purist
04-26-2011, 05:41 PM
As a kid and an avid Cowboys fan in the '70s I was spoiled. Superbowls were expected and the years they didn't come, the depression lasted until the draft when the Cowboys were sure to pull off something miraculous. I could not fathom life without Roger Staubach under center and when he retired I cried. Years later, after enduring "the catch", Gary Hogeboom, Steve Pelleur, and other wannabe saviors, when Tom Landry was fired, I got sick to my stomach. But eventually, things changed, for the better.
My relationship to the Spurs was different though. Unlike the Cowboys of the 70s, we were the upstarts looking for credibility in a league where playoff games were televised on tape delay after the 10 o'clock news. Most nights my experience was that of listening to the exploits of James Silas on transistor radio as told by the voice of Terry Stembridge. Back then we were a naive, some might even say immature fan base, but that was our appeal. We danced to the cotton eyed joe, threw guacamole on Larry Brown, and we embraced a tall skinny kid who eventually became the face of the franchise and took us to the brink of greatness and through the depths of heartbreak in 1979. We were destined, it seemed, to fall short of the mountain top. Even when a legitimate center in Artis Gilmore gave us hope, the cycle of time was against us as the showtime Lakers surged and proved an insurmountable playof foe.
But eventually, just as with the Cowboys, things changed. First for the worse, but then for the better....much better. There are kids of the 2000s, who like me in 70s cannot imagine life without Tim Duncan or without NBA titles. And when he finally retires officially, I'm sure at least a few tears will be shed. And when Popovich finally goes, either through self removal or forced exit, I'm sure a few stomachs will turn with angst and sadness at the memories of what once was.
But take heart Spurs fan. This is the circle of life in sports. We long for the mountain top experience, thinking it will never happen for us. Then, it does, and hope it never ends. Then it does end and we're back to longing for the chance to get there again one day. It makes me hearken back to the words of Stembridge when he ended each broadcast with the words: "there will be another night." Indeed that is the magic of sports. As sure as a newspaper editor once assured a little girl that Yes, Virginia there is a Santa Clause, we can be assured that yes, there will another night, if not soon then somewhere on the horizon. It might come in the form of a skrawny, gangly shooter or a solemn tower of a presence, but some day our day will come again. you have to believe, because after all that's sports.
My relationship to the Spurs was different though. Unlike the Cowboys of the 70s, we were the upstarts looking for credibility in a league where playoff games were televised on tape delay after the 10 o'clock news. Most nights my experience was that of listening to the exploits of James Silas on transistor radio as told by the voice of Terry Stembridge. Back then we were a naive, some might even say immature fan base, but that was our appeal. We danced to the cotton eyed joe, threw guacamole on Larry Brown, and we embraced a tall skinny kid who eventually became the face of the franchise and took us to the brink of greatness and through the depths of heartbreak in 1979. We were destined, it seemed, to fall short of the mountain top. Even when a legitimate center in Artis Gilmore gave us hope, the cycle of time was against us as the showtime Lakers surged and proved an insurmountable playof foe.
But eventually, just as with the Cowboys, things changed. First for the worse, but then for the better....much better. There are kids of the 2000s, who like me in 70s cannot imagine life without Tim Duncan or without NBA titles. And when he finally retires officially, I'm sure at least a few tears will be shed. And when Popovich finally goes, either through self removal or forced exit, I'm sure a few stomachs will turn with angst and sadness at the memories of what once was.
But take heart Spurs fan. This is the circle of life in sports. We long for the mountain top experience, thinking it will never happen for us. Then, it does, and hope it never ends. Then it does end and we're back to longing for the chance to get there again one day. It makes me hearken back to the words of Stembridge when he ended each broadcast with the words: "there will be another night." Indeed that is the magic of sports. As sure as a newspaper editor once assured a little girl that Yes, Virginia there is a Santa Clause, we can be assured that yes, there will another night, if not soon then somewhere on the horizon. It might come in the form of a skrawny, gangly shooter or a solemn tower of a presence, but some day our day will come again. you have to believe, because after all that's sports.