A Title Etches Memories in Stone
Adam J Locascio
Tuesday January 16, 2007
No, not the actual Hell with the fire, the brimstone, and the ragged clothes, but my own personal Hell. This is the Hell that I will go to if I’m not a nice guy. You see, I won’t be left to burn in the fires of Hades, but I’ll be sent to New Orleans.
New Orleans on January 2, 1997 to be exact. I was there. I was a student attending Florida State University and I was lucky enough to have been selected in a ticket lottery to go the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans to see the top-ranked Seminoles versus the third-ranked Gators for the National Championship.
To make a long story short, running back Warrick Dunn left the game with cramps (I’m still trying to figure out how you get cramps playing a game at night and indoors in the air conditioning). The Seminoles’ second running back, Rock Preston, was kicked off the team for academic reasons and the Big Easy was pretty hard for Florida State who lost 52-20.
After the game, I’m trapped on Bourbon Street with 45,000 happy, screaming, giddy (and nauseating) Florida Gators fans who are all having the time of their lives, celebrating their first National Championship AND a win over their arch-rivals.
This is my Hell. If I go to Hell, it will be January 2, 1997, after the game and the sun will never come up. I will spend eternity on Bourbon Street with those God-awful Gators fans – forever.
What was Florida State’s best season (at that time) was reduced to the team’s most embarrassing loss in team history. No one remembers (or cares) that 1996 was FSU’s second undefeated regular season. No one remembers (or cares) that FSU beat Florida 24-21 to close the regular season. After the game, FSU fans charged the field and tore down the goal posts. I was there. I was on the field. I had never been a part of anything like that.
And you know what? It doesn’t matter anymore. The memory is slaughtered.
What spawned this conversation? Well, I was talking to some Predators fans who said they enjoyed themselves in Vegas in June.
Um… how? Anyone who tells you they had fun seeing their team get beat in the championship game by a 7-9 team is either a liar or they’re not a real fan. How do I know? Because I walked down Bourbon Street in 1997 thinking, "You never have a flame-thrower when you need one."
I heard one Predators fan, whose opinion I greatly respect, tell me about the pleasure that he got seeing the Predators smack Clint Dolezel and the Dallas Desperados 45-28 in the Conference Championship. This came after the Desperados’ quarterback went on a rant about how he was going to ring up the Preds D for 75 touchdowns and about a mile of passing yards.
Well, I guess that’s his 24-21.
Unless, he left Las Vegas up about $4,000, I don’t buy he had fun. I’ll tell you this, after my Sugar Bowl fiasco, if I was a Predators fan I would have gone to the Mandalay Bay Sports Book and put about $200 on the Chicago Rush to win Arena Bowl XX. Why? Well, if the Predators lose, at least you’re up $200. If they win, hey, $200 well spent.
Winning a championship validates everything. It’s the glue that cements the season. The stepping stones that lead up to the climax don’t seem to matter when you don’t punctuate it with a title. Who cares that Carlton Fisk dramatically waves his home run inside the foul pole when the Red Sox choke in Game 7 anyway? John Elway engineered "The Drive" versus the Cleveland Browns in 1986, only to get dismantled by the New York Giants in Super Bowl XXI. How good would the 1972 Miami Dolphins be considered if they lost the Super Bowl? Would we talk about the 1985 Bears defense if they choked against the Patriots?
I’d rather see my team go 1-15 then pull a "one-and-done" in the playoffs. That’s just infuriating; to be pumped full of hope and optimism and having the balloon popped 60 minutes into the post-season. And the further you go, the greater the let-down. Maybe Ricky Bobby had the right idea when he said, "If you ain’t first, you’re last."
Maybe it’s me. I’m not saying I’m right, but listen up sister, I’m competitive. I’d rather have a bargain-basement player salary and a Ring, then be one of those free agents who gets a monster contract to play for a cellar-dweller. For me, it’s not about money, it’s about titles. It’s about championships. If you’re second, you’re the first loser. No one lost ahead of you. Of all the losers, you came in first.
For a fan, the title game is basically taking a season’s worth of memories, events, moments, plays, and trials and going all-in. Win the title, you get them all back and then some.
Otherwise, it’s Bourbon Street… and the sun never rises.
Adam J. Locascio is a financial advisor in the Tampa Bay area and a Board Member of the Tampa Bay Storm Surge Fan Club. He holds a Bachelor of Science degree from the University of Phoenix and is a six-year season ticket holder for the Tampa Bay Storm.
