end to the season has been on my mind this weekend because on Saturday I watched both the University of Tennessee and George Washington University lose in the second round of the NCAA Tournament. The two college basketball teams I root for were eliminated in two fell swoops within about five hours of one another on the same floor. And I viewed it all in person from my seat in the nosebleeds of the Greensboro Coliseum. (Incidentally if anyone can explain why the city of Greensboro felt the need to build an entire Coliseum despite not having any local team, I’d love to know. In an entirely unrelated note, I’ve heard that the Greensboro City Council is actually planning on passing a resolution calling for an ACC Basketball Tourney to be played every month). These losses left me utterly defeated…and hating the town of Greensboro, North Carolina with an irrational passion and misdirected blame. It also put me in the exact same position as the 269 fans whose teams never made the NCAA Tourney and the forty-nine other college basketball fanatics whose teams have also lost prior to reaching the Sweet 16 of this year’s tournament. But as I lay on the bed of my hotel room with the pillow covering my face, the absurdity of my caring so much was brought home by my wife, who said, “How in the world is your life going to be remotely different tomorrow?” When a sports fan is a sports-related funk, there is nothing worse than the cold hard slap of logic. But she was right, my life was really not going to be much different and this was a common refrain I had been hearing since I was old enough to care about my team losing.

As I wound my way back across North Carolina, through the Smoky Mountains, and then stopped for lunch in Asheville, North Carolina, I thought about all the ways I could have spent the weekend that wouldn’t have left me so disappointed. For instance I could have gone camping, watched Bring it On for the 321^st time, fished in a cool mountain stream, or even read nursery rhymes to orphaned children.

One of the five greatest films of all-time. Honestly.

I could have worked as a candy striper at a local hospital or given rides to hitch-hikers and taught neighborhood kids how to shoot bottle rockets at one another.

Is it just me or is this the scariest pseudo-erotic  picture you have ever seen in your life?

Instead, I watched two basketball teams filled with players I don’t personally know, lose, and got upset. And now I’m in sports loss recovery.

Since I’m the columnist who’s all about feeling your sports pain, I decided to craft a Deadly Hippos road-map for sports loss misery. While I am certain that its stages will not be identical to the pain and misery felt by every sports fan, I think the overlap is significant enough that everyone will find themselves somewhere. Of course, there are always skip-aheads, fans who are so optimistic that the moment their season ends, they’ve already sketched out the starting five for next season and are convinced only better things will arrive. If you’re a fan of a sports team, chances are you know one of these people. They don’t even have the decency to let you wallow in defeat at the end of a season. Well, those guys can skip the first twelve steps, they are far too healthy for you and I. Further, just because one of these steps doesn’t apply to you doesn’t invalidate it for others. Also, I’d be interested in other recommendations that deadlyhippos readers might have for their own omitted stages. Besides this list is here primarily so fans everywhere can know you are not alone. Without further ado:

1. If…

These are the two letters that have tortured and will torture the sports fan for all eternity. I can actually pinpoint the exact time I realized that in thinking about ifs, I was not alone. It was while riding home after Vanderbilt had beaten UT in basketball and Doug Roth (UT’s blind in one eye power forward) had just missed some key free throws. I had been sitting silently while replaying the loss in my mind when out of nowhere, my dad said something about every sports fan driving themselves crazy if they played the “what if game” for too long. I was only seven, but I remember being absolutely flabbergasted that everyone else did the same thing I did after games: replay the just passed game in search of a crucible moment that could have changed the outcome. Then I grew up and became a lawyer, which means I only deal in ifs. Irony can be a cruel mistress.

Unfortunately there were no athletic pictures of Doug Roth I could find. Instead here is a handy page that proves he truly existed. Also here is a picture of a dentist named Doug Roth who resembles what I recall Doug Roth looking like.

Picture him in rec specs and tell me this isn’t the man himself.

2. The refs, oh man, the refs.

They hate your team and my team, they really do. At night, they sit on their hotel bed in their striped pajamas and laugh themselves silly thinking that fans of x team really believe they have a chance at winning in the morning. Oh, if they only knew what was planned for the next day, these referees will say, while gleefully rubbing their palms together. It’s just so clear to the clear-eyed fan that this cabal of umpires, linesman, referees and time-keepers has been formed all for the very purpose of snatching victory from your team at the very moment when victory is theirs. How could those panty-waists with whistles be so biased and unfair?

3. The silent rage.

This phase arrives when everyone else wants to talk about the game and you want to strangle the next person who says anything at all because you have absolutely nothing left to say. Personally, at this point, I want to go to a dark room and be left alone. Others, I’ve known want to approach the head coach/starting running back/quarterback/point guard/third basemen and slap them until they admit they are fools and have personally wronged you with their errors. I’ve always loved the image of some bespectacled forty-five year old slapping a starting running back for his perceived transgressions. Is there anyway more certain to court death?

4. Sick to your stomach and can’t even bear the thought of the sport.

I was this way for most of the drive back from Greensboro. Even though NCAA Tournament games were going on all around me, I couldn’t bear to hear anything about basketball. I was the same way Saturday night about every other game as well. Also, there must be rigorous avoidance of sports scores and hi-lights lest you be forced to relive the defeat. (Exceptions are allowed for reviewing of sports hi-lights when still either gripped by the stage 1 what if’s or the stage 2 refs grief process.)

5. Refusal to read the paper or watch television.

As if your refusal to read about the game means it didn’t actually happen. For the record, I always read the paper because this brings the loss home. This is sort of like going out to the bar and seeing your ex-girlfriend with a new guy.  I have to read every word plus review the box score. The worst part of the newspaper after a loss is those annoyingly catchy headlines. For instance, immediately after Wichita State beat UT I was inwardly cringing at all of the Shocker puns that were going to be plastered all over the newspaper and the internet. It’s like even the newspaper people are talking trash about your fandom. Making witty at your expense. Don’t they know your pain?

   
If Wichita State were to win the NCAA Tourney, would the shocker sign become the 21^st century’s peace sign?

6. The media is out to get us.

This phase is always accompanied by counter-examples, i.e. you’ll find any way you can to find unequal treatment from the media or its members. For instance, one team’s loss is being talked about infinitely more than another team’s loss. Believe it or not this is a positive, it means you are starting to circle the wagons and cope with your defeat. Unfortunately it is a false optimism which will shortly be followed by more downtrodden thoughts.

Trust me…I think I might be considered a member of the media. The only thing I’m out to get is free beer…and free tights.

7. Whichever team beat mine sucks and so do their fans.

When I was about ten and UT had just lost to Auburn my dad said, “Clay, right now there is a boy the same age as you in Alabama who is really happy that his team beat Tennessee. Some times you’ll be happy and some times he’ll be happy, but you really aren’t that different.” After sixteen years I have a much better perspective about things like this, for instance, now that little boy from Auburn is also twenty-six and I am still sure he sucks and so does his team.

Per the above: There is a 100% chance this guy sucks.

8.  The team didn’t care/wasn’t ready to play.

This is almost never true. If so, this is unfortunate and perhaps your pain is warranted. More likely, it might be the case that you just sat out a rec-league basketball game because you have an ingrown toenail. In that case, maybe you shouldn’t judge your own team so harshly. Sports are pretty competitive and unless Don King is involved there probably wasn’t a payoff.

9. Fire the coach.

Everyone has a friend who wants to fire the coach after every loss. “It’s time to clean house,” he’ll say even though he has not cleaned his own house since 1988. Maybe you are this guy. Just about everyone can be this guy if the loss is bad enough. Particularly enjoyable about this stage is when you drag completely disinterested people like your wife or the street vendor into your misery. Particularly your wife, because your silence on the loss will have given her the feeling that you are a grown man and have gotten over your team losing. When in reality you’ve just been silently broiling over the loss. This phase will really disappoint her.

I saw the Virginia version of this license plate while driving to Greensboro. Can you imagine if this was your mother or your wife. She might as well have:

I (heart) gangbangs.

Incidentally I don’t know how to insert a heart symbol above here. This is because I have male genitalia.

[Ed: this is how you do it: "I ♥ gangbangs"... which I suppose says something about Shaw's genitalia.]

10.  Time for boastful hyperbole.

“I’m never going to watch them again,” you’ll say. Or, “See if I care…we’re through and I’ll even burn all of my jerseys.” You are a fan, damn it, and this loss cannot be stood for. The most dramatic gesture I’ve ever heard of was when a long-time Vanderbilt season-ticket holder stood up and tore his season tickets to shreds…after the first game…while still standing in the stadium. That ticket-tearer always impressed me because he had truly managed to shock with his fandom divorce. These days, fans will do or say almost anything after losses. It’s gotten to the point where fan hyperbole almost doesn’t exist because the moment you come up with an exaggerated statement someone has done or will be doing it shortly. Regardless the temptation will always be there to do or say something outlandish to draw attention to your plight and how forsaken your lot is. Never will the temptation be stronger than after a season-ending loss. Accept this and if hyperbolic boasts are necessary wait until everyone leaves your house and practice saying them to the mirror with a snarl. This way there will be no witnesses to your shaky fandom.

11.   Why does my team always lose?

Ahh, sweet resignation. Now you’ve reached the philosophical wasteland of fandom contemplation. I wonder, do New York Yankees fans ruminate upon this eternal question? Somehow I think they do, even though they’ve won more championships than any other team I can think of.  In my life as a sports fan, exactly once, in 1998, did one of my teams win a championship. Every other year of my life, I’ve ended up a loser. Yet, I come back every season for more helpings of defeat. And it doesn’t matter how many games my teams win during the regular season, I always feel like sitting in a corner and pouting when they lose to finish the season. But the truth of the matter is, yes, your team almost always loses. It isn’t your imagination. Fans have much more in common with end of the season losses than we do with victory. Yet, somehow this end of the season loss always comes as such a shock.

12.  Perspective.

Honest to god, this is the image I always go with: I could be living in a third world country without a mosquito net. For some reason, little insects that I can’t stop from biting me brings home how insignificant my teams losses are better than the billions of other images I could choose. That and the fact that I have the freedom, time, and health to actually get worked up about my team, but that is almost getting too logical. Remember, for the most part, logic is the enemy of fandom. 

Bastards.

13.  Something reminds you that redemption is only a season away.

For me this comes from the weather. In the middle of summer, out of nowhere, there will be a cool night that feels just like fall and you’ll find yourself thinking about footballs soaring through the air amid falling leaves. Or in late summer, you’ll step into a gym and hear the squeak of a sneaker on a hardwood floor. Or in the midst of winter some idiot from your office will go find someone to throw baseball with him even while there’s still snow on the ground. For a few days, you’ll stand at the window looking outside at these fools tossing baseball in their jackets and wondering what in the world they’re thinking trying to fashion baseball season in the midst of winter’s grasp. And then one day without even hardly thinking about it you will pack your glove and find yourself blowing into your palm to keep your fingers warm while you toss alongside them. You won’t have forgotten the season just passed, but you’ll realize yet again what you’ll forget when the season ends, that there is no loss so bad that keeps the season from beginning anew. In popular parlance, hope springs eternal, but I’ve always thought hope was the wrong word. Because those of us whose life moves to the rhythms of competition know, that in the end, sports spring eternal.

Coincidentally cheerleaders also spring eternal.