The Bitter Pill 6: John Cena Gives Up

For more than two decades, WWE superstar John Cena lived by a pair of three-word mottos: “Hustle, loyalty, respect” and “Never give up.” Across nearly 25 years, he granted hundreds of Make-a-Wish requests, served as the undisputed face of WWE, and crafted a heroic legacy that spanned multiple generations of fans.

In July 2024, Cena announced that he would retire at the end of 2025, breaking the hearts of millions of wrestling fans. Yet the announcement also sparked immediate intrigue. Who would Cena face on his way out? Old rivals? Dream matches? A final spotlight on rising talent?

Few could have predicted what followed.

Cena’s 18-match retirement tour featured several notable moments: a second-place finish in the Royal Rumble, a victory inside the Elimination Chamber, and the most shocking development of all: his long-awaited heel turn. After years of fan speculation, Cena finally embraced the dark side, aligning himself with The Rock and Travis Scott, stunning the wrestling world by delivering a low blow to Cody Rhodes at the conclusion of Elimination Chamber.

For years, fans begged to see the company’s white knight bend the rules but Cena always resisted, determined to preserve his family-friendly image. When it finally happened, it felt historic - although the storyline ultimately lacked follow-through once Dwayne and Travis unexpectedly vanished from television.

Still, the heel turn opened the door for fresh matchups for a few months. Cena squared off against top babyfaces including Cody Rhodes, CM Punk, Sami Zayn, and longtime admirer R-Truth. Along the way, he broke Ric Flair’s long-standing world championship record, capturing a historic seventeenth title. But without meaningful direction, Cena’s villain run always felt temporary and quickly ran out of steam, not to mention that fans continued to cheer him despite his dastardly deeds. Entertaining as it was, it seemed inevitable that he would finish his career the way he started it - as a hero.

Eventually, he did pivot back to his old, righteous character. After a brief, almost abrupt redemption, the WWE Universe welcomed him back with open arms. Cena closed out his tour with strong performances with and against familiar foes like AJ Styles, Sheamus, and Rey Mysterio. He even defeated Dominik Mysterio to capture the Intercontinental Championship - the only major title that had eluded him - officially making Cena a Grand Slam Champion in the twilight of his career.

His final opponent was decided via a 16-man “Last Time Is Now” tournament featuring WWE and NXT talent, along surprise appearances from ex-WWE stars Zack Ryder and Dolph Ziggler. From early on, rumors pointed toward Gunther as the scripted winner. Gunther, who returned from an injury that kept him out of action for several months, had already established himself as a multi-time champion and recently retired Goldberg in the summer of 2025, and a probably “career ender” reputation wouldn’t be an unrealistic angle.

For some fans – myself included - that outcome felt potentially underwhelming. Cena’s final match seemed better suited for a long-standing rival like Randy Orton or The Miz, or even an impossible dream opponent like Edge, who is currently contracted by WWE’s main rival, AEW. But the rumors proved true. Gunther won the tournament and earned the right to face John Cena in his retirement match at Saturday Night’s Main Event in Washington, D.C.

The match itself was fine. It wasn’t a highlight-reel classic like Cena’s bout with AJ Styles, nor was it a one-sided demolition like his loss to Brock Lesnar. As the tour progressed, Cena showed signs of slowing down - precisely the reason he chose to retire while still capable. He wasn’t bad; he was simply no longer prime Cena. Against a methodical opponent like Gunther, that worked. The slower pace fit the moment.

The crowd was firmly in Cena’s corner, louder and more unified than perhaps any audience of Cena’s storied career. There seemed to be a genuine belief that he could pull off one last victory.

Industry tradition suggests otherwise. Retirement matches are often about passing the torch, and legends typically go out on their backs, looking up at the lights. Ric Flair did it. Kurt Angle did it. Batista did it. The Undertaker did it. Goldberg lost consciousness in his last match with Gunther. That’s just how wrestling works.

But John Cena felt different. It felt like maybe - just maybe - WWE would let us see Cena’s hand raised one last time.

In the episode or two preceding Saturday Night’s Main Event, Gunther promised he would make Cena go against everything he preached; he promised to make Cena give up.

That idea alone felt wrong. The man whose entire career was built on “Never Give Up” was not going to tap out. Not in his final match.

Throughout the bout, Cena delivered his signature offense - the Five Knuckle Shuffle, the “five moves of doom,” and multiple Attitude Adjustments, including one through the announce table and another from the middle ropes. Gunther kicked out every time. He fought back relentlessly, chopping Cena down and repeatedly locking in the sleeper hold - the same move that ended Goldberg’s career.

Surely they weren’t going to make John Cena submit.

…Right?

As the match wore on, Cena struggled to stay upright, narrowly escaping defeat multiple times. The crowd roared, chanting “Don’t give up!” and unleashing venom toward Gunther, urging their hero onward.

But time and time again, Gunther cinched in that sleeper hold, and Cena started to fade. Finally, in a moment that will be talked about and debated for years to come, John Cena smiled.

And then, softly, he tapped out.

John Cena gave up.

This just felt wrong. Cena didn’t look overpowered. He didn’t look completely out of gas. He just looked tired - disappointed, even. Sad. The moment felt symbolic, as if Cena were quietly acknowledging, “My time is over. The job is done.”

This week on his social media accounts, Cena posted a captionless image of Obi-Wan Kenobi smiling just before being struck down by Darth Vader. The comparison spoke for itself.

The crowd, meanwhile, was stunned into near silence as Gunther’s hand was raised. A smattering of applause followed - more out of appreciation for Cena than appreciation of the moment itself - but it hardly resembled the sendoff WWE likely envisioned. Wrestlers soon filed to the ring, led by WWE Chief Content Officer Paul “Triple H” Levesque, who was met with loud boos and profanity-laced chants. The tonal shift was jarring: from Cena’s shocking defeat to Triple H laughing and grinning as he gestured toward the video board, where a triumphant highlight package of Cena’s career began to play.

Fans could do nothing but watch in disbelief as the curtain fell on an unrivaled career during a moment that should have felt triumphant but simply didn’t.

Yahoo! Sports journalist Ariel Helwani addressed Cena’s retirement on his podcast, The Ariel Helwani Show, pushing back against the familiar argument that this was “what wrestling tradition demands”:

“People will say, ‘This is what John wanted - he wanted to give back to the business.’ And to that I say that’s nonsense. That ideology belongs to wrestling in the ’70s and ’80s, not the era we’re living in now. Who wanted to see John Cena lose again and again in his final months? And not only does he lose his retirement match, but the guy who told us for over 20 years to never give up loses by submission. The match never should have been Cena vs. Gunther, and it sure as [expletive] never should have ended with Cena tapping out.”

Helwani also suggested that WWE may as well have told its audience, “You want this? Well, here’s the exact opposite.” During the match, fans loudly chanted “Super Cena,” a nickname once used mockingly by detractors who resented his seemingly invincible booking. On this night, however, the chant carried nostalgia and affection. The fans were trying to will him to victory. And what they received in return was a version of John Cena who abandoned the very mantra that defined his career, tapping out and exiting with a whimper.

Bleacher Report echoed that frustration, criticizing Cena’s retirement run as a whole and calling it a program that “largely missed the mark,” citing inconsistent storytelling, the failed heel turn, and a lack of meaningful payoff. What should have been a legacy-defining farewell instead became a wave of nostalgia filled with squandered opportunities.

The larger problem for WWE is that moments like this tend to linger with its audience. Last weekend, fans in Washington were taunting Gunther for having tapped out to Jey Uso at WrestleMania last April; there is little chance they’ll forget that he ended John Cena’s career via one of the most pathetic-looking tap-outs of all time.

WWE may be comfortable doubling down on the idea that this was “best for business,” and to Gunther’s credit, his character thrives in hostility. But Cena’s farewell wasn’t supposed to be about solidifying Gunther as a star. It was supposed to be about John Cena.

At a time when WWE is steadily pricing fans out of live events and television programming, the company had a chance to give its audience something simple and rare: a joyful goodbye. A victory lap. A final image worthy of the man who carried the brand for a generation.

The fans deserved better. John Cena deserved better. Instead, WWE chose an ending that undercut the very values its biggest star spent decades promoting.

I know it’s all part of the show - but for once, wouldn’t a happy ending have been enough?

Hustle, loyalty, respect. Never give up… unless it’s the final match of your career and the script says otherwise.

*****

The Bitter Pill is an ongoing series containing my thoughts on moments that make me wonder why I even watch sports (even the pre-determined ones) in the first place. For a nice jog down Pain Boulevard, read the other posts here. You can also try to find me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter (here and here), and explain why it's still real to you, dang it, in the comments section below.

Until next time.

The Bitter Pill 5: #TankNote Backfires

It's a tough life, being a Utah Jazz fan. The past four or five years have been particularly miserable, from Rudy Gobert's contraction of coronavirus shutting down the NBA to the outright implosion of our roster (resulting in the trades of Gobert to Minnesota and Donovan Mitchell to Cleveland). The Jazz have dwelt in the absolute basement of the NBA standings for some time now, with Utah's CEO Danny Ainge thinking that the best path forward is to trade away our best players and amass a truly insane amount of second round draft picks. Needless to say, watching the Jazz get continually pummeled by 30 points and lost almost every night has not been fun. In fact, for all intents and purposes, I've stopped watching.

Stopped watching, I say, to the extent that my four-year-old firstborn son (named Stockton) has occasionally thought that the Utah Jazz were a hockey team.

Well, the Jazz finally did it this year. We finally came out on top... or bottom, as it were - winners of the ludicrous "tank-a-thon" race to the worst record in the league. Allegedly, this earned the Jazz the highest odds to get the number one pick in the upcoming 2025 draft. The odds, they said, were a 14% chance that the Jazz would get the best pick. But I had to wonder... isn't that just a nice way of saying that there was an 86% chance that we wouldn't get the number one pick? I mean, look at what happened to the Detroit Pistons last year: they were almost historically bad, then fell all the way to the fifth pick. The worst-case scenario for the Jazz before tonight's lottery would also have resulted in sliding all the way down to five, so, naturally, that's where I assumed that Utah would land. I tried to convince myself that I was just being a pessimist... but only time would tell.

I'll cut to the chase. We fell to five. Worst-case scenario. I KNEW IT.

(Also, side note - please, someone, explain this to me: how on earth does it make sense that the Jazz had a 47% chance of getting the fifth pick in the first place? Like, just flip a coin and we'll see if we're #5? That makes zero sense to me. Shouldn't those odds basically be inverted, almost? Of course we got the fifth pick! So dumb.)

Now, another one of the many things that are so stupid about this is that the three teams who ended up in the top three had no business being there.

• Philadelphia is a perennial Eastern Conference playoff contender that had an unusually bad year. They had less than an 11% chance of getting the third pick. Who are we to doubt "The Process" that resulted in drafting Joel Embiid at number 3 in 2014, Jahlil Okafor (lol) with the third pick in 2015, and Ben Simmons (lol) with the number one pick in 2016? Haven't they been rewarded enough??
• San Antonio, who just won the lottery two years ago and has already been the center of some NBA conspiracy theories (like getting the number one pick to select Tim Duncan after their hall of fame center David Robinson got hurt), had a 6% chance of getting the second pick this year. Perhaps, this was one final gift to the franchise, after their long-tenured coach Gregg Popovich announced his retirement a few days ago.
• And Dallas, who made the play-in tournament and barely missed the actual playoffs this season, had a 1.8% chance of getting the number one pick.

What makes this even worse and much more suspicious is that Dallas just made one of the worst trades in the history of professional sports three months ago, when they dealt likely future hall of famer Luka Doncic to the Los Angeles Lakers for the absurdly injury-prone center Anthony Davis (who promptly injured himself several times after becoming a Maverick). Unsurprisingly, social media and basketball fans at large mocked Dallas for the transaction, and Mavericks fans serenaded their home team with chants of "Fire Nico" (Harrison, the Dallas general manager) chants just four seconds into the first game of their post-Doncic era.

Could this be the most recent instance of the NBA rewarding a team and fan base that notoriously lost a megastar? LeBron James left the Cleveland Cavaliers with his infamous "Decision" press conference in 2010, then Cleveland got the number one pick three out of the next four years. (Honestly, I forgot how egregious that was. Insane!)

Another eyebrow-raising draft lottery was in 2019, when the New Orleans Pelicans got the top pick after the aforementioned Anthony Davis publicly demanded a trade (and was ultimately traded to Los Angeles, where he played until being traded for Doncic). The Pelicans would go on to select the draft's prospect, Zion Williamson, that summer.

Of course, the most popular theory that points to the draft lottery being rigged is the 1985 NBA draft, which brought Georgetown center Patrick Ewing to the New York Knicks, one of the biggest media markets in the league. Similarly, one could argue that Dallas sending Luka to Los Angeles (another of the league's hottest destinations) then being rewarded with the top pick in the subsequent draft could have been a conspiracy.

But another layer to this whole fiasco that hurts for Jazz fans is that Utah facilitated the trade that allowed the Luka-AD trade to happen in the first place! And, on top of that, Danny Ainge claims that he wasn't even aware that he was helping the Lakers! DANNY! WHAT WERE YOU DOING??

If nothing else, tonight's draft lottery disaster should prove that tanking doesn't work. Here was an interesting stat tweeted out by ESPN's Field Yates:

I have never been a proponent of teams losing on purpose, nor do I think that teams should be rewarded for (intentionally) playing badly... but that's just how the NBA is set up. Tanking is incentivized, unlike any other professional sport, and I absolutely hate it. But, if those are the ground rules, if that's the way this world works, and if the Jazz really went to all that effort to claim the worst record, why couldn't it have just worked ONE TIME??

Unfortunately (and extremely predictably), the Jazz were as unlucky as possible tonight, and it will almost certainly result in another "rebuilding" (AKA "tanking") season in 2025. We're really going to try to do this all over again next year. I feel so bad for the Jazz players. It can't be fun to be a part of this process, and it seems as though there is no end in sight. Ugh.

I, for one, have no interest in that at all.

Go Utah Hockey Club Mammoth!

*****

If you've got nothing else going on right now and feel like reading about some of my other most painful sports memories, consider checking out these old posts:

• Utah Jazz, 2021 - The Bitter Pill 4: Another Playoff Choke
• Utah Utes and New Orleans Saints, 2019 - The Bitter Pill 3: The Pass Interference Special
• Utah Jazz, 2016 - Another Bitter Pill: Kobe drops 60 against the Jazz
• Texas Rangers, 2012-13, 2015; Chicago Cubs, 2003; New Orleans Saints, 2010; Utah Utes, 2010; Utah Jazz, 1996-98; WCW Bash at the Beach, 1996 - The Bitter Pill: My worst sports memories

All right, somebody take away my technology. I've had enough for the day. I apologize profusely to my family for being a giant, breathing waste of space since 5:00 PM this evening. I promise, I'll make up for it tomorrow.

But the pain will last a lifetime. The pain will never fade. At least I saw it coming.

The Bitter Pill 4: Another Playoff Choke

It's a well-documented fact that I am cursed as a sports fan. Cursed as a human, really, because I discovered at a very young age that I like sports. And sports end in disappointment 99 percent of the time. In my 34 years of life, sports teams for which I have an active rooting interest have won championships two times:

• 2009 New Orleans Saints
• 2019 Washington Nationals

Oh, and then there was Real Salt Lake, which won the Major League Soccer Cup in 2009, and although that's my local soccer team, I wouldn't classify myself as an actual fan because I rarely watch them play.

The University of Utah beat Alabama in the 2009 Sugar Bowl, but I didn't start attending The U until that fall, so I wasn't technically a student at that point.

I became a fan of the Texas Rangers the year after they lost in two consecutive World Series, and they haven't come close to making it back any time since then, 10 years ago. However, Rougned Odor landed a really solid punch on Jose Bautista in 2016, which was cool.

I stopped cheering for the Chicago Cubs after following them for my entire childhood about two or three years before they finally won a World Series. It got to a point when I just couldn't handle all the losing anymore.

Of course, there are my beloved Utah Jazz, which lost to Michael Jordan's Chicago Bulls in back-to-back NBA championships, but that's another story for another time.

"This Could Be the Year"

This year, I really thought the Jazz had a chance to go all the way. I really, truly did. There was a stretch of the season where we won, like, 23 straight home games, I think, and we were just blowing fools out by 20 points every night. It was so much fun to watch. Honestly, if the Jazz didn't go up by 20 at some point in the game, it was almost disappointing to me. I remember that there was a point in time - I think it was February 25 or something? - where I actually had the thought, "This could be the year."

Yikes. For the first time in my life, I actually thought those words.

But can you blame me? The Jazz were the best team in the National Basketball Association for nearly the entire 2020-21 season, finishing with the outright best record in the league for the first time in franchise history. This earned them the #1 seed for the playoffs and home court advantage throughout.

There was some speculation and discussion about whether the Jazz would keep playing hard through the end of the season to clinch that top seed - and whether they even should. It sometimes becomes a controversial strategy for teams to "tank" (intentionally lose games) to position themselves in a favorable postseason matchup, sometimes to the ire of basketball fans. Such was not the case for this year's Utah Jazz; I was proud to see that we kept fighting to the very end, securing the best record by a half game over the Phoenix Suns.

I thought, if nothing else, we could hang our proverbial hat on the fact that we were, statistically, the best team in the league this year. We played really well all season - despite nagging injuries to several key players - had three All-Stars for the first time since the 1980s, and ultimately had a Coach of the Year finalist in Quin Snyder; two finalists for Sixth Man of the Year, Joe Ingles and eventual winner Jordan Clarkson; and the now-three-time Defensive Player of the Year, Rudy Gobert. Without a doubt, this regular season was one for the record books. And it felt good. Really good.

The Injury Bug Strikes... But Would it Even Matter?

One of the few major concerns, heading into the playoffs, were injuries to the Jazz's two most important offensive players: Donovan Mitchell, who missed the last 16 games of the regular season due to ankle pain; and Mike Conley, whose recurring hamstring soreness kept him in and out of action throughout some stretches of the regular season and forced him to miss Game 1 of the first round, against his former team, the Memphis Grizzlies.

The Jazz would go on to lose Game 1 against Memphis, at home, which was quite disconcerting. In my mind, Memphis was a great matchup for the Jazz; we beat them three times in a six-day span during the regular season (no exaggeration), but my prediction of a four-game sweep in the first round did not come to pass..

But Conley returned for Game 2, and the Jazz beat Memphis four straight times, eliminating the Grizzlies in five games. Because that matchup ended earlier than other Western Conference series, the Jazz were forced to wait six days for the winner of the Clippers-Mavericks series. Ultimately, the nationally acclaimed Los Angeles Clippers moved on, which didn't scare me at all. The talking heads on sports radio love teams from big markets like L.A. and always favor them in the postseason, so their words meant nothing to me.

Unlike the Jazz, the Clippers tanked their final few games of the regular season - most likely to avoid having to play their rivals, the Lakers, in the first round - and it took them a full seven-game series to squeak past the Dallas. Well, the Jazz were clearly a better team than the Mavericks in the regular season, so I figured the Jazz would win the second round series convincingly, in five or six games, and move on to the Western Conference Finals for the first time since 2009.

Meanwhile, LeBron James' Los Angeles Clippers got ousted in the first round by the 2-seed Phoenix Suns, which was hilarious, and the Golden State Warriors didn't even make the playoffs this season, so things were looking really good for the Jazz. Certainly, a Utah/Phoenix showdown in the Western Conference Finals was imminent.

The Jazz won the first two games against the Clippers, thanks to some incredible offensive performances by Donovan Mitchell and a Game 1-winning block by Rudy Gobert. What was better? The Jazz had done it without Mike Conley even lacing up his high-tops. The hamstring injury keep him sidelined for the first two games and, thankfully, it didn't hurt us. I did get a bit concerned, though, when Paul George collided with Donovan with seven seconds left in a game that was already out of reach for the Clippers. The game was all but over, yet there was our superstar, writing on the ground in pain. Donovan went down hard and looked like his ankle was really bothering him. However, he'd have a couple days to rest up and we'd be all right. Tired bodies notwithstanding, we were up 2-0 and things were looking good.

With injuries piling up for the remaining teams around the league, if we could just get our guys back up to full strength, we'd have an amazing chance at making a run to the Finals, and our best shot, arguably, ever to actually win it. "Rest up, boys," I pleaded, "and take care of business."

There Was No Way the Clippers Would Beat Us... Right??

Two games in, I was very excited. All I wanted was a split of the next two games in Los Angeles, and the Jazz would finish it off in five games, I told myself. There was no way the Clippers would beat this Jazz team four times out of the next five games. Not a chance.

The series shifted to Hollywood, and the Jazz got thumped in Game 3. It was ok, I thought. In fact, I wasn't even stressed at all! Just win Game 4 and bring it back home to close it out. Easy.

Game 4 was ugly. Conley remained out due to injury, and the Jazz just couldn't figure it out. The series came back to Utah, tied 2-2. The Jazz came out on fire in the first half. Bojan Bogdonavic seemingly could not miss. The Jazz shot upwards of 60 percent from the field in the first 24 minutes. But we went into halftime with a measly five-point lead. Shooting the way we did, you would have thought we'd be up by double digits, at least. Coming back out in the second half, it was like we forgot how to put the ball in the hoop. The Clippers kept pouring on the offense and the Jazz couldn't get any stops. We lost Game 5 in front of our notoriously loud home crowd and would have to head back to California for Game 6 with our backs against the wall.

Spoiler: Game 6 was very similar to Game 5. The Jazz came out blistering hot. I even tweeted, "The Jazz are not messing around." We built a 25-point lead at one point. It was glorious. "Stomp the throat," I texted my family. Just keep the pedal to the metal and bring it back home for Game 7. In the second half, however, the Jazz made some very interesting defensive decisions. And when I say that, I mean that we, for some dang reason, chose to let a Clippers player stand wide open in the corner on every single play. It's ok to do that sometimes if the guy you're leaving open can't shoot. But guess what? The Clippers COULD. NOT. MISS. They should have called me up and put me in because I totally would have stood in that corner with my hands up. That's more than anybody on the court was doing!

The villain this time around was not Michael Jordan. It wasn't even Denver Nuggets stars Jamal Murray or Nikola Jokic, like it was last season WHEN THE JAZZ BLEW A 3-1 LEAD. I DIDN'T EVEN BLOG ABOUT THAT ONE! No, no. It was some dude named Terance Mann. Like, I honestly didn't even know who this guy was a couple weeks ago. But we left him open time and time and time and time and time again and he lit us up for a career high 39 points. That's more points than he ever even scored in a college game. Now, the Jazz are notorious for letting random no-name players get career highs, but in an elimination game with our season - and possibly an NBA championship - on the line?!? Terance Mann?? He only missed six shots in the entire game, and he was shooting a lot. That's an incredible night, no matter who you are. And we let him absolutely wreck us.

Needless to say, the Jazz lost their fourth straight game to these Clippers -- a game in which their best player, Kawhi Leonard, did not even play, mind you! -- and we got bounced from the playoffs.

Let this sink in: we played our butts off in the regular season got beaten in the second round by a team that tanked, heading into the playoffs. Ugh. So dumb.

Also frustrating: we were back, somewhat, at full strength for Game 6, in the sense that Mike and Donovan were both playing, but you could tell that Mike was kind of just going through the motions (bless him for even trying), and Donovan looked like he was maybe 70 or 80 percent healthy at best for the final two or three games of the series.

And we lost to a team led by freaking Paul George (who will go down as the second most overrated first-ballot Hall of Famer of all time, next to Tracy McGrady) and some dude named Terance Mann, who won't even be in the league anymore in three years. Mark my words on that one. Why. Why does this happen.

Editor's note: Terance Mann had a whopping 9 points in Game 1 of the Western Conference Finals.

I was basically furious, but I held it together because this is just the kind of thing that the Jazz do, every single year. I even predicted it on two separate occasions, earlier that day. "Double-digit Jazz loss." I knew it was going to happen, and then it did.

Oh, What Could Have Been...

Of all the years for us to choke, why did it have to be this year? No LeBron, no Steph Curry, home court advantage all the way... This was our year! After all the bull crap we had to go through when Rudy Gobert tested positive for COVID-19 last season, resulting in the complete shut-down of sports in North America... In a year where a flock of birds hit the team's charter plane and caused them to make an emergency landing... In a year where LeBron and Kevin Durant openly mocked the Utah Jazz during the selection of All-Star teams... Man, there should have been such an incredible "30 For 30" documentary about this team. "The Team of Destiny," they would have called us. The team that defied all odds and all the hate and disbelief from the national media. That should have been us. That should have been this year. The path was practically paved in gold.

Phoenix would have been tough, but the league ruled Chris Paul out for (so far) at least Game 1 of the Western Conference Finals for COVID-19 health and safety protocols, and the Suns without CP3 did not worry me. The only two teams I really didn't want to face late in the playoffs were Philadelphia and Brooklyn, both of which were eliminated in the Eastern Conference within days of the Jazz losing. If we could have made it to the championship, we would have gone up against either Milwaukee or Atlanta (the two teams currently facing off in the Eastern Conference Finals). Man, that would have been perfect. Could have been Jazz in five. Sickening. Soul-shattering for lifelong fans like me.

It's just so frustrating to spend all season watching the games - and I try not to miss many games, if we're playing well, which we were! - and to pour in countless hours of my attention, then have them rip my stupid heart out and stomp on it over and over again.

Why didn't the Jazz make the appropriate defensive adjustments in the second half of those second-round games? How could they play so well in the first two quarters, then just abruptly stop making threes? Why couldn't the injuries to our star players have come at the beginning of the season, not at the end of it? Couldn't we channel that mid-season magic one more time and run a string of eight or 10 consecutive home victories? Is any of that too much to ask?

Pain. It's just... pain.

As my friend Scott Aylett and I discussed after the abrupt end to the Jazz's season, there are a million things that would be more satisfying than to get emotionally invested in sports ever again. We could stare at the wall and watch paint dry. We could go kick some dirt around for 15 minutes, which could possibly provide some unexpected joy. There are movies and TV shows and video games and books out there that will give a tremendous amount more satisfaction in a two-hour span than can ever be felt at the end of a basketball season.

Why was I cursed to be this way? Why must I continue to follow sports, year after year? How could I be so foolish?

It sucks to think it, but maybe it's true: if the Jazz couldn't get it done this year, with everything we had going for us, maybe it's never going to happen at all.

Yet, will I keep watching? Of course. What kind of a stupid question is that?

Death, Taxes and Eternal Sadness

I used to joke that 80 percent of the sadness in my life came from being a sports fan, and the other 20 percent came from women, but I'm married now, which means that sports account for all of the sadness I experience, and that's a straight-up fact. It's a painful, painful life that I've chosen.

All I can hope now is that I am reincarnated as a non-sports fan in my next life. Or as a monkey. That might be kind of exciting, too.

*****

Related Blogs:

If, for some sick and twisted reason, you kept reading until the end of this blog and thought it was funny and/or entertaining, first of all, how dare you take joy in my pain? Second of all, you might find these other blogs interesting:

• The Bitter Pill: My worst sports memories
• Another Bitter Pill: Kobe drops 60 against the Jazz
• #Betrayward: Too Big Yo [for his britches]
• The Bitter Pill 3: The Pass Interference Special

Thanks for reading... and I'll most likely talk to you at the end of next season.

The Bitter Pill 3: The Pass Interference Special

Not two months after THIS NO-CALL cost the University of Utah a shot at the PAC-12 Championship...

THIS NO-CALL cost the New Orleans Saints a virtually guaranteed trip to the Super Bowl:

But hey, you know what? Whatever. I don't care. I'm not mad.

For more reasons why I hate sports, check out these old posts:

• The Bitter Pill: My worst sports memories
• Another Bitter Pill: Kobe drops 60 against the Jazz
• #Betrayward: Too Big Yo [for his britches]

Another Bitter Pill: Kobe drops 60 against the Jazz

I wrote a blog last fall called "The Bitter Pill: My Worst Sports Memories." In it, I recounted the most terrible things that have ever happened to me, as a life-long sports fan. Last night, on April 13, 2016, it happened again.

A new season and high hopes for the Utah Jazz

I really thought the Utah Jazz were going to make the NBA playoffs this year. We've been in "rebuild mode" for a few years now, but I feel like this group - built around Gordon Hayward, Derrick Favors, Rudy Gobert, Rodney Hood and Alec Burks - is a pretty decent young team. We finished the 2014-15 season on a high note, missing the playoffs, but going on a run down the stretch that had me excited for the 2015 campaign to start up.

Things took a hit before we could even get the train rolling this year, as our supposed "point guard of the future," Dante Exum, suffered a season-ending injury while playing in the off-season in his native Australia. That was just the beginning, really, as 2015 turned out to be an injury plagued year for many of our core players. Alec Burks broke his leg, Rudy Gobert sprained his MCL, Derrick Favors hurt his back... It was not a healthy year for us.

Despite the injuries, we were able to hang in there (thanks in some part to a "down year" in the Western Conference - only Golden State, San Antonio and Oklahoma City stood out as dominant teams) and we were fighting for our postseason lives to the bitter end, so to speak. With only a few games to play, Utah, Dallas and Houston were jockeying for the seventh and eighth playoff spots in the West. With a few games left, all the Jazz needed to do, simply put, was win their games. After a truly unfortunate loss to an almost entirely depleted Los Angeles Clippers team, the Jazz had three games to play and really needed to "win out" in order to make the playoffs. We beat the Nuggets soundly in Denver and approached the most important game of the year: a showdown between the then-sixth-seeded Dallas Mavericks.

I was at the Jazz-Mavericks game in Salt Lake City on Monday. I was pumped. I don't believe Dallas is that good this year and I thought that, with our playoff hopes on the line, the Jazz would step it up, rise to the occasion and bring us a sweet, sweet victory. Uh. Yeah. About that... It didn't happen. We looked terrible, couldn't hit uncontested shots and lost by nine. It was worse than it sounds. With a minute to play, I thought to myself that, if they needed a good reaction shot for TV, I'd be the poster boy for the "man, it sucks to be a Jazz fan right now" expression. Houston won that night, meaning that, in order to make the playoffs, we'd need to beat the Lakers in L.A. and we'd also need the Rockets to lose to the hapless Sacramento Kings at home. I'd later discover that Sacramento wasn't even sending four or five of their key players on the trip. In other words, we were done for. We wouldn't be making the playoffs yet again and our season was, effectively, over. My thoughts proved prophetic, as the Rockets thrashed the Kings last night before our 8:30 battle with the Lakers had even tipped.

So that was it. It was over. We had nothing to play for. I just hoped our players didn't know that.

The Kobe Bryant Farewell Tour

It's here that our story really gets exciting. You see, unless you've been hiding under a rock somewhere for the past six or seven months, you're well aware that this was Kobe Bryant's final season in the NBA. After a 20-year career, he was calling it quits and hanging up the Nikes. Finally, for the first time in two decades, it seemed like Kobe was actually being a nice guy. This year, he was respectful with the media, kind to the fans and seemed, for once, to actually be a nice guy. He was smiling more, he looked like he was relaxed and, you know what? He almost seemed likable!

Wait, wait. What am I saying? This is Kobe Bryant we're talking about. The Kobe Bryant that had been a bitter rival of my Utah Jazz since those infamous playoff airballs in his 1997 rookie season. This is the guy that knocked the Jazz out of the playoffs three years in a row. This is the guy that waived Karl Malone off for a pick during an All-Star game. While I do admit that "NBA Courtside 2 featuring Kobe Bryant" was an awesome game on Nintendo 64 and that "Afro Kobe" was an exciting player to watch as I grew up, this guy, ultimately, was the arrogant, cocky jerk that I'd come to hate since my childhood. And now he was playing the final game of his career against the Utah Jazz. At long last, we would get the last laugh and send Kobe packing for good. Heck, the previous time we faced the Lakers this season, we beat them by 48 - the worst loss of Kobe's entire career. It was glorious.

My family is full of big-time Jazz fans. I told my mom yesterday afternoon that we should beat the Lakers by 35 points - 15 points, minimum. I told my dad and brother, Austin, that losing to this Lakers team would be almost unforgivable. Let me clarify - these are not your daddy's Los Angeles Lakers. These Lakers SUCK. They entered last night's game with a 16-65 record - the worst in their franchise's history. I almost felt bad that Kobe was being sent out with such horrendous, lazy teammates. Almost. But it was Kobe and I hate him and I loved that the Lakers had become one of the laughing stocks of the league. Surely, we'd beat them. Maybe we'd let Kobe have a little fun, but there was no way we'd lose to this team, regardless of playoff implications.

#MambaDay

The Lakers Kobe kept things close early, taking full responsibility of his team's scoring (and shooting) efforts for the first half. The Jazz weren't playing very well initially, but we eventually pulled ahead by a dozen or so and I remember commenting to my mom, with whom I was watching the game, that it looked like we were finally going to blow them away, much to the dismay of the celebrities in attendance.

The world was watching, certainly.

Rumor has it that the worst seats in the house were going for $800 and those who wanted to sit courtside were paying, allegedly, 20 times that much. Ridiculous, if you ask me, but whatever. Their money, not mine. Good for them.

As the game went on, it was evident to even the least knowledgeable of viewers that Kobe (as was often the case for most of his career) had no intention of passing. Basically, the other four Lakers on the court at any given time were tasked with two or three responsibilities: get the ball to Kobe, get the heck out of the way and rebound it if he misses. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Let's get one thing straight - Bald, 37-year-old Kobe ain't Afro Kobe. No, no. Bald, 37-year-old Kobe is a relatively inaccurate jump-shooter who occasionally gets a couple to drop for him and semi-frequently turns the ball over. As he continued hucking up mid-range shots, he clanked a couple off the backboard without even drawing iron and even missed a couple point-blank lay-ups. I chuckled a little bit without much concern for the outcome of the game. It was inevitable that Kobe would "get his," so to speak, and his team, as per usual, would likely end up losing the game.

But Kobe mustered his inner "Mamba" and willed his team himself within a few points of the Jazz with only a few minutes left in regulation. By George, the Lakers he even took the lead with under a minute to play! Are you kidding me, Jazz? Stomp on the cockroach and get it done! The Staples Center was going berserk and the internet, as they say, was in the process of breaking.

Indeed, the world was watching.

A Hollywood ending

When Kobe hit a jumper to take the lead with 32 seconds left, I had a pretty good feeling that it was over, just as ESPN could have scripted it. David Stern would have been incredibly proud of the way things were shaping up. In my wildest dreams, I could envision Kobe bricking a game winner - the last shot of his career - as the Jazz squeaked out a pathetic victory. But, deep down inside, I knew that wasn't going to happen. A couple of free throws later, Kobe Bryant had scored 60 points - SIXTY - and he was checking out for the final time with four seconds on the clock, to the raucous applause of the thousands in attendance and the millions watching around the world. Kobe once again had beaten the Jazz and he was retiring on top of the world.

Gutted. Sickened. Furious. Words almost cannot describe my anger following the Jazz-Lakers game that took place last night. It gave me a headache, to be quite honest. I drove home in silence, half of the way because I didn't want to think about it. As excited as I had been about the end of the '14-'15 season, that's exactly the opposite of how mad I was last night. Let's put it this way - I can't remember being this mad about the outcome of a sporting event since Michael Jordan pushed off in 1998.

This was a night people will be talking for the rest of our lives. No doubt, Kobe put on a show for his adoring fans - and good for him. That's exactly what everyone wanted to see, and he gave it to them. Sixty points. That's incredible. But let's take a closer look at a couple things - if nothing else, simply as a way for me to vent my feelings and in hopes that maybe one or two of you will take pity on me and make me feel justified in thinking this way. Surely, I can't be the ONLY person with whom last night's results didn't sit quite right.

A-Town analysis

It was a glorious night for Sportscenter, I'm sure. I didn't watch it. Couldn't bring myself to do that. But the great thing for Kobe is that whenever anyone reflects on his final game, nobody will ever bring up the fact that it took him FIFTY SHOT ATTEMPTS to score 60 points. I'm coming off the heels of a churchball season in which I'm not quite certain that I took 50 shot attempts, period. In fact, we're probably lucky that he ONLY scored 60 points. If reining (and likely repeating) MVP Steph Curry was allowed to shoot 50 times in one game, he probably would have scored 120 points on the Jazz. If Kobe had even a remotely efficient shooting night, based on the number of three-pointers he was shooting, he probably should have more like 80 points.

Let's take a look at Kobe's shot chart from last night, as tweeted out by @ESPNStatsInfo:

Not to toot my own horn (@atownmania), but I thought I summed the shot chart up perfectly when I retweeted the photo and added, "Looks like he made a couple of 'em."

Now, I didn't see the game when Wilt Chamberlain scored 100 points, but I truly believe that what wound up lost in the hubbub of Hollywood glitz and glamour is the realization that what the world witnessed last night was the most selfish display I have ever seen in all of sports. LOOK HOW MANY SHOTS HE MISSED! And a lot of those misses WEREN'T EVEN CLOSE! But, in the end, nobody cares about the 28 shots that he missed, only the 60 points that he scored. He missed 15 threes, people. That's not good. "Black Mamba"? More like "Black Hole"! This was the Kobe of old - the Kobe who only cares for himself and his own stats and self-promotion. If any other player (think LeBron James, first and foremost) had taken 50 shots in a game with such sporadic (in)efficiency, they'd have been burned alive at the stake, but this was Kobe and, uh, "Kobe forever and always," I guess.

Why, oh why, did it have to be us?

Perhaps, for me, the most infuriating thing of all is that the Lakers sucked horrendously all season long - remember, we beat them by 48 last time and they didn't seem affected by the loss whatsoever - and Kobe finally decides to show up and play ball. I've always looked at teams like the good Laker teams and the Spurs... the New England Patriots, as well... as teams who can flip a switch whenever they want and say, "The regular season doesn't mean crap for us, but let's just make the playoffs and then we'll actually try." That bugs the heck out of me. Well, Kobe flipped the switch last night. I didn't think he was particularly good and he definitely wasn't dominant, by any stretch of the imagination. If you're going to shoot 50 times, you're going to score some points. But Kobe put on a doozy of a performance in the fourth quarter, single-handedly outscoring the Jazz, and we just couldn't deal with it. He made shots when it counted and we didn't.

Based on the way Kobe handled himself this season, I probably would have thought it was cool to see him put on a show like that, as long as it were against any other team in the league. Why couldn't his final game have been against the New Orleans Pelicans or the New York Knicks or the Oklahoma City Thunder? That would have been fine with me. But, of course, as the basketball gods intended for it to be, his final game was against my Utah Jazz... This was against my team that I've loved for my entire life. It was not cool, it was not fun to watch and I didn't enjoy it at all.

As if the images of Michael Jordan PUSHING OFF for his supposed "final shot" in 1998 haven't scarred me badly enough, now I get MJ's "final game" and Kobe's final game, combined. The double whammy of double whammies. I've lived with the outcome of the 1998 NBA Finals for 18 years now (wow) and it's rough. It really is. That was one of the worst moments of my life. Honestly, it was! That was really difficult to watch as a 12-year-old kid and it still brings back some bad memories. Now, every time somebody mentions Kobe Bryant's legacy, they'll say, "Hey, remember when Kobe dropped 60 in his finale game? Who were they playing again? Oh yeah, it was the Utah Jazz, wasn't it?" Once again, the Jazz are an iconic part of basketball history, forever ingrained in the annals of time. Why did it have to be us? Of all the teams, why?

I see pride, I see power... J/K, I don't.

I tried to avoid Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and anything else last night that would have rubbed Kobe's glorious evening in my face any more than was necessary, so I didn't really get to hear what the Jazz players were thinking after the game ended. But I'll tell you what - I'll be terribly disappointed if nobody went straight back to the locker room and kicked a chair over or something. That's what I would have done. And, by the sounds of it, I'm not confident that there was any chair-kicking involved.

Based on the tweets I saw from Jazz beat writer @DJJazzyJody (who I typically find to be a combination of moderately informative, smug and annoying), it seems like many of the Jazz players were just happy to have been there.

Trey Lyles: "It’s a great thing to be a part of."

We lost to one of the most pathetic teams in recent memory, Trey. That's not a great thing to be a part of.

Rodney Hood: "I was in awe. I know we’re playing against him, but that's a [heck] of a way to go out into the sunset."

Sounds like the more he scored, the more we watched. The only one who deserved to be watching in awe was Trey Burke, who has been inexplicably benched for the the final dozen games of the season. He had a front row seat and had no chance of getting off the bench last night.

Gordon Hayward: "It was a fun night, a historic night. ... It was definitely vintage Kobe. It was cool."

Cool, Gordon? Cool?!? You know what I bet was cool? When you were over on the sideline hugging celebrities with a minute left to play and a deficit to dig our team out of. I bet that was cool. Get your head in the game, bro. We lost the game. You know what else would have been cool? If you guys actually played some defense instead of letting a washed up hall of famer score at will.

The only comments I actually didn't mind after last night's loss were from Joe Ingles ("I’ll probably be in some of his highlights for the rest of my life. I’ll show them to my kids someday." - because I know he's joking) and Rudy Gobert (who tweeted out three blushing-face emojis just after the game ended. Where is the fire, guys? Shouldn't they be devastated after blowing it like that?

Maybe I'm missing something (admittedly, and as previously mentioned, I wasn't going out of my way to pay attention to anything that happened after that final buzzer), but why the BEEEEEEEP were we just happy to be there? Where the BEEEEEEEEEEP is the sense of pride? Why the BEEEEEEEEP didn't we say, "All right, guys, this is Kobe's final game and the entire world is watching us. Let's send that son-of-a-gun home with a big, fat L tonight. Let's get out there and get it done..."??

Call me crazy, but I thought that last night's loss to Kobe and the Lakers was extremely, extremely disappointing - an outright embarrassment for the organization.

Diary of a mad white man

I consider myself a very patient, faithful and forgiving Utah Jazz fan, sometimes even at the expense of reality. I think we've got a decent team. I think we've got a bunch of nice guys. I know we're never going to make it back to the Finals, but every year I fool myself into believing that maybe this year something special will happen. This year was no exception; nothing special happened (unless you consider losing four of our last five and handing the Rockets a playoff berth "special"). But this year, unlike other years, I'm straight-up mad at the Jazz. We choked hardcore. There's no other way to look at it, if you're like me.

However, as expected, many of Utah's crummy "talking heads" on the radio were filled with lines that began with "I get why some Jazz fans are upset, but..." BUT WHAT?!? BUT NOTHING! If you're not upset, are you really a Jazz fan? Who in their right mind would watch last night's game and say, "It's fine. We're a really young, inexperienced team, but there's always next year." I've finally come to my senses, and guess what? WE'VE BEEN A REALLY YOUNG, INEXPERIENCED TEAM FOR LIKE THREE YEARS NOW! When are things going to change? When are things going to get better?

"Jazz fans shouldn't be angry; last night's game was meaningless." WELL, IF IT DIDN'T MATTER, WHY DID WE PLAY IT? WHY DID WE EVEN BOTHER SHOWING UP?? Sure, it wouldn't have gotten us into the playoffs (that's our own fault), but it was, nationally, one of the biggest games of the last decade or so. Kobe was a legend for this generation and everybody had their calendars marked for that game. I mean, everybody except for the Jazz and their naive fans, I guess.

I'm mad at the Jazz because we shouldn't have been in that situation to begin with. I think if we were still in playoff contention or even headed to the playoffs, we wouldn't have laid down for Kobe like we did. All we needed to have done prior to last night's game was to have won one extra game. Check it out: this year, the Jazz had some bad losses that could have (and should have) been prevented. After a quick glance at the roster, we had two losses to Detroit, Orlando and Sacramento. We had road losses to Minnesota and the Knicks. And we had home loses to Brooklyn, New Orleans and (the killer) a devastating loss to the Clippers' "JV squad" when it counted the most. If we had won just one or two of those games, we wouldn't have been in this situation in the first place. But yet again, the Jazz found a way to put them in a position where our ability to get into the postseason depended on another team losing, and it didn't pan out.

Maybe the nerds were right

I got a lot of crap about being a sports fan from people while working at Salt Lake Comic Con. I found this particularly ironic, since comic conventions are events that pride themselves on being a safe place where people can go and be themselves, no matter what they're interested in. (So let me get this straight - it's ok for a grown man to collect "My Little Pony" dolls, but not to cheer for a sports team? Really?) Anyway, that was weird, but, as I was thinking about sports, in general, last night, I came to consider that maybe they were right. Obviously, I'm not going to give up on sports entirely, but I can't remember a time when I was so upset about a movie or TV show that I felt physically ill. This is not to say that watching Kobe go out on top made me start vomiting or anything, but I, physically and mentally, did not feel like myself after that game. I've seen some terrible and stupid movies in my day and I've struggled to keep up with shows that I knew wouldn't last, but being a sports fan is a lifelong commitment to disappointment, and that's something that "America's Got Talent" viewers can't even say. That's just three months of watching that ultimately ends in disappointment and then it's over - and, heck, you can easily switch rooting allegiances along the way without being branded a "bandwagon fan" for doing so.

Back to sports. Pick any given team in any given league. If there are 30 teams in a league, which is about normal, statistically, your team has a 97% chance of not winning the championship. In my lifetime, my actual team that I had legitimately been cheering for long-term has won one championship. That was the New Orleans Saints in 2011, the culmination of 10 years of misery as an out-of-state fan. The Jazz made it to the Finals twice and lost both times. If they could just win one championship - one championship - then I could die a happy man. But that will never happen and my greatest efforts in cheering them on to victory will continue to be forever futile.

I'm frustrated, most of all, that I have been giving the Jazz way more than they have been giving to me, year in and year out. I've invested hours and hours, evenings and evenings, money, gas mileage and, occasionally, my social life for this team, and what do I get back? Nothing, really. Even if the Jazz had made the playoffs this year, we'd likely have been swept by the Warriors, so where would the fun be in that?

It's taken me years to get to this point, but now I can honestly say it - this team isn't working. I like our guys. I like them all. Even Gordon, who the fans place much too heavy a burden upon. Even Trey Burke, who the organization apparently detests for some unknowable reason. I like Jingling Joe and Trevor Booker and I like Jeff Withey, too, even though I hated him at Kansas. I think the team has great chemistry, which prevents us from becoming the Sacramento Kings. But, clearly, this team is not going to win a championship the way we are built right now. Things might have been different if we could have stayed healthy all year long, but even then, we couldn't have taken out any of the top three seeds in the West. I think we could be Eastern Conference champions, for sure, but that's a geographical impossibility.

Gosh dang it, I just want to win. For once in my life, I want to watch the Jazz raise a banner that says "WORLD CHAMPIONS" on it. And I'm mad because I care. I love this team. Too much, in fact. And I'm tired of them playing down to their competition and breaking my heart like they did last night for Kobe Bryant's final game.

Tell me I'm not alone.

The Bitter Pill: My worst sports memories

It's on days like today when I wonder to myself why on earth I like sports. Although watching your team win the big game can be one of the most exhilarating experiences imaginable, let's be honest - that only happens once in a blue moon. In fact, as I thought quietly on my drive home from work today, I determined that devoting a lifetime to watching sports has brought me sadness and disappointment probably 95% of the time. I can think of one time - just one - in my entire life that "my team" has ever won a championship. Surely, the team that I have wanted to win has won occasionally, but only one time in my entire life has my actual team ever claimed the right to be called "number one." Those ain't good odds.

Imagine my elation when my Texas Rangers - a team that I have heavily invested in over the past several years - went from being the worst team in the Major Leagues to winning the pennant in the American League West a few weeks ago. Oh man, that was awesome! They made the playoffs and went nuts against the Toronto Blue Jays, who many picked to be the odds-on favorite to win this year's World Series, in the first two games of the five-game American League Divisional Series. We were up two games to zero, just one win away from a spot in baseball's Final Four - the American League Championship Series. Could it truly be happening? Were the Rangers the Team of Destiny? The series was shifting back to Arlington and there was no way they'd let the Blue Jays win three straight games.

Right??

The Rangers vs the Blue Jays (2015)

The Rangers came out flat in Game Three, losing 5-1 in Texas. I was really excited to watch this game because it was the one game in this entire series that I could actually watch live; the others were all televised at 2 in the afternoon, while I was at work. I was ready to break out my broom for the sweep last Sunday night, but it was not meant to be. I figured it was a rough outing and we'd get 'em Monday. But the Blue Jays came out swinging again and won Game Four, 8-4, shifting the series back to Toronto for a win-or-go-home Game Five today. Again, the game started in the afternoon and I was forced the follow the game via a combination of updates from MLB At Bat, Twitter, ESPN.com and my family members, who were watching the game at home.

The Rangers jumped out to an early lead, which was pretty dang exciting for me. I caught a little bit of the game early on during my break at work and all was well. Then the seventh inning happened and my phone started blowing up. Apparently, I heard, the Rangers had scored on a fluke play where Toronto's catcher, Russell Martin attempted to throw the ball back to the pitcher, but accidentally hit the bat of Texas' Shin-Soo Choo. The ball was declared live and the Rangers plated a run, extending their lead and prompting the Toronto fans to start throwing garbage onto the field. Classy!! But the good times wouldn't last long. Soon thereafter, I'm told, the Rangers had three fielding errors in the bottom of the seventh and Jose Bautista blasted a three-run shot, putting the Blue Jays up for good. The Rangers etched their names in sports history as one of the only teams to ever choke away a 2-0 lead in a five-game series. Why? Why did this happen to me??

On a side note, after Bautista's monster home run, he flipped his bat in a manner that, in any other sport, would have penalized his team with a technical foul or a flag for excessive celebration/taunting, and that straight up ticks me off. I never had a strong opinion of the self-proclaimed "Joey Bats," but watching him in the ALDS has sure painted him in a negative light. The dude seems like a first-class whiner and a major jerk. Watch the video. See for yourself.

#THIS. Joey Bat Flip. https://t.co/CO59JyFCsa

— MLB (@MLB) October 15, 2015

Ugh. So the Rangers are out and I hate sports... For now.

Today's disheartening outcome got me thinking about all the other horrible sports memories I've ever had. I don't know why so many bad things happen to the teams I love, but it seems to be my lot in life. If ever you think that your life is no good, just take a look at all the times I've had my heart ripped out and stomped on. Maybe it will help you realize that your life could always be worse.

The Rangers vs the A's (2012-2013)

Apparently I became a Rangers fan a couple years too late. After back-to-back World Series losses in 2010 and 2011, I visited my uncle in Frisco, Texas, in 2012 and fell in love with the team. They would go on to have successful seasons that ultimately fell apart in September, thanks in large part to the hated Oakland Athletics. The A's practically single-handedly derailed the Rangers hopes for a long postseason run in both 2012 and 2013, including an unfortunate series of events that led to the Rangers needing a tie-breaker ("Game 163") against the Tampa Bay Rays in 2013. The Rangers and Rays would face off in a play-in game that year, which meant that the winner would make it into the Wild Card game for the American League and the loser would get the walk of shame on national TV.

To make a long story short, the Rays beat the Rangers soundly and I cried myself to sleep. Not really, but I could have.

The Cubs vs everybody (especially Steve Bartman)

Back in the days of my youth, I was a big-time Chicago Cubs fan. One of my favorite baseball players of all time was the now-infamous steroid user, bat corker and skin bleacher, Sammy Sosa. I LOVED Sammy as a kid. That dude was awesome. I remember growing up watching Sammy, Mark Grace, Ryne Sandberg and the gang on WGN as Harry Carey sang "Take Me Out to the Ballgame"! "Who's Harry Carey?", ask the bandwagon Cubs fans of today. Psssh! Who's Harry Carey?? Just one of the most legendary broadcasters of our time! Oh yeah, the Cubs and I go way back!

As I grew older and my intellect was sharpened, I came to the reluctant acceptance of the fact that the Cubs just plain sucked. They were never good. They never won. And watching losers, lovable though they were, gets old after about 15 years. So I shifted my attention away from the Cubs and actually gave up on baseball for a few years around the time that I went on my LDS mission.

One of the most infamous moments of all, of course, was the epic failure produced by poor Steve Bartman. The Cubs were on the fast track to the World Series in 2003, up three games to two against the Florida Marlins the a best-of-seven National League Championship Series. It was game six and the Cubbies were winning, 3-0. Then this happened and all heck broke loose...


Chicago would go on to lose the series and fade from national relevance for the next 12 years. The Cubs are back in the NLCS, which will start up in a few days and I'll be backing my dear Cubbies, now that my Rangers are eliminated (if for nothing more than the potential fulfillment of Back to the Future II's 30-year-old prediction).

Also, not to brag or anything, I can truly say that I was there, watching live on MLB At Bat, for Kris Bryant's first three strikeouts, so there's that, too.

The Saints vs the Seahawks (2010)

Are you ready for some football? My New Orleans Saints certainly weren't back in 2010, when they went up against the Seattle Seahawks in the 2010 NFC Wild Card game. Oh yeah, let me remind you that these were no ordinary Seattle Seahawks - these Seattle Seahawks made the playoffs with a sub-.500 record. They lost more games than they won that year. This happened in real life. This should have been a cakewalk for the Saints, who had come a long way since their lowly days of Aaron Brooks and Ricky Williams... back when I stupidly decided to cheer for a team with a long history of being incredibly terrible. Hey - these Saints had Drew Brees, one of the best quarterbacks in the entire league, and a high-powered offense that could put up 40 points almost at will.

I never had a good feeling about this game. I felt like there was a very good possibility that the Saints would fall flat on their faces. And my mom, a lifelong Seattle fan, was watching in the room with me. It was at this time that we were introduced to something now referred to as the "Beast Quake" - a gargantuan run by Marshawn Lynch of such monumental proportions that I honestly still have flashbacks about it. Behold:


I will give the Saints props, though. They brought me my one and only championship in 2009. That was a good night. Sadly, it only lasted about four hours.

The Utes vs TCU

Why stop with professional football? Why not talk about the football game that I was most amped-up for in my entire life? I was a student at the University of Utah in 2010, when my Number Five Utes squared off against the dreaded TCU Horned Frogs, who rolled into Salt Lake City ranked Number Three. College GameDay was in town. My brother Austin and I woke up at 4:00 in the blessed A.M. to attend the live national broadcast. It felt like the freaking Super Bowl.

Until kickoff.

It didn't take TCU long to drive right down the field and score. "It can't be that bad," I thought. Then the Utes got the ball and punted. Then TCU strolled right back to the end zone and went up 14 points. It was honestly all downhill from there. The Utes got steamrolled and lost in embarrassing fashion, 47-7, for the world to see.


To this day, that was the worst football game I have ever seen. And I was there for it. The best part of the game was, sadly, my friend making a relatively obscene gesture toward the TCU fans after the Utes scored their one and only touchdown during "garbage time" in the fourth quarter. I hate TCU. Stupid Horned Frogs.

The Jazz vs Michael Jordan (1996-1998)

Michael Jordan ruined my life. Not kidding. People think I'm joking or being a baby about it, but I'm serious. Michael Jordan ruined my life.

I love the Utah Jazz more than any team in all of sports in all of the world and they made it to the NBA Finals TWO TIMES. IN A ROW. And we lost both times to stupid Michael Jordan and the stupid Chicago Bulls! I could go on and on and on about my hatred for His Airness, Phil Jackson, Dennis Rodman and the bunch, but I won't. That's another very long blog for another day.

Just watch this video and tell me that Michael Jordan didn't push off. I dare you to watch this video and tell me that Michael Jordan didn't push off.


"Michael Jordan pushed off." I'll put that on my headstone when I die.
Sports are a silly thing to get this upset about, but WE SHOULD HAVE WON THE NBA CHAMPIONSHIP!!! We should have won! The Jazz will never make it back to the NBA Finals. I have come to this conclusion on my own accord and I accept it. It sucks, but I know it's true. We will never make it back to that stage. Not in today's NBA. Our glory days are over - and Michael Jordan pushed off.

Honorable mention: Karl Malone and DDP vs Hulk Hogan and Dennis Rodman (1996)

Because I don't want to end this blog on that sour note of hatred and disgust, I'll lighten the mood a tiny bit by mentioning the last time that I ever prayed for the outcome of a sporting event...
That's right. I prayed that Karl Malone would beat Dennis Rodman at WCW's Bash at the Beach Pay-Per-View and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Needless to say, Karl and DDP lost and I never prayed about sports ever again. It doesn't work, people. Take it from one who knows.

I take a minimal amount of solace in the fact that the Mailman got to hit the ref, Charles Robinson, with the Diamond Cutter after the match was over. Served him right. He deserved it.

What are your worst sports memories? Misery loves company in the comments section below.