Around this time, with the trash talking I would do in the following weeks and my antics at the party during the Colts/Ravens game, my friends began to catch on about how much of a rabid Colts fan I actually was. One of my friends, who I’ll call BDub, would root against the Colts just to upset me. After they won the AFC Championship and were considered the easy favorites to win, BDub went agains the Colts to root for the Bears. For two weeks straight he was the biggest Bears fan, indulging any chance he had to voice his support.
The sportscasters and the general public had it right, for once. Outside of an opening kickoff touchdown by the Bears (an event that, knowing how good and bad the Bears return team and Colts kicking team were—respectively, I called before the game; a feat that my roommate at the time even noticed I got right), the Colts took the lead and kept it for the entire game. After the crushing defeat of last year, my team finally won it. Manning also won the Super Bowl MVP, another honor for him.
The Colts would not win the Super Bowl again with Manning, but in the end that is alright with me. As I mentioned earlier, I was struggling with a break up and trying to find my identity after that relationship. The Colts’ championship was a small victory for me as I would move on with life.
I’ll always remember that birthday as being the “Super Bowl” birthday. I received a t-shirt with the front page of the Indianapolis Star the day after the victory, a magazine chronicling the Super Bowl season, an DVD doing the same, and a sweater commemorating the championship. By the end of it all, I was nearly Colts’d out.
I actually did have a period for a few months before the 2007 season where I thought about moving to another team. In all honesty, I had grown tired of the Colts. After winning the Super Bowl, I honestly had no idea where they would go from there. The pursuit was complete, where do you go from there? That feeling would evaporate at the beginning of the next season.
Since the Colts won the championship, they were tasked with hosting the season opener against the upstart Saints. Throughout the history of my time with football, nobody cared about the Saints because they were terrible. In the previous season, the Saints started winning; and everyone in Mississippi seemed to jump on their bandwagon. I wore my Manning jersey on campus the day of the game, and I was jeered several times throughout the day. I was invited to a get together that night at BDub’s place, which was going to be attended mostly by Saints fans. I go in with my characteristic arrogant attitude, which would prove costly at first. The Colts faltered on their first drive, and I had the entire group yelling at me in good natured ribbing. I actually had to go outside and take a breather, to prepare myself in the chance of a Colts loss. The wheels would quickly come off the Saints effort, however, and the Colts would take over and win the game decidedly—in a fashion with which even I was content. Most of the Saints fans in the room quit paying attention to the game after it was a lost cause, but I kept with it and left with my head held unnaturally high.
Not much else happened that season, the year the Patriots had an undefeated regular season. The Colts performed about as well as they usually did, finishing the season 13-3. On the day of the seemingly annual Colts-Patriots game, I became overly confident that the Colts would snap the Patriots winning streak, to the point where I was rooting for the wide receiver on the Patriots who happened to also be on my fantasy team (this was the first year I played fantasy football, and the year I was most excited about it) to score a touchdown against my Colts. Considering the Colts would lose by less than a touchdown, I regretted that decision. The following week, Peyton would throw six interceptions in a game against the Chargers that I would also watch with my friends. I became so livid at the game that I just quit paying attention to it, throwing it away along with the season.
Unlike the last time I had given up on the Colts’ Super Bowl chances the previous season, I would be proven right this time. The Colts easily made the playoffs and got the opportunity to play the Chargers again. Before the game took place and in the spirit of the previous season’s Super Bowl, BDub and I got into an argument about the Colts chances; in a funny twist, the argument got so heated that he told his girlfriend at the time to “shut up” when she tried to intervene. I wore the sweatshirt that I got for my birthday to the apartment where I was going to watch the game. All of my friends watching the game with me were rooting for the Chargers, mostly to make me angry. The game was a nail-biter, as both teams would exchange the lead multiple times. Unfortunately, the Colts would come up short and—much to my chagrin—my friends celebrated. I left the apartment in a much deserved huff, knowing that my dreams of a repeat were shattered.
The Super Bowl that season would be between the New York Giants (Eli and my brother’s teams) and the aforementioned undefeated Patriots. I had two tests the following day, so I only watched about a quarter of the game at a friend’s place. I made sure to wear my Colts sweater again that day in memoria of the previous season. The Giants would win the game in historic fashion (helmet catch, look it up if you want), and I was happy for my brother and the fall of my heated rivals.
The 2008 season was even less memorable than the 2007 season. During the summer, I got the opportunity to complete a chemical engineering research internship at Purdue University—an hour and a half from Indianapolis. On my way there, I visited Indianapolis and saw the RCA Dome before it was taken down in favor of Lucas Oil Stadium. My (new) girlfriend at the time also bought me a Colts shirt.
For the first time in my experience, the Colts would lose their season opener. This loss was even more embarrassing, as it occurred against the Bears—the team they won the Super Bowl against—and at the christening of their new stadium. The Colts would start the season 3-4, and the struggles would cool my fervor that season. Peyton would turn around the season and take the Colts from 3-4 to 12-4, leading the Colts to another playoff berth with the first game against the Chargers.
Although the regular season would end in a 9 game winning streak, I was skeptical about the Colts’ playoff chances—especially if the game was against the Chargers. The game would be played while I was at my family’s home in DC, in the middle of my parents burgeoning obsession with the Office. Instead of watching a game that would stress me out, I decided to follow my family and watch several episodes of the TV show. After I figured the game to be over, we quit watching the show and put the television on the station the game would be showed. The game was in overtime, and the Chargers appeared to be driving for the winning score. I immediately asked if we could just watch another episode of the Office, we did so, and—after finishing the episode—noticed that the Colts had lost to the Chargers for the second consecutive time. Unlike other years, I was not so upset at this turn in fortune. I had become used to losing in the playoffs, so it was just another season for me. That would change next season.
I graduated in May of 2009 from Mississippi State, and my post-college plans involved staying at home for the summer and then going to Notre Dame for graduate school. My summer was mostly uneventful, but I anticipated my new life at Notre Dame and being in the home state of the Colts. I also started dating a new girl (the third so far in the time span of this essay), who was eager to learn about football from me. The season started as most of them typically did, with the Colts going on a fantastic winning streak. In addition to the Colts winning streak, the Saints—the team that had given me grief two seasons ago—were building a streak of their own. Seeing my facebook feed flood with statuses involving “GO SAINTS” and “WHO DAT!” fueled the rivalry between Saints fans and me. My girlfiend, who I will nickname 3G, was still at Mississippi State; and, with the constant exposure to Saints pandemonium in school and my passion for Peyton’s Colts, she became swept up in NFL football (impressive, considering she only had a vague notion of football through her time at State).
Eventually, the Saints would lose their first game of the season after going 13-0 and lose the remaining games—finishing the season 13-3. Since the Colts did not lose their first game until the following week (and finishing the season 14-2), I felt that I had bragging rights and publicized this opinion to several of my Saints cheering fans. Little did I know this would come back to haunt me.
One of the most important games during the Colts season was the 4th and 2 game against, again, the Patriots. As usual, the game was highly anticipated, as both teams were leading their divisions and contenders for the Super Bowl. The game was played in Indianapolis, but the Patriots quickly took a comfortable lead and held it for most of the game. By midway in the fourth quarter, the Patriots still held a 34-21 lead. The Colts would score a touchdown with two and half minutes to play, making it 34-28 and a one score game. While I had checked the game throughout the night, I had mostly given up on it and only watched it out of morbid curiosity. After that touchdown, the game took my entire attention; and I alerted my girlfriend about the situation online. The ensuing Patriots drive stumbled out of the gate, leading to a 4th and 2 situation on the Patriots’ 28 yard line. Instead of pinning the Colts deep in their own territory, the Patriots elected to go for it to keep the ball away from Peyton’s offense. The attempt failed, and the Colts took the field with plenty of time to take the lead and win the game with a passing touchdown. At some point, I had even put on my Manning jersey just to root for the team. The ending of that game may have been the most exciting football experience I had ever had, even if it was just me by myself in my apartment chatting online with my girlfriend. This was also the game that completely immersed her in the football pandemonium.
As the weeks passed, my confidence increased. In a complete mirror of the 2006 season, I was completely confident of my team’s chances to win the Super Bowl. They captured the first seed in the AFC side of the playoffs. For the first game in the postseason, the Colts faced the Baltimore Ravens again—who struggled to make it to the playoffs and were expected to be an easy victory for the Colts. Predictions came true, and 3G—who had come to see me for the weekend—and I watched an easy victory to which I barely paid attention. Much to my delight, the next day the Patriots would lost to the Jets to set up a favorable Colts matchup for the AFC Championship. I wish I had an amazing story to tell about this game, but I don’t. I don’t remember the AFC Championship at all. I’m not sure if I watched it with a group of friends, by myself, or with 3G. The game was a total blur. Obviously, the Colts won; or I would have remembered the pain.
I do, however, remember the opposing game. The Bret Favre lead Vikings lost to the Saints after another overtime interception that would cost Favre’s team the game. So there it was, I’d finally have my Colts and Peyton play the Saints that I despised so much in the Super Bowl. In much the same way I felt about the previous Super Bowl in which the Colts participated, I was confident my team would prove the victors. This lead me to post several facebook statuses talking trash about the Saints, and the day before the game I changed my profile picture to a one with the Colts logo captioned with the phrase “Dat’s Who!” (a play on the “Who Dat?” chant that is a favorite among Saints fans). Then came the game.
I went to a Super Bowl party hosted by a fellow ND grad student, one that was attended by several people I did not know. The rooting interests of the attendees were fairly one sided, either people really did not care about the teams playing or they rooted for the Colts. One guy wanted the Saints to win, but he was more interested in rooting against the Colts than the Saints’ first championship.
The game started as expected, as the Colts took the lead and held on to it for the entirety of the first half. Still confident in my team at halftime, I had to take note that the Saints had trimmed the lead shortly before the end of the second quarter: the score being 10-6 after the Saints had kicked two field goals in the second quarter. The halftime show was exceptionally dreadful. Most of the partygoers immediately dismissed the performance as a bunch of old guys singing songs nobody cared about; but, since it was the Who, and I liked the Who, I was looking forward to it. Regardless, the sequence was dull: they played the songs everyone knows and seemed bored and unenthusiastic the entire time. I even remarked to a couple that was watching with me how bad it was, “and I was even a Who fan”.
The game took a turn for the worse at the start of the second half, as the Saints kicked an onside kick to achieve possession at the start of play. While my skepticism was beginning to brew at the end of the first half, the annoying halftime show had settled it down; now it was back in full force. I tried to play it cool, but I am sure my sudden pensive and quiet mood was a direct contrast to the jovial and cocky mood I had displayed in the first half. The Saints would score on the ensuing drive, taking the lead at 13-10.
To add to my chagrin, around this time a disgustingly overweight girl showed up to the party. She was from Minnesota and a lifetime Vikings fan. For some reason, she decided to root for the Saints after they had defeated her team two weeks prior. She was one of the fans I can’t stand: the type that says “woo” and “get ‘em” after every single play that results favorably for her team. Two events probably made me “that guy” at the party. The first came after the Saints took the lead for the first time in the game; as people remarked at the change in fortune and the crowd got quiet, I said in a matter-of-fact tone that “Katrina was coming back”. People laughed in that “whoa, I can’t believe he just said that” tone, but I rebutted with saying “I’m from the South, I can say that”. The other one was the Vikings fan. I couldn’t take it. She was too much. After about seven “woo”s when the Saints would gain 3-4 yards on a play, I turned around to her and said “if it weren’t for this team, the Vikings would be in this game, why are you rooting so hard for this team? That’s stupid” or something of that nature. She just looked at me and bleated like a cow. Whatever.
The Colts would take the lead again, and the score would be 17-16 at the end of the third quarter. Sadly, the Saints would take the final lead change off a touchdown and successful two point conversion, making the score 24-17—a touchdown’s difference. As the Colts prepared for their responding drive, I went into full fan mode. My memory is foggy, but I’m pretty sure I stood up and marched around the room claiming that “here comes Hurricane Peyton!”. My New Orleans-hurricane reference wasn’t as clever as the first time, but I did not know that at the time. The drive started out alright, but quickly ended as Peyton would throw an interception returned for a touchdown—effectively sealing the game for the Saints. The final score would be 31-17.
As a Colts fan, this was probably my lowest point. I remember sitting and watching the remainder of the game in stunned silence. I was stoic about my depression, but nothing would shake it—not even a very attractive and very drunk girl hitting on me would console me. When the game ended, I got a bunch of texts from several of my friends exclaiming victory and rubbing my defeat in my face. After I left the party I called my brother and expressed my sorrow. I told him that losing the Super Bowl was the first feeling a football fan can have, Peyton wasn’t the greatest quarterback of all time, and I couldn’t even have Brett Favre to fall back on anymore (which would prove untrue, as he’d return for another exceptionally lackluster season the next). I came back to my apartment and found my facebook page vandalized. One of my friends posted the same post, something about the score I think, over twenty times. In response, I took one of my profile pictures and MS Painted black X’s on my eyes to advertise my defeat.
I was unable to check any sports media for over a week. The combination of my team losing and the painting of the Saints’ as a feel good story by the media, being a perennial bottom dweller for so long and coming back from uncertainty after Katrina, was way too much for me. This may sound extraordinarily ridiculous, but this was a time of great introspection for me as well. I began to realize the possible falseness of a myth I had relied on for several years, that Peyton may not be the greatest quarterback of all time. To add further insult to injury, the game was finished on a complete blunder by Manning—the interception returned for a touchdown at the end of the game. There was no one else to place the blame.
In addition, I questioned why sports were such a phenomenon. Seeing all these people from Mississippi gloat over a team to which they had no real connection—in respect to location, relation, or anything—made me think. For most people, sports are just fun and games; but why should we care whether the teams win or lose? What do we, as fans, really have to gain from winning a championship? Nothing. The journey is quite obviously worth more than the destination; but, why do people such as myself invest so much emotional weight on things that mean nothing in life in general? I can only assume that it is used as an escape for people who are entrenched in the normalcy of their lives. While desk jobs and family life can only bring so much satisfaction, it has a ceiling. Every Sunday, people tune in for a journey in chance and strategy; a chance to relish in victory or bemoan in defeat. While this realization was romantic in a sense, it was also a bit fantastic and pathetic,--in a sense. Upon further self introspection, I’ve realized that I’ve never really been the same since thinking those thoughts. If I were set to task in finding a starting point for my decline of interest in sports, I would probably have to point to the Colts’ loss against the Saints.
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