The Evolution Of A Cardinals Fan

It's a fair question.  Given 32 options, why would anyone willingly subject themselves to a lifetime of Arizona Cardinals football?

It may be difficult to explain, but I can say with certainty that geographical convenience and delusional optimism have a lot to do with it.  I was born and raised in Glendale, Arizona.  Shortly before I was old enough to develop an active interest in the NFL, the Cardinals moved to the desert from St. Louis. 

Despite the fact that we had a local team, those weren't Neil Lomax and Eric Swann posters on my wall growing up.  Instead, Bruce Smith and Jim Kelly watched over me as I rewrote history and dreamed that Scott Norwood was Adam Vinatieri-clutch.  I followed the Cardinals, and wished them the best, but when Halloween rolled around, I dressed as a Buffalo Bill.

I grew up a Bills fan out of juvenile frontrunnerism and a complete lack of a Cardinals culture in the Phoenix area.  Phoenix is a transient city, most people from previous generations were born elsewhere and moved here, bringing die-hard support for their old-world teams along with them. 

Even the Cardinals themselves were transplants, moving to the Valley of the Sun in 1988.  As a result, support for the then Phoenix Cardinals was not an inherited birth right in the way Packer-fandom was, nor was it transmitted however one catches the communicable disease that leads them into the Raider Nation.

The NFL's local television blackout policy didn't help matters.  Aside from when the Dallas Cowboys came to Tempe for their annual ninth home game, Cardinals games at Sun Devil Stadium were inevitably blacked out due to lack of attendance.  As a result, I watched just as many Bills games as a kid, and they were putting a better product on the field.

Alas, the Bills' AFC-specific dynasty came to an end, and as a matter of convenience I made the slow, painful transition toward the Arizona Cardinals.  It was inevitable, as the Bills disappeared from national television, the Cardinals became easier to follow.  Even if the game was blacked out, I could still hear it on the radio, and watch the highlights on the evening news.

To cement matters, the Cardinals made one of their rare shrewd player-personnel decisions of the 1990's and decided to capitalize on the success of the Arizona State University football program, with whom they shared a stadium.  In 1997 they took the Sun Devils' star quarterback Jake Plummer in the second round of the draft, and followed that up by taking their gritty linebacker Pat Tillman in the seventh round the following year. 

Both former Sun Devils would spend time as face of the franchise, and the team even has a statue honoring Tillman for his off-the-field sacrifice outside of their new home, the University of Phoenix Stadium.  As a Sun Devil fan, Plummer and Tillman made the Cardinals' Kool-Aid easier to swallow.

The Jake Plummer years ushered in an era of great hope for Cardinals football and ultimately ended with the team's trademark disappointment.  Local hero Plummer soon took over as the franchise's starting quarterback, and in 1998, he led the team to their first winning season and playoff appearance since moving to Arizona.  Plummer drew comparisons to Joe Montana, and became known for his ability to lead the team from behind in the fourth quarter.

However, 1999 marked the Arizona Cardinals descent into another losing decade.  Plummer's come from behind act wore thin, and he never posted another winning season in Arizona.  Fans began to ask why he couldn't just play well in the first three quarters, and wind down the clock in the fourth.

The Cardinals perpetual hope machine was stoked in 2001 with a seven-win season under new head coach Dave McGinnis.  But after managing only five victories in 2002, Plummer left the desert for Denver.  Following a four-win 2003 campaign, McGinnis was fired.

At this point, I had been a full-fledged Cardinals fan long enough to understand the emotional rollercoaster ride that it entailed.  No matter how bleak things are, cling to the few fleeting rays of hope and talk about how much better things will be next year.  It's essentially the same formula that has sustained Cubs fans through a century of mediocrity.

Despite firing McGinnis the team managed to turn 2004 into another year of great hope.  Needing to make a big splash at head coach with their new stadium set to open in 2006, the team turned to Dennis Green.  Green had a successful career with the Minnesota Vikings, but ultimately became known as the guy who could make the playoffs every year, but fail to win when it mattered most. 

As a Cardinals fan, perennial playoff struggles sounded like marked improvement over the five wins a year that the team had averaged over the past five seasons.  It was going to be like the Phoenix Suns.  Unfortunately, the Green era lasted only three seasons, and managed an average of 5.33 victories per season. 

Dennis Green would leave a lasting impression upon the franchise during his reign.  Not only did his press conference meltdown following a classic Cardinals' Monday Night collapse against the Chicago Bears lead to sound bite gold, but the team developed the roster that would ultimately achieve the Cardinals' greatest success.

Despite their Super Bowl run in 2008, years of following the Cardinals have taught me enough to temper my expectations.  There is every legitimate reason for optimism in 2009, however, I can't shake that voice in the back of my head preparing me for some new, unparalleled, spectacular failure. However, thanks to years of tolerance building and the satisfaction of last year's success, if a collapse should come, I'll be okay. 

Besides, after growing up a Bills fan, the Cardinals would have to lose the next three Super Bowls to equal the pain of my football youth.