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So This Is What It's Like? Life with a Superstar

By craigadarcy, Section NFL
Posted on Mon May 21 2007 at 11:45 AM EST
More on: vick, falcons (all tags)

Growing up in Atlanta in the 1980's with a father that went to Mississippi State offered me a few things as a sports fan.  No, no, not enjoying games on prime time television or the thrill of winning the big one.  Think more along the lines of humility and hopelessness.  Being a fan of the Falcons, Braves, and Hawks as well as Mississippi State football and basketball in the 1980's was much like pledging Omega in Animal House.  More often than not, I found myself assuming the position and shouting "Thank you, sir, may I have another!"

My underdog status remained intact in the 1990's as well.  Despite some sporadic success by the Falcons and the impressive run by the Braves, I never felt emotionally invested in anything remotely close to a dynasty team or individual superstar.

Then came the 2001 draft and Michael Vick.  Much like Anakin Skywalker, I took a look at the dark side and loved it.  When the Falcons traded up to get Michael Vick, I made the smooth transition to front running hero worship.  Though Chris Chandler started for most of Vick's rookie season, it was only a matter of time until Vick took the reigns.  And when he did, it was something I had never experienced.  I could see the Falcons on the cover of every sports magazine, and not just in the background of a Jerry Rice touchdown picture.

The Vick era through 2004 was phenomenal.  Though off the field there always seemed to be somewhat of a cloud, on the field it was pure magic.  The Falcons made serious playoff runs in both 2002 and 2004, failing only in 2003 due to the 11th commandment that the Falcons shall never have back-to-back winning seasons.  It was in 2005 when life as a superstar apologist started to get a bit more difficult.  That was the year that one of Vick's friends stole a watch at the Atlanta airport and Vick dropped the Ron Mexico alias in a local clinic.  After that, Vick treated us to two years of mediocre football in which it became ever clearer that he likely was never going to progress in either talent or character.

But I was still on board.  Professional sports makes it a bit easier these days.  Even if your team is fronted by a dirtbag, there's always a Terrell Owens or Barry Bonds out there to make you feel like things could be worse.

And then came the past year.  First, Vick cruised off the field at the Georgia Dome after a subpar game against the Saints giving the crowd the middle finger.  Not good.  Then came the bizarre secret-compartment water bottle incident in the Miami airport.  That's not that weird, I guess.  I mean it kind of makes sense, right? It's a water bottle with a secret compartment where you keep your watches and jewelry and stuff, and maybe it smells like pot, but that doesn't mean anything, right?  Well I had just made it through the two month exercise of finding a way to shake that one off when the dog fighting allegations came along.

And so here I am, six years into the uncharted waters of climbing aboard the bandwagon of a superstar, and I want off.  I never thought I'd be lucky enough to have my favorite player's jersey coveted across the country.  It's what I always hoped for when I was growing up watching my teams get throttled by one superstar or another.  And now, I would love nothing more than to be able to hope for a complete Vick implosion just like I used to wish on those who won titles and graced video game covers in my youth.

And so with that I'm off to watch some golf, at least until someone blows the lid off of a Tiger Woods cockfighting ring.  With my luck, it's right around the corner.