Nobody Likes a Loser

I’m a simple, Kansas guy. I grew up in Kansas. After college in Utah and a brief and often mind-numbing two and a half year stint in West Texas, I returned with my young family to live in Kansas. I love it here. And, if there’s one thing I know about Kansans, it’s that we love our sports.

We don’t take ourselves too seriously like our counterparts on the East Coast. We don’t abandon our teams to the beach the moment the playoffs are out of reach like our friends in the West. But, in the last twenty years – the formative years of my development as a sports fan – sports in Kansas, and many other so called small markets, has gone into an incredible drought. Where are our champions? Where are our heroes? Are we satisfied just saying we root for a team and that’s enough? Well, I for one, am not satisfied. I want to cheer for a winner. I want to go to a parade. I want to see the banner drop. I want to be the guy waiting with my credit card for Sports Illustrated to offer that slick, black leather bound commemorative edition for my (FILL IN YOUR FAVORITE TEAM HERE).

Yet, here I sit, all but forgotten on the national sports landscape. In recent years, ESPN – the so called worldwide leader in sports – has developed into an over-hyped, East Coast Superstation. It’s no better than WGN’s promotion of the Cubs, White Sox and Bulls or TBS’ and America’s team – the Atlanta Braves. ESPN drank the proverbial East Coast kool-aid years ago and, like it or not, it shows on their broadcasts. Their focus is Boston and New York in baseball season, the all wise worlds of Bill Belichick and Andy Reid during the NFL. All college football is centered in Florida and college basketball doesn’t exist outside Tobacco Road. Even during the NBA season, the major sport with obvious superiority in the West, we’re inundated with the wacky moves of Isaiah Thomas and Danny Ainge, the absurd attitude of Allen Iverson or the off the wall quotes from Shaquille O’Neil. For me, this recent 50 states in 50 days was the breaking point with ESPN. Why? Because instead of coming to Lawrence or Manhattan or Wichita to profile sports in Kansas, the worldwide leader went to tiny WaKeeny for the Trego County Fair. After a night of rodeo jokes and pictures of tractors, it was easy to see how ESPN sees us in Kansas. “Hey, let’s poke some fun at the farmers and laugh about which kid raised the biggest hog!”

So, what’s my point? I’ll tell you. I’m tired of being ignored. I want a place for the common fan. Not the Red Sox bandwagoner. I want the fans who live and die with the Minnesota Twins or the Seattle Mariners. I’m not looking for the purple-clad Laker who wants to roll with Snoop Dogg. I want the guy who saves for a month to sit in the upper deck of the Delta Center and watch the Utah Jazz. How about the fan who looks past the current love affair with Vince Young at Texas and Matt Leinert at USC to see what Joe Tiller’s doing at Purdue or who Brian Brohm’s going to throw to at Louisville. I’ll take a Missouri Tiger scouring Quin Snyder’s recruiting visits over the Coack K-can-do-no-wrong Duke fans who assume the Final Four is their holy birthright. Sports should not be about entitlement. It should be about loyalty and dedication. We, as fans, have a vote in whether or not our teams succeed – but in the din of Jim Rome and Stuart Scott, we’ve forgotten how to make our voices heard. I’m mad. I’m mad at being an also-ran in the race to the title. I’m mad at big corporations that tell me my team can’t compete because we’re in a small market. I’m mad about that Mike Krzyzewski American Express commercial that should be counted as an in-home visit to every recruit in the nation.

So, here’s what you can expect from me. Each week, I’m going to post a column about big time sports from the small time perspective. I don’t have a crack research staff or an intern or well, anything more than me and my computer. But, I want my thoughts to be a sounding board for you. If you agree or if you disagree, chime in and let me know what you think. The comments section will always be open. Am I representative of fans in similar situations? We’ll find out. Can we have some fun? I think so. Will it make a difference? Only time will tell.

Now, certainly I don’t presume to believe that all of you carry the same sports allegiances as I do. But, since I’m the author of this column, let me tell you where I’m coming from. I grew up in Lawrence, Kansas. That makes me a Jayhawk. If I’d been raised 100 miles west on I-70, I’d probably be a Wildcat or 100 miles north on I-29, I’d call myself a Husker. But, I’m a Jayhawk. I love the Jayhawks. And, of my favorite teams, the Jayhawks have been the closest in recent years to getting back to the promised land. Two final four trips that included a last second shot that could have won it all. But it wasn’t to be and, we Jayhawks are left with memories of Danny and the Miracles and 1988. Sure, we hope for the future and we declare our allegiance to Bill Self’s team, but each and every one of us at least let out that exasperated sigh last April as Roy Williams cut down the nets in Carolina blue.

For me, college basketball is really the peak of the mountain when speaking about the hardwood. Sure, I follow the NBA playoffs, but we haven’t had a team in this area since the Kings split for Sacramento in 1985. So, as a loyal Jayhawk, I follow Hinrich’s Bulls, Pierce’s Celtics and now Simien’s Heat. Each year, at the beginning of the NBA season, I tell myself that this is it. I’m going to really follow a team this year. I lived in Utah at the height of Stockton to Malone and in Boston when Reggie Lewis died. I’ve seen professional basketball at the old Boston Garden, at the Delta Center and in Dallas at the American Airlines Center. For the most part, NBA basketball is interesting. But, for whatever reason, it just doesn’t hold my attention for an entire season.

Major League Baseball seems to be a comedy of errors for me right now. I’ve long loved the Chicago Cubs – I even named my son after my favorite Cubs player of all time. I attribute this to the above mentioned WGN. I remember when my parents got cable – with the box on top of the TV and the “remote” with the wire trailing back to the box. All of a sudden, I found a major league team that played when I could stay up to watch – the Cubs at Wrigley with, at that time, no lights. I started watching. I received my indoctrination during the 1984 NLCS with the San Diego Padres. I couldn’t believe my favorite team – with the Penguin, Sarge, Sandberg, Sutcliffe and Bobby Drenier had lost. I’ll never forget Sparky Anderson – manager for the eventual world champion Detroit Tigers – with that smug look on his face when he commented on facing the Padres in the World Series. I just knew he was secretly thrilled that he didn’t have to face my Cubs.

But, when I actually wanted to witness major league baseball, I could always join the fans at Royals Stadium just across the state line. I’ve loved the Royals just as long as I’ve enjoyed the Cubs. I grew up listening to Denny Matthews talk about Larry Gura, Freddy Patek, Dan Quisenberry, Willie Wilson, Amos Otis, Frank White and, the immortal George Brett. I used to lie in bed with my brother’s radio tuned to the games and listen as those early to mid-80s Royals teams fought with the mighty Yanks. We died against Tug McGraw and the Phillies and against Chris Chambliss and the Yankees. I remember Billy Martin and the pine tar game. And then, in 1985, the unbelievable came true. The I-70 series. The safe call at first base. Bret Saberhagen. A world championship. It was truly awesome. Just this weekend, a shell of that great organization will celebrate the 20-year anniversary of that title. Sure, there have been some great moments since then. In high school, I could buy a G.A. ticket and chat with Bo Jackson over the left field wall during pitching changes. Seeing Carlos Beltran play centerfield was a thing of beauty.

But, today’s Royals are a sad, pathetic joke to the rest of the sports world. David Glass should be ashamed of himself. I pray for his Ebenezer Scrooge moment when he is visited by Ewing Kaufman and told he will see three ghosts – The Ghost of Royals past (Dan Quisenberry) the ghost of Royals present (Mike Sweeney) and the ghost of Royals future (the Malouf brothers – owners of the Las Vegas Royals). Maybe then he will snap out of his money grubbing funk and realize that in the vast majority of the MLB kingdom, you don’t own a baseball team to turn a profit. You own a team to try and win. We understand that, but Wal-Mart’s billion dollar man just doesn’t get it.

So that brings me to football. I love football. It has truly become America’s game. On the college front, my Jayhawks really haven’t been a factor since the Glen Mason days – and even then we cheered for a 7-4 season like we’d won the national title. I actually attended Brigham Young University and I love the Cougars, too. I’d give anything to see them reinsert themselves into the national spotlight, but I believe there is an inherent conflict of interest between a church-owned and operated university and the bureaucratic mess that is college football. So, I cheer for the locals to make good. I root for the Nebraska Cornhuskers and K-State Wildcats to return to their powerhouse ways. I root for Bob Stoops’ Oklahoma team to win whenever they get a shot at the national title. And I root for the underdog whenever I can. If Boise State is 12-0, let them play for a title. I want a playoff. I want a real champion. I’m tired of old coaches and athletic directors making the decisions. That’s my college football pipe dream.

And, so I’ll conclude with the greatest, most powerful league in the country – the NFL. I am an unabashed, diehard, red and gold Chiefs fan. In the league of perpetual hope, I spend every July and August convinced my Chiefs could go 19-0 and win the Super Bowl. I’ve witnessed the lows – drafting Todd Blackledge, the Lin Elliot miss, the death of Derrick Thomas, the thug years with Bam Morris and Tammarick Vanover, the inability to stop the Colts one time. I’ve seen the highs – Marty’s bone-crushing defense, Montana’s comeback on Monday Night Football, 13-3 with Montana and Allen and again with Green, Holmes and Gonzalez. And, each year, I’m ready for more. Hope springs eternal at training camp. And, once again, I’m ready for some football.

So, that’s what you’re getting when you come to this page. Though we may sometimes roam into current events, politics, entertainment and the like, for the most part I want to write about sports. And sports with a little more common flair than what I see out there right now. Don’t get me wrong, there are some wonderful columnists with excellent viewpoints – I never miss Peter King; I read everything Bill Simmons writes; Peter Gammons is the quintessential baseball writer; Jason Whitlock loves to stir the pot. Those are just a handful of the writers I seek out. If you have room in your reading list for a fans view, give me a try. My posts will go up about once a week on Thursday or Friday. And don’t forget to let me know what you think.