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I wish I could quit you, Cards
By Scott Bordow, Tribune
July 30, 2006
Dear Cardinals:
You don’t mind if I call you by your last name, do you? I mean, we’ve known each other for 18 years now. Seems like we can do without the formalities.
Related Links
Commentary
Anyway, I’m writing because I need to tell you how I feel, and it can’t wait until we get to Flagstaff Monday.
This hasn’t been the easiest relationship for me. Every year I think I’m going to fall in love with you again, and every year you break my heart.
Well, that’s not completely true. You have given me a couple of great memories.
I still remember our first year together. That 1988 season was fun, wasn’t it? Even though quarterback Neil Lomax got hurt and you lost five straight games to finish the season 7-9, we were still on our honeymoon and I forgave you.
And I still get goose bumps when I think about 1998. Jake Plummer owned this town, didn’t he? You made the playoffs — I still have that newspaper photo of Bill Bidwill jumping into the air — and I knew right then my love for you would never die.
Then you betrayed me. I know that sounds harsh, but that’s how I felt after you let Larry Centers, Jamir Miller and Lomas Brown go.
I still don’t know why you did that, but there’s no point in arguing about it again. It’s over. And I’m not even going to mention how foolish it was to fire Vince Tobin. I mean, he’s the only coach to lead you to a playoff victory in 51 years, and you dump him? How stupid is that?
Anyway, you know what’s happened since then. You’ve had seven straight losing seasons. Do you know how much pain that’s caused me?
Every July I’ve gotten my hopes up, thinking you won’t disappoint me again. By December, I’m so frustrated I hardly can stand the sight of you.
I really hoped Dave McGinnis would get it done because he’s such a nice guy. But that didn’t work, so you had Dennis Green whisper sweet nothings in my ear.
I have to admit, I was impressed by Green’s resumé. I thought for a moment things might be different between us.
But you never change, do you? You get my hopes up and then splash cold water on my face. It’s cruel.
You’re just lucky I’m such a sweetheart. If you were dating my cousin in Philadelphia, you would have been kicked out of the house a long time ago.
What’s that you’re saying? You promise I’ll be proud of you this year?
Like I haven’t heard that before.
You know what’s sad, though? I want to believe you. Even though you’ve been a cad all these years, I want to believe you can change.
I’m excited about the new stadium. I can’t wait to see Edgerrin James play. When you drafted Matt Leinart, I started to think we might have a future together.
I may regret this someday, but I guess what I’m telling you is that you don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore.
I’m not asking for much. You don’t have to make the playoffs, although that would be nice.
Just win at least seven games. Show me that I haven’t wasted all these years together. Prove that you mean all those nice things you keep saying.
I hope you know this is your last chance. Blow this, and I don’t think I’ll ever want to see you again.
(Of course, I’ve said that before, and I keep coming back for more. It’s like you’ve got some weird, dysfunctional hold on me.)
For now, though, I’m yours.
Sincerely, Your fans
Contact Scott Bordow by email, or phone (480) 898-6598
By Scott Bordow, Tribune
July 30, 2006
Dear Cardinals:
You don’t mind if I call you by your last name, do you? I mean, we’ve known each other for 18 years now. Seems like we can do without the formalities.
Related Links
Commentary
Anyway, I’m writing because I need to tell you how I feel, and it can’t wait until we get to Flagstaff Monday.
This hasn’t been the easiest relationship for me. Every year I think I’m going to fall in love with you again, and every year you break my heart.
Well, that’s not completely true. You have given me a couple of great memories.
I still remember our first year together. That 1988 season was fun, wasn’t it? Even though quarterback Neil Lomax got hurt and you lost five straight games to finish the season 7-9, we were still on our honeymoon and I forgave you.
And I still get goose bumps when I think about 1998. Jake Plummer owned this town, didn’t he? You made the playoffs — I still have that newspaper photo of Bill Bidwill jumping into the air — and I knew right then my love for you would never die.
Then you betrayed me. I know that sounds harsh, but that’s how I felt after you let Larry Centers, Jamir Miller and Lomas Brown go.
I still don’t know why you did that, but there’s no point in arguing about it again. It’s over. And I’m not even going to mention how foolish it was to fire Vince Tobin. I mean, he’s the only coach to lead you to a playoff victory in 51 years, and you dump him? How stupid is that?
Anyway, you know what’s happened since then. You’ve had seven straight losing seasons. Do you know how much pain that’s caused me?
Every July I’ve gotten my hopes up, thinking you won’t disappoint me again. By December, I’m so frustrated I hardly can stand the sight of you.
I really hoped Dave McGinnis would get it done because he’s such a nice guy. But that didn’t work, so you had Dennis Green whisper sweet nothings in my ear.
I have to admit, I was impressed by Green’s resumé. I thought for a moment things might be different between us.
But you never change, do you? You get my hopes up and then splash cold water on my face. It’s cruel.
You’re just lucky I’m such a sweetheart. If you were dating my cousin in Philadelphia, you would have been kicked out of the house a long time ago.
What’s that you’re saying? You promise I’ll be proud of you this year?
Like I haven’t heard that before.
You know what’s sad, though? I want to believe you. Even though you’ve been a cad all these years, I want to believe you can change.
I’m excited about the new stadium. I can’t wait to see Edgerrin James play. When you drafted Matt Leinart, I started to think we might have a future together.
I may regret this someday, but I guess what I’m telling you is that you don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore.
I’m not asking for much. You don’t have to make the playoffs, although that would be nice.
Just win at least seven games. Show me that I haven’t wasted all these years together. Prove that you mean all those nice things you keep saying.
I hope you know this is your last chance. Blow this, and I don’t think I’ll ever want to see you again.
(Of course, I’ve said that before, and I keep coming back for more. It’s like you’ve got some weird, dysfunctional hold on me.)
For now, though, I’m yours.
Sincerely, Your fans
Contact Scott Bordow by email, or phone (480) 898-6598
