The Difference Between Confidence and Hope

Shot themselves in the foot once again.

And us in the heart.

Copyright © 2018

by Ralph F. Couey

A few days have passed and the sharp pain has faded to a dull ache.  The shock of seeing the Chiefs lose yet another playoff game has given way to a kind of fatalistic sense of an expectation fulfilled.

I know we attach way too much importance to sports and their outcomes, especially when there are so many more vital issues to be concerned about.  But having said that, there's no denying the sense of ownership, identity, and belonging that arises from our loyalties to a team.  And the angst that hits home when that team fails.

If you're going to be a fan of the Kansas City Chiefs, the first requirement is to grow a callous around your heart.  The record of the Chiefs in the postseason requires it.  Crushing futility is a good term, but doesn't come close to describing how it feels.  Since their victory in Super Bowl IV just short of a half-century ago, the Chiefs have played in 16 playoff games and lost 15.  It's not just the losses, but the character of those losses.  Way too many of them were games where things seemed well in hand, only to see them slip away at the end.  

Rosters are fluid things.  Players and coaches come and go, so such disappointments for them are transitory.  But for fans, that vicariously-linked family sharing that common bond, has had to be there and endure those losses year in and year out, generation in and generation out.  We'd like to think we understand the priority of such things, and are able to walk away when things get too bad.  But we have become trapped within that delusion of hope that arises every autumn.

Other fans of other teams seem to take a kind of perverse delight in our pain, especially those teams within the AFC West, along with the fans of those teams who continue on in the tournament.  It's a highly competitive world where civic pride trumps good sense, and it hurts to be left behind.  

Living in Denver, I have observed a distinct difference between how Broncos fans approach things as opposed to the Chiefs' Nation.  It is the difference between confidence and hope.

The Broncos consistent run of success has been a well-documented record of division championships, conference championships, and Super Bowls of far more recent vintage.  Thus their fans approach each season with a strong sense of confidence.  They are confident that their team will have a winning record.  They are confident that the Broncos will win the West.  They are confident that success will follow in the playoffs.  And they are firmly confident that the Broncos will lasso the top prize in February.  Given their long run of success, these are not unreasonable expectations.  At least until this year.

Chiefs fans, however, see things quite differently.

This long, sad, and tragic record has bred a far more cautionary attitude.  When a team has so consistently failed, one begins to factor that into the analysis.  We look at the Chiefs, not with confidence, but with hope.  We hope for a winning record.  We hope for a division championship.  We hope for success in the playoffs -- at least one win beyond the wild card round.  And the Super Bowl?  Only a dim and distant dream.

Chiefs fans have been conditioned to feel this way by bitter reality.  We live on hope because the only confident expectation is supreme disappointment.

It's not just that they lose, but how they lose So many of those losses have clearly been excruciatingly self-inflicted.  These games acquire sad monikers such as the no-punt game, or the no-touchdown game, the Kicker Who Shall Not Be Named game, the 28-point lead game, and the latest which is being called the Forward Progress game.  But it could just as easily be called the Second Half Hibernation game. Just as bad as those crucial calls were, the real culprits were an offense that dinked and dunked its way to a mortifying 53 second half yards, and a defense that couldn't get out of its own way and off the field on third down, thus surrendering a strong, if not commanding lead.

The post season remake has already begun.  Two coaches are gone, one to a promotion with another team, and another to retirement.  The new offensive coordinator, Erick Bienemy, is best remembered by Mizzou fans as one of those Colorado Buffalo's who couldn't seem to count past four.  The quarterback who enjoyed a phenomenal statistical season but nevertheless failed when it really counted is expected to be traded, clearing the way for a strong armed phenom who has enormous and exciting promise, but will likely turn the ball over way more than his predecessor.  Some of the rest of the players are becoming uncomfortably aware that patience with their shortcomings has been spent.  What this team will look like, roster wise, next year will be significantly different than the squad that slunk off the Arrowhead turf last week.   This is necessary because as many in the Chief's organization have stated in recent days, "This cannot continue."

And the fans?

Kansas City fans have shown an amazing amount of forgiveness and resilience.  But in the days before that Titans game, some tickets literally couldn't be given away.  That's never a good thing, even when the temperatures are below freezing.  For the first time since the beginning of the Derrick Thomas era, some fans have decided to do other things on game day.  My feeling is that Hunt, Reid, and Co. may be losing their fan base.  It was so normal to see Arrowhead filled to SRO, that the growing number of empty seats has become disquieting.  This is a relationship, after all, and you can hurt us only so many times before we stop coming around.

I was at Don's Club Tavern on East 6th Avenue in Denver, where the local Chiefs fan club gathers for game day.  It's a great environment, people bringing pot luck since Don's, a classic dive, doesn't serve food.  It's loud, almost painfully so when something good happens, but you know when you're there, you're among family.  But even such a partisan crowd as that was full of angry rebuke by the time the clock ticked down.  I heard more than one patron say, "I don't know why I keep doing this."

This is a watershed moment for the Chiefs and their fans. The organization has to reward their long-suffering fans with success all the way through the playoffs by playing football after the first half.  Tiger Woods once said, "Once you get a man down, you have to step on his neck."  It's time for the Chiefs to do that stepping, to show their willingness to fight to the end, leaving it all on the field.  It's the only way to turn the foam of fading hope into the rock of confidence.

It's time to prove to us, the fans, that you want this as badly as do we.