I’m talking about making an actual decision. A choice. Most of us are born into our fandom. Some of us become new fans of a college once we attend that school. And some of us just pick a team for some other reason and stick with ‘em. Those people are weird, aren’t they?

Well, when I was in elementary school, we all did that. Sure, I really liked the Pirates and Penguins best, but that was such a boring answer. (I honestly didn’t love the Steelers until middle school … I guess I held off for as long as I could before it hit me like a tidal wave.) And so, I had a bunch of “favorite” teams. The Detroit Tigers. The Philadelphia Eagles. The New York Yankees. The Montreal Canadiens. Looking back, it seemed to change every year. None of it ever stuck, because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t honest. I was trying to be different, just like everyone else. It was kid stuff.

But I knew a few kids who picked other teams and stuck with them into adulthood. For instance, a friend of mine was a huge Barry Sanders fan. He’s a Detroit Lions fan to this day. You can question his decision making, but you can’t question his commitment. It would be easier for him to just start supporting his hometown Steelers. It would be more reasonable and rewarding. But he went too far into the Lions den, and that’s where he stayed.

I started following the Premier League last year, and I really liked it. I’ve always loved soccer — played it for years and years, love to watch it — so why not follow what many consider to be the best soccer (yes, OK, football) league in the world? The world is shrinking, after all. It’s not hard to follow leagues overseas. And the Premier League didn’t present any language barriers. It was an easy call.

It was a fun starting point, but I didn’t really have a team. And all the Premier League fans I knew told me it was much more fun when you had a team. I had to pick a team. But how? How could it be natural? I have absolutely no ties to the UK through blood, and I’ve never flown across the ocean, either. Could I just pick a team off the board, as if I was selecting an ice cream flavor? I’m a true blue grown man fan, after all. A sports monogamist. This would have to be an ice cream flavor I could eat for the rest of my life.

I don’t believe in “second favorite” teams in the American pro leagues. People who pick an AL team and an NL team are bad enough. People who pick a second team in other leagues are even worse.

However, it’s different in college sports, where two teams might not play each other for decades. I suspect it’s the same for European soccer. Why couldn’t you support a Premier League team, and, say, a League Two team? Do European fans do this? If “Fever Pitch” is any indication, some certainly do. Anyway, I need answers.

Without going through all 20 teams, I only knew for sure I didn’t want to support Manchester United (too obvious and easy), Manchester City (the top bandwagon team of the moment; the Brits would call new fans of MCFC “glory hunters”), Arsenal (seem like they have enough fans already) and Chelsea (again, glory hunting). These were arguably the four best teams going into the season.

Plenty of other teams didn’t stand out to me for whatever reason. And that was that. Nothing against any of those squads, but I wasn’t going to force it. So who did stand out? Four clubs:

1. Liverpool

Love the history of the team, “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” etc. But considering Liverpool is often referred to as one of the most storied clubs in England — if not THE most storied club, it seemed a bit too easy. Also, I really didn’t want to have to end up hating Everton.

2. Fulham

Based in London, which is a plus if I ever want to visit for a game. Cool kits. Very long history (founded 1879). American star Clint Dempsey. But you shouldn’t pick a team for one current player. Especially in club soccer, as he might be gone before the season ends. Fulham was a solid pick, but it just didn’t stick for me.

3. Everton

Everton seemed like the one. Love the kits, the history, the second-sibling rivalry with Liverpool, American Tim Howard (and, at times, Landon Donovan), the nicknames (The Toffees!) and other little things. But even though I gravitated toward Everton the previous year, I couldn’t quite commit. I didn’t know why. Some things can’t be explained.

4. Queens Park Rangers

They were coming back into the Premier League after winning the n-Power Championship (such a bizarre and confusing name for a B-league, by the way), so we’d be coming in together. QPR had a new, exciting owner who was willing to spend. I loved the uniforms, the London location, the charming bandbox home pitch at Loftus Road (with a capacity of 18,439, easily the smallest in the league) and of course, the amazing name. Queens Park Rangers! QPR! How cool is that? Of course, being a promoted team, the downside was a higher probability of relegation next season.

Another team that really stood out to me was Sheffield Wednesday. Love ‘em. Great nickname (The Owls), great history, kits (what’s with me and blue-and-white all of a sudden?), mascots that do this and of course, there’s a DAY OF THE WEEK in the club name. Which is awesome. The Wednesday!

Alas, Sheffield Wednesday started the season in League One, two steps below the Premier League. It’d take at least two years for the team to reach the top level, and I didn’t have the patience. At least I could have a League One team, as well, I thought, for whatever that was worth. (The Wednesday finished second in League One this season, guaranteeing promotion to the Championship. At this point, there’s a chance they’ll be squaring off against my eventual selected team next season. This was unforeseen.)

The season kicked off, and I was still a nomad, unable to commit to QPR or Everton. The two teams met in the second weekend of the season. It ended up being the second game for QPR and the first for Everton. QPR had just been smoked 4-0 to Bolton the week prior. Not making a good case for themselves.

Lucky for me, I got to watch the QPR-Everton tilt on TV. I could let the game decide for me. Since it was being played at Everton, it would have been easy to cheer for the home side, but I found myself rooting for QPR. I couldn’t explain why. Perhaps my heart was guiding me.

It was tied 0-0 in the first half. QPR got a bit of possession near the Everton box. And then this happened. I was all in.

That view from the QPR fans’ section shows Tommy Smith taking a pass and curling a low shot past Tim Howard for the Rs first Premier League goal — and win — since April 1996, when I was 13. (It had been that long? Maybe I didn’t think this through. Ah, but the heart wants what it wants.)

QPR won 1-0 and that was it. I had my club. Queens Park Rangers. The Rs. The Super Hoops. The ride had begun.

———————————————————

What I don’t like about the Premier League:

It’s top heavy. Think of Major League Baseball to the 10th power. A few teams spend the most money, and they’re generally the best teams. Since there’s no playoff system for the league title, the small sample size series that can change the course of the title never happens. Only two teams — Man U and Man City — really had a shot at winning the Premier League this year. This happens all over European soccer to some extent. Those fans might not see it as a problem, but as an American sports fan, the complete disregard for competitive balance is an issue.

No instant replay. Another widespread soccer problem. QPR’s Clint Hill scored a clear goal against Bolton, but the refs didn’t see it that way. A one-minute review could have overturned the call on the field. QPR lost 2-1. I know you don’t want to interrupt the flow of a sport like soccer, but considering you’re already adding minutes of stoppage time … heck, just considering the existence of stoppage time, another minute isn’t a big deal.

Ease of watching games. Yeah, it’s much easier now than it even was a couple years ago, thanks to expanded coverage from ESPN and FOX, and the internet and so on, but I’ve got DirecTV and the Fox Soccer Plus channel is $15 a month. That’s egregious for someone who already pays for NFL Sunday Ticket and NHL Center Ice. Other cable packages make it much easier and cheaper than DirecTV, but that doesn’t help me right now. More of a DirecTV problem than a Premier League problem, really.

What I like about the Premier League:

The announcers. Honest and hilarious, and of course, they’ve got British accents. Why can’t NFL announcers be so brutally honest? Why do they have to constantly “sell the game?” YOU’RE THE NFL. YOU’VE ALREADY GOT US HOOKED. DON’T DUMB IT DOWN. STOP MAKING EXCUSES FOR MILLIONAIRES. BE HONEST. (For instance, I once heard Jon Gruden call John Beck “the best-kept secret in the NFL.” He should be held accountable for such nonsense.)  Premier League announcers are, by and large, the best.

Game times and scheduling. Almost always one game a week, sometimes two, played during mornings and afternoons in my time zone, only taking two hours from start to finish. Easy to follow and every game an important one.

Relegation and promotion. A race to escape the bottom can be just as exciting (if not more exciting) than the race to the top. The punishment for the worst teams, rewards for the best, teams switching leagues … everything about it is fantastic.

That being said, many American fans of European soccer won’t shut up about bringing relegation to American sports. It makes otherwise intelligent people sound silly. Please stop it. It could never happen and it will never happen. It’s not built into the sports. The whole system would need a total overhaul. You’d have to create lower leagues to even allow for this. MLB minor league teams are farm teams for MLB teams. And good luck convincing owners.

More importantly, it’s not built into the sporting culture. Could you imagine asking a Royals or Pirates or Astros fan to spend a season watching their teams play Lehigh Valley, Toledo and Pawtucket? No one would go. And why should they? Let some things stay foreign, and enjoy them as they are.

Cups and European Leagues. The FA Cup and Carling Cup allow teams struggling during their seasons a chance to win some hardware, while creating upset possibilities. Then you’ve got the best teams playing great teams from all over Europe in the Champions’ League and, to a lesser extent, the Europa League. The Premier League title isn’t the only one up for grabs.

Distance. Following afar makes it easier to avoid the off-field stuff. The most popular league here, the NFL, is inescapable. I love the NFL, but over time, I’ve gotten tired of all the off-field stuff and manufactured controversy. I know that stuff exists in the Premier League (have you seen English tabloids?), but because I live in the US, I don’t really see any of it. Fine by me. Just give me the games.

No league playoffs. Not saying I like it better, though it is probably more fair. It’s just different. I wouldn’t want it in every league I follow.

Teams don’t move. Your team is your team. Forever.

———————————————————

QPR was decent for the first third of the season, hanging around mid-table. And then the wheels fell off. They plummeted to the relegation zone. They couldn’t score. They couldn’t defend. They fired their manager, Neil Warnock. And a lot of the flashy “name” players they brought in weren’t pulling their weight, most notably Joey Barton and Shaun Wright-Phillips. They brought in more guys. Taye Taiwo on loan. Federico Macheda. Samba Diakite. Djibril Cisse. Bobby Zamora. Results have been mixed.

(Taiwo’s been solid from what I’ve seen, Diakite OK. Cisse very good when he can stay on the field. The less said about Zamora and Macheda, the better.)

After losing a March 10 game to Bolton Wanderers (the Clint Hill game), I tweeted: “Might be the last QPR game I watch for a very long time. Not quite giving up (though I probably should). Just stating facts. So poor.”

It was bad. They just played so poorly for such a long stretch of time. And they played stupid. So many dumb red cards, game after game. Why was I getting up on weekends to watch an underachieving, undisciplined team play thousands of miles away?

I expressed these frustrations to my youngest brother, who said, “You’re not a true fan.” This coming from a 15-year-old who picked Everton as his team, and strangely, League One side Rochdale, who will be in League Two next year. Why Rochdale? Who knows?

After further examination, QPR was exactly the kind of team I’ve never liked. A bunch of mercenaries, losing their cool, not playing as a team, while fellow promoted teams Norwich City and Swansea City (both teams finished behind QPR in last year’s Championship season) were surprises. Those teams played together. They had heart. They weren’t going back down to the Championship. I didn’t see the same from QPR.

And some of QPR’s top performers during the season were often holdovers from the previous season: Guys like Heidar Helguson and Jamie Mackie, who some thought weren’t Premier League quality.

With QPR in very real danger of dropping back to the Premier League, I had some questions. Did I have to stay a fan? I’m not from London. My only connection to this team started this season. I could chalk it up to a false start and pick a new team next season. What was the point of taking on a lost cause? I’ve already got the Pittsburgh Pirates.

But the fact that I was upset showed that I cared. QPR had me. I couldn’t quit them. My tweet was just another heat-of-the-moment outburst from a fan. That’s what I was. A fan. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. I made myself care about the team, so I really did care about the team. Maybe there’s not much difference.

After that brutal loss, QPR picked themselves up and played … pretty decent, actually. Not great, but they were far from the worst team in the league. Since that Bolton loss, QPR has done this: W, L, W, L, W, L, W, L, W. And some of those wins have come against big boys, like Liverpool, Tottenham Hotspur and Arsenal. I guess the Hoops have some heart, after all.

Now we’re at the end. If the team’s form follows its current path, they’ll lose tomorrow at Manchester City. If Man City wins, they’ll win the league. QPR has virtually no chance.

Whether or not QPR stays up next year will likely depend on tomorrow’s Bolton-Stoke City game. If Bolton loses or draws, QPR stays up. But if the Wanderers beat Stoke, it’d require that miracle win over Man City to avoid relegation. Dicey stuff.

If QPR does go down, to face off against Sheffield Wednesday in the Championship, what will I do? Pick a new Premier League team for next year? A second team, if you will, that I could follow in the meantime? I’m not going to stop following the Premier League, so maybe I’ll pay close attention to both that and the Championship next year. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I really don’t. I can’t imagine how nervous the longtime QPR fans must be.

I would really rather they didn’t go down, because I don’t want to figure out what comes next. Come on, you Rs. Come on.

Pittsburgh Penguins vs. Washington Capitals, Mellon Arena, Pittsburgh – 11/22/2005

The very first Crosby vs. Ovechkin game. There was a lot of hype, of course. It was obvious that greatness was already in reach for both of these guys. But even more importantly at the time, everybody WANTED them to be great. You couldn’t get much more anticipation for a regular season hockey game, and justifiably so.

The Pens have a program called Student Rush, where your student ID gets you a decent ticket at a reasonable price. ($25 now, but I believe it was $20 at the time.) The Penguins don’t need to do this — especially now, when every game sells out — but they keep doing it anyway, even though fewer tickets are available these days. Why? Well, the Pens are a class organization. But that’s not all. Student Rush is a great idea, because it continues to build a fan base. Young folks, some who have never been to a hockey game before, get to see sold-out games for cheap. You may lose a few bucks on ticket prices, but you might be adding new fans for life. And it adds to the game atmosphere. Because, hey, you know those college kids. Not afraid to get loud and rowdy. It’s really a great idea, and I don’t understand why more teams don’t have similar programs.

Student Rush. That was the path we took that night. It was just me and my friend, Allan. The line was long and the air was cold, but the tickets were cheap. Crosby and Ovechkin waited inside. And the rest of the Pens and Caps, of course. Those Pens included some guy named Lemieux. And…Ziggy Palffy! Sergei Gonchar! John LeClair, who could hardly skate at that point! Steve Poapst! LASSE PIRJETA!

So, we waited in line. And waited. And it was colder than we thought. I was just wearing my Lemieux jersey over a t-shirt, and after a while, that just wasn’t cutting it. God, it was freezing. We were out there for at least an hour, probably longer.

Finally, the line started moving. It was a very long line, and they could have run out of tickets at any second, but we had faith, and hey, we had waited too long to leave. We got closer. And closer. The gate was in sight. That’s when it happened.

It wasn’t quite what you’d see in a cartoon, with the two of us bounding happily to the ticket window, only to see a metal SOLD OUT gate slammed in our faces. But it wasn’t far off. We were only a few people away from the final tickets to be sold that night.

So, that was it. The game had already started. But we weren’t about to get this far and not get in. A quick decision was made: Find a scalper and pay up. We found a guy with $75 tickets. Pretty good seats. The game had already started by now, so it wasn’t tough to talk him down. I think we got to $60 or so (could have been less), and we were finally in. Ah, the (relative) waiting warmth of Mellon Arena.

By the time we got to our seats, it was 4-0 Pens, and getting near the end of the first period. I knew we’d be lucky to see another Pens goal. (We saw one, from Palffy, with Crosby picking up an assist.)

The Caps came back, but ended up falling short, 5-4. I don’t remember much about Crosby from the game, other than getting ready to catch my breath every time he touched the puck. The Kid was great. We all knew it.

Ovechkin, however, was the most noticeable player on the ice. I didn’t say he was the best player on the ice, though. He was out of control. Whereas Crosby seemed to take the game in stride, you could tell Ovechkin knew the hockey world was watching that night, so he cranked it up. He was trying to stick handle through three guys at once, throwing his body around, taking wild shots. I specifically remember a whiff and a wipe out at some point from Ovechkin, much to the delight of the crowd. He was TOO amped up.

It didn’t help that the crowd was already booing him every time he touched the puck. The booing got louder as the game went on, though, and that had everything to do with Ovechkin playing like he was on speed. He single-handedly wanted to bring his team back that night. He wanted to be the star of the show. He and the crowd pushed each other all game long.

In the end, it wasn’t enough. I wonder if that night showed me something about Ovechkin that I didn’t realize at the time. His blessing is his curse. Yes, he’ll usually be the most noticeable player on the ice, and he can always wow you with his ability. But maybe, he still doesn’t know when to let off the gas a little bit, when to make the smarter play, when to make the right pass, or how to let his talent work in more subtle ways.

When you show a hockey fan Ovechkin and Crosby for the first time, all team biases aside, chances are, that fan will gravitate toward Ovechkin. (Casual fans or non-hockey fans will likely choose Ovechkin by a wide margin, I’m assuming. At least, Ovechkin circa 2005-2009. But that’s a point for another time.) But during the course of a few more games, or a season — maybe during the course of a career — that’s when you really notice the genius of Crosby.

Now, it’s not like Crosby’s a boring player. Nothing could be further from the truth. He’s the best. He’s got oodles of sick plays in his oeuvre, but his skating style is strong and smooth. Ovechkin is wild and choppy, like all of his energy is going to burst right through his skin.

Ovechkin took the third star that night, with one assist. With one goal and one assist, Crosby got the first star. (Though Ziggy Palffy probably should have gotten the first star that night, with two goals and one assist.)

I never got a program when I walked through the door, but as I was leaving the arena that night, I saw one on the floor. The cover was ripped and partially stained.

“Are you sure you want to keep that?” Allan asked me.

I looked at it again. “Yeah.”

I still have that program.

- Dinosaur Jr., “Feel The Pain”

I didn’t write much about the Steelers this season, though there was plenty to write about. And I certainly haven’t written anything since the Super Bowl.

Your favorite team losing the Super Bowl … it’s a strange feeling. It took me a few days to get over it. Different moments played back in my mind. The penalties. The turnovers. So many what-ifs.

But what-ifs are just that. Sports fans grow old with their what-ifs. They hold onto them for their entire lives.

“What if he caught that ball?”

“What if he makes that tackle?”

This line of thinking quickly gets you to the “if only” stage. “If only he would have caught that ball … we probably would have won.”

But in the end, the what-ifs and if-onlys only matter in our minds. The record books will read Green Bay 31 – Pittsburgh 25. And yes, I winced a bit when I wrote that.

That being said, right after the Super Bowl … I was OK. I was almost too OK for someone whose team just lost the Super Bowl. The Steelers had a great year. They were beaten by a better team, or at least, a team that was better on that final day. I don’t subscribe to the view of many NFL fans — that fans of 31 teams have virtually no reason to feel good about the season. After everything the Steelers went through this past season … if you tell me they have one last drive to win the Super Bowl, in the last two minutes? Again? Somehow? With that O-line? I take it every time.

Yeah, I was OK. But not great. Far from it. I didn’t get much sleep that night. I kept thinking about all the mistakes. The missed 52-yard field goal. The interception for a TD. Keyaron Fox’s asinine penalty. And most of all, Mendenhall’s fumble. The momentum had turned at that point. The Steeler running game was starting to look unstoppable. The Steeler fans in the crowd started to believe. You could hear the “Here We Go” chant fill Jerry Jones Stadium. And then…

So why wasn’t I depressed for weeks, or longer? Two main factors, as best as I can tell, and both are fairly obvious.

***

1. A recent championship.

Bill Simmons writes about a five-year “grace period” after your team wins a championship. No complaining. I don’t know if there’s an actual time limit for it, but that period does exist. It’s probably different for everyone. As a fan, you know the players should want to win it all every year. But you also know that’s not a realistic expectation. And it’s a bit greedy. (Yankee fans cannot comprehend these last two sentences.)

The Steelers have won two Super Bowls in the past six years. Throw in all the Roethlisberger stuff, and no one other than Steeler fans wanted to see them win a third in that time frame. (And you know what? That was fine with us.)

Same reason why the Penguins’ exit to Montreal wasn’t nearly as painful as it should have been. If we did feel like crying, we still had the Stanley Cup waiting to collect our tears.

I don’t, however, think this extends to other sports teams in the same city. Non-Pittsburgh fans tell me the Pirates are our penance for all the winning. I disagree. Because as things stand now, the Pirates have no chance to compete for a championship. Every baseball season is a guaranteed L. The Steelers and the Pens could both have poor years, and the Pirates would not be lifting our spirits. Call me greedy, but I just want the Bucs to have a fighting chance.

And what about the people who are just Pirate fans, or the folks who are Pirate fans above all? Whither fellow one-time Beaver County Times sports correspondent, Doc Emrick?

2. Age.

Again, obvious. As you get older, it’s not necessarily that you care about sports less … it’s that you start to care (and worry) about other things more. Family. Career. House. Money. Et cetera. My nonna always said she never understood why people cared so much about their favorite teams. After all, “They don’t care about you.”

Maybe this is an Italian thing. Chazz Palminteri’s character said the same thing about Mickey Mantle in “A Bronx Tale.”

All right, here’s one more…

3. Expectations.

It’s human nature. If you don’t expect much, you’re happier with each extra game. If you expect the world, you can end up fearing defeat more than you’re anticipating victory.

Even though Pats fans were spoiled from three recent championships, those titles couldn’t have been much consolation after the Super Bowl loss against the Giants.

***

I’m one of those people who believes that sports fans connect with each other — and their teams — more through losing than through winning. Anyone can support a winner. The pain binds us. And after all, losing allows you to play the what-if game. Conversations about winning teams often turn into:

“That was awesome, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, they were a great team.”

“Yeah.”

It’s easy for me to say, of course, because my teams have won titles. I live in Buffalo, and trust me, these folks don’t want to hear that. And why would they? Buffalo fans don’t want to hear about my pain. They’ve got more than enough of their own. They treat me like I’m some young, bright-eyed man who fancies himself a real blues singer. And I just walked into the oldest, smokiest, bluesiest club in town.

“The blues? What do you know about the blues?”

But I will press on. The following are my most painful moments as a sports fan — one for each Pittsburgh sports team. These are dictated by my own personal feelings. Yours might differ drastically. Nevertheless, Pittsburgh fans … prepare for heartbreak.

Steelers

The Steeler list would be the longest. Not because I care about the Steelers so much more than the other teams — it’s just the nature of football. There are relatively few games, so the moments always feel that much more important. This is especially true with the Steelers, who, despite their success, often seem incapable of winning (or losing) a game handily.

Non-playoff moments are immediately out. Neil O’Donnell’s second interception in Super Bowl XXX would be a great candidate, but I was 13 years old at the time, and my memories of that game are a bit hazy. Thankfully.

That leaves us with a number of brutal playoff losses, most of them home AFC championship games. The one that hit me hardest — and I think this will be a popular choice among Steeler fans — is the 2001-02 loss to the Patriots.

Unlike the 2004-05 loss to the Pats, I felt like the Steelers were the superior team in ’01-’02. The Pats took an early lead on a Troy Brown punt return TD. Drew Bledsoe then took over for an injured Tom Brady, and promptly threw a TD. It was 14-3 at the half and we had to listen to Sheryl Crow sing “Soak Up The Sun” live. Nobody was in the mood for that.

Especially me. I was watching the game with my girlfriend at the time, who was from Massachusetts. That wasn’t the issue, though. She claimed to be a Patriots fan, but she wasn’t really. As I watched the first half in horror, it became clear that she’d rather see the Steelers win, because it was causing me such grief. Most people — myself included — thought that it would be the Steelers and the Rams.

Still in a state of disbelief, I slowly began to pull out of it. The Steelers were setting up for a gimme field goal, which would at least cut the deficit to one score.

The moment:

Kris Brown’s field goal attempt was blocked. It was recovered by Troy Brown — who else? — who lateraled to some guy (Antwan Harris), who ran it back for a touchdown. 21-3. If I was still in the state of denial as the ball was snapped, I went through the rest of the grief stages in the time it took to score that touchdown. The internet has spared me … I can’t find a video clip.

It was over. On a blocked field goal return, of all things. The second spectacular special teams failure in the game. (The Pats only scored one offensive touchdown in the game, a 24-17 final.) There was of course, a comeback, because these are the Steelers. But the inevitable Kordell Stewart interceptions notwithstanding, the blocked field goal was the true killer. And a lesson. Nothing is guaranteed. Especially in the NFL.

Pirates

The moment:

Duh. Francisco Cabrera. Sid Bream. I was 10 years old. And I haven’t seen a Pirate playoff game since.

Sid Bream never gets any faster, does he? If Bonds’ throw is accurate, he’s out by 10 feet.

But as bad as that was, the moment is much worse in hindsight because of what’s happened to Pirate baseball since. We couldn’t have known then what would happen in the following decades.

It still doesn’t compare to my most painful moment of being a Pittsburgh sports fan.

Penguins

A number of possibilities exist, from the David Volek OT goal to Tom Fitzgerald’s slapshot from Polish Hill. (That Eastern Conference Finals against the Panthers will probably always be the most frustrating series to me. What if the Panthers weren’t allowed to hold onto Lemieux and Jagr for seven straight games? Someone needs to make a “History Will Be Made” parody for that.) But nothing compares to…

It was the 1998-99 season. The Penguins were bankrupt. Relocation rumors were swirling. The future of the team in Pittsburgh was completely uncertain. There was a chance the playoff run was only delaying the inevitable.

The run wasn’t long, but it was memorable. The Pens were the eighth seed. Not a great squad, but they had the league MVP, and the world’s best player. Jaromir Jagr put the team on his back and the Pens defeated top-seeded New Jersey in seven games. This series is exhibit A when someone tries to tell you Jagr’s not a winner, or that he’s not clutch. His heroics in game six of that series — tying the game late, then winning it in overtime — are legendary.

Jags and the boys chugged along admirably, until they found themselves in an elimination game. Game six, at home against the Leafs. Enter former nondescript Penguin Garry Valk.

The moment:

Valk’s OT goal to eliminate the Pens in the 1998-99 Eastern Conference Semifinals was the goal that really could have ended a franchise. It could have been the last on-ice moment in Penguins history. No other loss could top the feeling of what could have been the last loss. Ever. I felt like crying, but I couldn’t. I was just numb. Completely numb.

I don’t know how I, or anyone, would choose to watch their favorite team play its last game. There’s no good way, really. But Garry Valk? In sudden death? Please. Not like this.

I have an excellent memory. But somehow, I’d completely forgotten what Valk’s goal looked like. I haven’t watched a replay in years. But this is all about embracing the pain. I know what I’ve got to do.

I don’t know how hundreds of Pittsburghers weren’t arrested for pummeling the Leaf fans that night. They either exhibited an amazing amount of self-control, or they were just as numb as I was.

***

When it comes to sports, the worst losses make the great wins feel even better. It’s true. To my Buffalo friends, I know that sounds like something people say to make you feel better. But for now, you’re just going to have trust me on this one.

http://bigguysmakinplays.tumblr.com/

Who doesn’t love seeing a big lineman unexpectedly taking off down the field, football in hand, hoping to score? Nobody, that’s who.

The Thundering Herd were up 15 points with 8:46 left in the game when they fumbled away a first-and-goal carry from the six-yard-line. West Virginia proceeded to score on its next two long drives — a 96-yard drive, followed by a 98-yard drive. First, the Mountaineers got a touchdown and an extra point, and after forcing a Marshall punt, they got the next touchdown and two-point conversion to force overtime. It’s a story we’ve seen before, and we know how it ends. WVU settled for a field goal in OT, but Marshall missed its attempt. Heartbreak … if Marshall can’t beat WVU under those circumstances, maybe it never will … yadda, yadda, yadda.

But what stood out to me most during West Virginia’s comeback was ESPN color commentator Rod Gilmore’s reaction after WVU kicked an extra point to make it 21-13. Gilmore called it a great coaching call. He said it allowed West Virginia to “extend the game.” He went on and on about what a great decision it was; how you don’t need to go for two that early.

I don’t see how this is the case. You still need the same amount of total points to force overtime. The time on the clock remains the same. You still kick to Marshall after the first touchdown. Nothing is extended.

I actually think the opposite of Gilmore’s claim is true. It probably makes more sense to go for two after the first touchdown. That way, you get a better sense of the urgency needed on your next drive, or whether you can let the game go down to the wire. If WVU goes for two and doesn’t get it, the team knows that with 5:28 left, they’re going to need two scores (down 21-12). They can then proceed accordingly. And that doesn’t mean they have to go for the onside kick right away. If you wait until the second touchdown to go for two, which West Virginia did, you don’t know that you need another score until there are 25 seconds remaining. And at that point, it’s probably too late to do anything about it.

In summary, if you know you need two scores earlier, maybe you use your timeouts earlier, run deeper patterns … you give yourself more time. (Of course, all of this assumes Marshall won’t be scoring again — that would make this entire debate irrelevant.)

But even if you understand my point, even if you agree with it … going for two earlier may not feel like the right move. Why? I think it’s explained by coaching conservatism, which runs rampant in football. Going for the extra point first doesn’t make it any easier to win the game. It merely delays the inevitable decision. However, if your team loses, you can say, “Well, we went for two, and we didn’t get it. We tried. We were right there.” Fans, coaches and players would all feel like it was a closer loss, just because it was decided in the last thirty seconds.  Because 21-18 after the second touchdown (and before the conversion attempt) doesn’t feel as good as 21-19, for obvious reasons. Feelings, nothing more than feelings.

I suppose the other argument for the false “extension” of the game is that it takes pressure off your team (and your QB) until the last possible moment. But I don’t think that’s much of a benefit. It’s a football game. There will be pressure situations.

When the scoreboard reads 21-19, it doesn’t matter. If one two-point conversion is missed — it doesn’t really matter when it happens. The loss is still a loss.

WVU saved the two-point conversion attempt for the end, and won. But that doesn’t mean it was such a brilliant call.