It's July as I write this. George
Vogel, a Cincinnati Standard reporter and sports anchor for local 12 News
at Eleven announced that the Cincinnati Bengals training camp opens tomorrow.
Yeah, I know, this is Zisk, a baseball magazine, but the training camp
announcement couldn't have came at a worse time. The Cincinnati Reds are at a
season low. Everybody—well, not everybody, but actually my Dad said Votto wasn't
going to be the same after that knee-thingy and he was right.
It seems that despite a lot of players
on the disabled list, things were looking up before the all-star game. I was actually
warming up to the new manager Bryan Price, after the nasty surprise
ousting of Dusty Baker. Then, in true Cincinnati professional sports
fashion, everything fell apart.
You see, with the Bengals Training Camp
starting-up, Cincinnatians have/will call it done with the Reds season and get
'all-about' football. That will last until the Bengals fuck-up and then talk of
the Reds spring training begins and the vicious cycle begins again. The Bengals
are ditched for hopes of the Reds next season. I call this The Cincinnati
Cycle.
I know it’s harsh, but it's how this
city’s run. We Cincinnatians are fair-weather evil bastards that are ready in a
moment’s notice to throw whoever they have to under a bus or fucking
street-car. We're fickle like that. We're not in it for the long-haul.
Cincinnati fans are eager for championships! World Series and Super Bowl
victories and all it's surrounding hoopla. We mean business.
On this fateful night of July 23, even
before anyone said anything on the news, you could see it on the Reds’ faces already!
It was over. Channel 12's George Vogel and his announcement of Bengals
Training Camp just gave the jar a lid. In an after-game interview Bryan Price
hinted at a possible turn-around after an off-day before a series at Great
American Ballpark. A turn-around would be nice. That's a nice dream to have and
hold onto. That's the sort of dream you build a wall around. Whereas there's
still definitely room for a really tremendously awesome comeback, it's not
going to happen. Trust me. Trust my
Dad.
I watched the highlights and those
Brewers, those fucking Brewers, just won the physical victory as well as the mental
victory. Price would dare not admit it but he knows. George Vogel knows. My
Dad, watching from the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, in the back bedroom
of an add-on trailer, watching a 15" LED flatscreen knows. I know. Now you
know! Someone's got to win, and someone's got to lose. That's where the Reds enter
the equation.
I'm always going to be a Reds fan and
will never forget my decision to start watching Cincinnati Reds games so my Dad
and I would have something to talk about besides how well my car was running
and when I was going to get the oil changed. I'm glad to have made that
decision. I don't follow the Bengals the way I follow the Reds despite the
mental similarities that both teams seem to have. I suppose, that really, truth
be told, following theReds and to a verily lesser extent, the fucking Bengals, we,
the collective we, we are Cincinnati! We are Greater Cincinnati and we
have learned the valuable lesson of defeat, failure and more importantly
moving-on.
All of these lessons are hard to face
but are essential for living here and becoming proud, bitchy Cincinnatians. There's
only going to be one champion and right off the bat, no one’s chances looks
good. Everybody is a potential loser whether it's admitted or not. Welcome to Cincinnati,
we've been waiting for you.
I realize now, after all these words,
that I thought I was better than all of this. I thought I was a much bigger
fan, a more loyal fan, than to just give up so soon after the allstar break.
Long before there's talk of a “magic number” but truly, I'm not. I admit it!
I'm a product of my environment and a slave to my ingrained Southwestern Ohio
doom-culture. I'm from Cincinnati! I am Cincinnati! I'm gonna go call my Dad
who will agree and solidify my newfound admissions with a phone conversation
that will last less than a minute. My Dad on the
phone, is all killer and no filler. He will verify that for the 2014 season,
The Reds are DONE.
So, 'fuck-it'. Let's move-on. We are
Cincinnati so you don't have to be.
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