I feel like a person who's being abused but can't leave a relationship.
I feel like a person who knows the alternate route but drives into the same traffic jam every day.
I feel like Matt Millen. Wait a minute. No, I don't!
I'm a glutton for punishment. I must be, right?
Every Sunday, like a kid at Christmas, I get excited because I think this has to be the week. This is it!
This is the day that finally, at long last, the Detroit Lions are going to win a game.
So, I take a seat in my basement, turn on the TV, (well, because of the blackouts, it's actually the radio), and hope that the same team that has showed up the previous eight weeks was kidnapped and replaced with a new and improved squad.
My hopes are quickly dashed. Another loss, another disappointment.
Where's the team that went 4-0 in the preseason?
Yes, it's that bad that I take solace in the fact that they went 4-0 in the preseason.
Where's Jon Kitna? For that matter, where's Scott Mitchell, Andre Ware? Eric Hipple, anyone?
Where's Barry Sanders? Oh, that's right, they made him quit in the prime of his career.
And since we can't get him back, I'll take James Stewart and Artose Pinner (I love that name).
Herman Moore and Robert Porcher are now businessmen. Think they'll come back for one more shot at glory?
How about Chris Speilman? Screw the cushy gig with ESPN. The Lions need you...now!
In the name of Wayne Fontes, somebody rescue me from football purgatory.
Mike Williams ate too much, Charles Rogers smoked too much.
The only joy I get on Sundays is watching my son play pee-wee football. His team went 6-2. They know how to win.
But his season is over. So, now, he and my daughter stare at me because they've never heard so many obscenities come out of their daddy's mouth.
I'm sorry, kids. Damn Lions.
I'm tired of living with a loser. Sure, Detroit has the Pistons and the Red Wings, but this is a football town.
We are in a season of change. We have a new president that ran on the premise of change.
Detroit's football franchise needs a change—a change of coach, players, or even ownership.
Please, change something.
Until then, I'll continue to walk into my basement, turn on the TV (or radio), and sit, waiting to get smacked again. Another loss, another disappointment.