Hype is thick. Hype can cloud the windshields of our lives. It’s in the next great movie we see commercials for, products we absolutely must have and in the eyes of entrepreneurs every idea they have. Hype fuels hope for so many things we hold dear and experience each and every day. Our personal passions are not immune, nor should they be.
Sports and the teams that drive passion and fanaticism are steeped in hype that inevitably fuels hope. The two are connected and some would say interchangeable.
A passionate Pistons fan hopes for a great season and quite possibly feels invigorated by the hype of Stanley Johnson, ownership and coaching stability and growth of fan-driven sites like PistonPowerd.
It becomes very muddy, though, for passionate fans to discern between hype and reality and the respective influence they have on the hope one has for their team prior to the season.
A recent column of mine, on PistonPowered, had a fan calling this author out for spreading hype.
“This is a great hype-post! Haha I’m almost ready to buy season tickets after reading that.” – umfan223
This may be true, but maybe just maybe it is more about what sports means to fans. Maybe the hype, that to some is clearly recognizable and called out, is actually a reflection of our own personal narrative. Our own experience of life and moments frozen in time from our own childhood.
If one believes, with all of their being, that their team has a shot maybe they feel they have a shot at feeling euphoric, at accomplishing something much more visceral.
I recall Game 7 of the 1988 NBA Finals as if it were yesterday. I was all of 11 years old. I had some friends coming over and I wanted to experience the coronation of a champion right along side Isiah Thomas and Dennis Rodman. Yes, the game was being played in Los Angeles and we were one Joe Dumars bending and twisting layup conversion from hoisting the Larry O’Brien trophy in Game 6, but I had hope.
Of course, at 11, we were not drinking adult beverages. The next best thing was sparkling grape juice packaged in a champagne bottle. Frozen pizzas were heating and the bubbly was ready. Only we didn’t win. The dreams of an 11 year old in suburban Detroit were dashed along with thousands of fans.
The NBA calendar turned and tears turned to bright eyes and looks of determination. The hype of 1989 fueled this author’s hope for another season. As we all know, 1989 proved a glorious year of redemption.
And, the cycle was imprinted on a young boy. Each season would be different. Each season would welcome new Pistons to the family. And, each season would allow fans to experience each and every glorious emotion unique to our species.
Some seasons all Pistons fans had was hype as the glimmer of hope was often shrouded in the reality that we were not very good or ill-equipped to survive the trials and tribulations of the postseason. And, each time Piston fans plugged into the hype if only for a glimmer of what might be, of what might come.
This is a different era. Some fans can look back on Piston championships forgetting the excitement while focusing on the ever fading memories of each Finals game.
Never forget why you are proud to be PistonPowered and how fans, teams and cities rally around the essence of hope and the impact of fleeting hype.
Hype has a shelf life. Enjoy it while you can. Maintain a childlike exuberance for the hope you hold that your Pistons can overcome a 10 point deficit and an even greater national discourse lamenting the perceived state of the franchise.
As Stanley Johnson put it, “Detroit vs. Everybody!”
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