In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ’em.
Malvalio from Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night”
To paraphrase the pre-eminent bard, “some are born Detroit Lions’ fans, some choose to be Detroit Lions’ fans, and some have Detroit Lions’ fandom thrust upon’em.”
Thousands are part of the first group, only a true masochist can claim to be part of the second, and I, sadly, fall under the final category.
My family moved to suburban Detroit from northeastern Indiana late in the summer of 1978. At that time, Indiana was an NFL wasteland. The Irsay family was still six years away from orchestrating its 2 a.m. Mayflower move from Baltimore to Indianapolis. In effect, as a Hoosier we more or less got a steady diet of Bears, Bengals, and Browns games or, more often than not, whatever the marquee games of the week were. That’d explain why this kid from rural Indiana was such a big fan of the Miami Dolphins.
That all changed in the fall of 1978 when I was thrown into the Detroit media market and was subjected to what’s become an all-too-familiar 7-9 season that featured five consecutive losses following a 1-1 start to essentially render the rest of first-year coach Monte Clark‘s debut season moot.
And, so it began.
There were a few highs along the way (see Billy Sims and Barry Sanders highlights as well as the 1992 playoff thumping of the Cowboys, 38-6, in the Pontiac Silverdome) and plenty of lows (hello, Monte Clark praying on the San Francisco sideline during the waning moments of the 24-23 New Year’s Eve 1983 NFC Divisional Playoff loss).
At the end of the day, however, a league that’s designed for parity has provided me with a NFL team that’s gone 271-423-3 during the 44 years I’ve been subjugated to the Lions and just one playoff trip every four years on average. Heck, I’ve seen more head coaches (14) during my time in southeast Michigan than playoff appearances (11); and only one of those ended in a Detroit victory. (Thankfully, I was one of the 80,000+ who were in the Silverdome that afternoon.)
Perhaps this team’s historical irrelevance has led me to – despite calling myself a sports fan – not view a minute of the HBO series Hard Knocks which features the Lions this training camp/preseason. I rue growing invested in the team because, invariably, it’ll crush your spirit with a late-game turnover, a successful Hail Mary walkoff touchdown from a rival, or a touchdown catch will be ruled incomplete because the “process wasn’t completed.”
Season 45 begins this Sunday. The Lions host the Philadelphia Eagles at Ford Field. I will, no doubt, succumb to tempation and tune in for a minute or two and, if things are going well, I’ll allow myself to be further seduced and – gulp! – maybe even keep the game on until it’s conclusion. Heaven forbid they win because then I’ll have to take a peek at the following game against the Commanders.
A Detroiter’s relationship with this team is, I suppose, a good bit like Stockhom Syndrome. After being held captive for 44 years I expect I count myself among those at this point.