There were the highs of pure fandom ecstasy, the kind when our boys in blue ran rampant over defenses in the late 90's. There were the lows of absolute frustration, the kind when watching the futility of the 2009 season when losses piled up like leaves on an autumn day.
What scares me is, now, only four games into 2013, I'm experiencing an entirely new emotion: apathy. AP Photo / Tom Gannam
Before the season, the excitement was palpable of a newly improved offense and an edgy, under-the-radar defense. There were million dollar signings of a left tackle that would block out the sun and a tight end who could run like a wide receiver. There were draft picks of a linebacker that could contain the new read option craze and a diminutive receiver that could dance around the field like a water bug skimming across a pond.
I was caught up, feeling that the Rams had finally turned the corner, especially after a resilient win against the Cardinals.
There was hope even against the Falcons with a late comeback attempt, but the Cowboys game and the 49ers game have reintroduced the harsh reality that despite new names and faces, the Rams are once again a doormat.
Normally, I'd be mad as hell, ripping everyone from the staff on down to the 53rd man on the roster.
But Thursday night, I finally hit the wall. I've followed this team to the depths too many times, been sold the snake oil on one too many occasions. It was easier when I had more time to rebound from losses in college and high school, but work and more important concerns are occupying the space reserved for digesting Rams football.
I'm growing tired of being sold excitement in the spring and summer, only to find nothing but disappointment and underachievement in the fall and winter.
My bitterness and anger has been replaced with complacency, which in turn is making me question whether this in the end is all worth the trouble.
I realize I'm not alone, we've all slogged through the bad times just for a few and far between good times. However, this time I'm closer than I ever wanted to be to truly considering what the end game of following this team really is.
Sure, next week, I'll probably put on my jersey, hope for the best and give it one more go for the olden days.
I'm just not sure how much resiliency I have left.
Brennan Smith is a longtime RamsHerd.com writer and graduate of journalism school who is now working at the Salt Lake Tribune. Follow @brennanjsmith
are flat out terrible teams who have ground their fan bases to the point that getting
close to a .500 record feels like a reason to celebrate, throw a parade and buy
into the hype that the following year will finally be the change we have been
Year after year, both teams trot out exciting, young players who are full of hype, have shown tremendous skill show at other levels of their sport and then are churned into mediocre, to below average talent, who really never pan out in the way we had been suckered into believing.
Ownership makes changes to the front office and coaching staffs, and we, the fan, start thinking, “hey, these guys did it somewhere else, they’ll do it here too” only to find yourself that you’ve been saying it to yourself every three years for over a decade.
I buy tickets, I buy merchandise, I read, tweet, talk and watch these teams, day after day, year after year, filled with the optimism that this is the year they finally break through. It’s then one of these teams suffers yet another gutting, embarrassing loss that impacts you to your core that temporarily wakes you from your trace long enough to find that you’ve been chasing fool’s gold the entire time.
When the Rams miss the playoffs this year, it will mark the 10th year in a row they have done so. The Mariners have not seen a playoff in 12 years, but you know what? I still care deeply for both of these teams, thus I will trudge onward, a little dejected at times, cynical for certain, but grounded in the fact that these are my teams.