The Year That Was(n't)

How do you sum up a year of life? What are the basic elements into which it can be broken? Weeks, days, moments. NIghts out, people met, missions accomplished. World news, states of mind, lessons learned. About a year ago this September, I traded in my adopted hometown of Philadelphia for Denver and the big relationship that now required relocation. As it turned out, the relationship was only a context for my situation, ending quickly. As I look back now, I realize that the real story is this lame duck year. Locked by my lease in a city I didn’t particularly like, but determined to hang on for the ride, though I might have to ad lib a little bit. I think we all have times like this, when things don't go as planned. Now that some time has passed and I have gained perspective, I can ask the age old Keanu Reevesian question: "Pfwhoa! Did that just happen?"

Despite failing to accomplish my original goal of snowboarding off into the purple mountained sunset, it remains a rather significant chapter of biography (to be written at a later date by Salman Rushdie). Sometimes it feels like my entire Colorado existence was all a dream; I’ve since returned to Philly and find myself typing in Rittenhouse Square, living in the same apartment as before, with no plan of ever leaving again. I’ve decided that the best way to commemorate the year is by assigning each major emotional stage a corresponding sports moment. Why? Because that’s the way my mind works. Ladies and gentleman, I give you Analogous Sports Chronology!

Autumn:

I arrive in my new mile high home just in time for the new football season. Hype and expectation abound for the new city and the new season, and both fill me with the same giddy sense of nervous excitement. My initial skepticism is quickly dispelled by a smooth first few weeks. I’m making dinner most nights, we’re laughing. Domesticity isn’t so bad after all. Likewise, the Broncos have started the season on a roll, with Jake Plummer also having a go at reliability. I have certainly never liked the Broncos, especially Elway, and always have been skeptical of fandom in cities that haven’t had at least 4-5 generations (with at least a Great Depression or World War) to let their loyalty fully mature. But now I live here. Would it be so bad being a Broncos guy? They have a fun history (The Orange Crush Defense), recent/consistent success, a great home field dynamic, and with all their stadiums in relative proximity to one another and downtown, great sports geography. The locals seemed sincere enough, considering most of them were first generation devotees. It seems safe to say, "So far, so good."

Winter:

The Broncos are still hot and Jake the Snake looks like an MVP candidate. As for me, well predictions and hype have been exposed for what they are, hot (and thin) air. By midseason, fates are largely decided, divisions secured, pecking order established, and my relationship is history. At this point, it looks like back in Philadelphia, the Eagles and I are on the same page: destructive behavior. Having already abandoned hopes for the playoffs, McNabb opts for surgery that will end the season. TO decides to punish himself by spending serious time with a sports agent and watching the Atlanta Hawks play basketball. Things have generally bottomed out, and no one is sure what just happened. People, places, and circumstances are fickle things and the butterflies in China had it out for both me and the Eagles. They call on Mike McMahon to lead the team through the tunnel each week and pretend their hearts are in it. I do the same. Maybe the 50 year old woman singing showtunes at the piano bar wants to be my sugar mama.

Spring:

Once you make that decision to mail things in for a year, your goals become mostly to avoid death and/or dismemberment by exerting more effort than necessary to complete any particular task. Let’s take a peek in on Larry Brown and the Knicks around this time. Not pretty. An atmosphere of hostility leaves nothing untainted and makes things miserable for everyone. Despite all the obvious tension, both sides actually share a common goal: Cut My Losses. Both are too mature and respectable (re: too afraid of the backlash) to do anything drastic midseason, but let's just say the lease isn’t going to be renewed. Coach already has his “Grandparenting The Right Way” book jacket photo sitting to plan, not to mention calling up every rookie in the league to tell them to get off his lawn. I start talking to people back in Philadelphia, “You know, I really miss the Italian Market, oooh, and diversity.” Spring is new life, right? Let’s just say the only things being hatched are plans for escape.

Summer:

The seasons and years don’t match up, but as I am preparing to move back to Philly, I feel like Michael Jordan. An epic stretch, but I think it’s worth saying. He never apologized for playing baseball, and he probably never regretted a minute of it. However, you got the feeling that once he made up his mind to make a comeback, he was probably the most relieved man on the planet. Every time someone said, “He’s coming back,” it was a little more real, one step closer to happening. He was returning to what he did best, with the people he probably never should have left. Sometimes we make things harder on ourselves than they need to be; that’s life. And if Mike and I have anything in common, it's that we were filled with a joy beyond words the first time we saw that skyline and knew that we were back to stay. You make promises to yourself never to leave and to make this time around even better. Only the new number 45 lets you know he ever left.

Maybe you need to leave the places you love to remember why you were there in the first place. I’m not naive enough to think things won’t ever change, MJ ended up in Washington somehow, but for now it feels like all is as it should be. Jordan and Pippen were back running Phil Jackson’s offense, and I’m back to bitching about SEPTA with a smile on my face as I walk through this beautiful city.

This has been a year I never want to forget, but it is good to be home.