Where Did You All Come From?

I have been a die hard Arizona Cardinals fan my entire life. It hasn't always been easy because they were the laughing stock of the NFL for many years, and were not considered lovable losers, even though they were to me. But there was something special about being one of the few fans of a team. Not many people in Arizona really cared about the Cardinals, no matter what they say now. They only made the playoffs once when I was a kid, beating the Dallas Cowboys in the first round and then losing badly to the Minnesota Vikings in the second round.

I was twelve years old and was home listening to sports radio the night the Cardinals lost. They announced that the Cardinals plane would be arriving in a couple hours and encouraged fans to come and welcome them back. I immediately wanted to go, but it was a school night and already past my bedtime, so I knew there was no chance. But without my even asking, my mom said, "We should go."I don't know exactly why she decided to take me. I do know that she was one of the many fans that welcomed the 1975 Suns back at the airport after winning a spot in the NBA finals. That was a memory she always had and maybe she just wanted me to have a similar one.

It was a cold night and we waited out on the tarmac with about a hundred and fifty other fans waiting to show our support for what had been the most successful season in Cardinals history. Their plane didn't get in until close to midnight and when the players walked off, they gave every fan that had come a handshake or a high five. I got a high five from my favorite player, Aeneas Williams. It's a night I will never forget.

Now, the Cardinals are about to start a new season and have shed their loser image. They made the Super Bowl two years ago and the playoffs again last year. They are playing in a new stadium, to sold out crowds with legions of new fans. And part of me is bitter. Where were all these people when the Cardinals were terrible? True fans were the ones who showed up on the hundred degree days when the Cardinals were playing at Sun Devil Stadium. We sat on those burning hot bleachers and watched our inept team while having to deal with the opposing team's fans, who usually were greater in number than us. Then I feel ashamed for thinking this way. I have what I wanted; the Cardinals are finally good. What is it about liking something that makes it so much more special when no one else does? It's the same way with a band or an author. We think that everybody should love them, but then we get mad when they do. I know that I need to get over it, but it's going to take some time. At least I will always have those memories of the lovable loser Cardinals. The ones not too many other people loved.