Bright Lights, Big City.

I live in Washington State. Born and raised.
I’m also a huge, fanatical, scream-your-lungs-out sports fan.
But for three decades, I’ve come to accept that my teams just don’t win championships.
Sports journalists forget we even exist.
Sports broadcasters can’t remember our names.
Our team’s apparel is usually on sale.
Tickets are far too easy to get.
Our basketball team moves to Oklahoma.
Every once in awhile, we catch a glimmer of hope. We win a few games in a row.
Could things be different this year?
But we know that those hopes will eventually come crashing down.
So we don’t let our thoughts get too carried away.
Please don’t interpret this as not being loyal. Haven’t you heard of the 12th Man?
The loudest fans in the NFL. The loudest stadium in the NFL.
We’re very loyal.
That’s why it hurts even more.
We got a taste of this thing called “winning” last year.
We were only a couple games away from the Super Bowl.
So we came into this season with cautiously high hopes.
And sometimes the stars align.
We won. And we won good.
Maybe now they’ll remember.