I became a Niners fan in 1999, the year Steve Young took a concussion to the head. At some point in the second quarter Young dropped back for a throw and got blindsided by Cardinals DB Aeneas Williams. This hit ended his season and his career. Though it was possible for Young to make a comeback the following season, he risked death if he took another blow to the head and decided not to chance it. The game was televised on Monday Night Football, so the moment remains vivid, one of my few lasting memories of Young’s career, and I suspect that is the case for many fans across the country.
National television appearances for the Niners was a staple back in the nineties, and I counted the number of appearances to gauge the popularity and importance of my favorite team. For example the Niners were televised on Monday night three times that year, and that number was tied with the Cowboys, Dolphins, Packers, Vikings, Broncos, and Jets. Airtime on ESPN also acted as the consensus opinion for fans across America, at least that was my belief. The more airtime NFL Live and SportsCenter devoted to the Niners, the more proud I was of my team, even when the news focused on Young’s status and future rather than the Niners’ disappointing season.
Even though Young’s final game ended with him sprawled on the field and unconscious, his humiliation and fall from greatness was short lived. Sports fans only had to endure newspaper articles, talk radio, and SportsCenter coverage about Young’s concussion for one season.
Compare the end of Young’s career to Jerry Rice’s. I had stopped following Rice after he signed with the Raiders, but through SportsCenter I still heard about his exploits. In those years he went from being the first option to a fringe player that teams no longer valued. Greatness on the field wanes, no matter how many records were broken or Super Bowl rings were won. All that is the past.
Watching Doyle Brunson play poker has become painful. To me he is the past his prime athlete that loves the game too much to quit. I feel embarrassed for him when he gets knocked out on television, especially the WSOP. He always smiles nervously at this point, and then tips his cowboy hat to the crowd. Everyone applauds him and some people scream his name, “DOYLE!” as he makes his exit. This act is both condescending and desirable. On one hand, Brunson is getting applauded for losing and not even finishing in the money, while on the other, if no one acknowledges him, that can send the message that no one cares, that no one appreciate what he means to poker.
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