Sunday’s game was weird; one of the weirdest I have attended. The Chiefs played terrible football. Disappointment after disappointment the Kansas City Chiefs fans endured.
And when we made the long, depressing trek home, we got blasted.
We, the fans who spent hard-earned money in a bad economy to drive, for many of us, literally hours to a game we knew in our hearts we had very little chance of winning.
We gave up golf, fishing, time with the family, even church, to see just another embarrassing performance by our beloved Chiefs.
We defended our Chiefs when the busloads of Ravens fans hurled challenges at us on the parking lot.
We do not complain when the Hunt family sells us a bag of Doritos and canned cheese sauce for shocking prices.
We quietly swipe our lifeless cards at the ticket gate, which replaced the sheets of tickets we couldn’t wait to ceremoniously unwrap and breathlessly examine each spring without a whimper, then save in our ticket drawers.
We thank the lady who hands out the two-sided piece of cardboard that replaced the chock full of exciting information “Snap” magazine we enjoyed in recent years. Another way to save money, it appears.
But what we did not do is cheer when Matt Cassel hit the turf Sunday and did not get up.
Did some fans? I’m sure they did. But I didn’t hear them.
Does a pickpocket incident make the Kansas City fans thieves?
Does a parking lot incident make the Kansas City Chiefs fans horrible drivers?
Does an inebriated fan make the Kansas City Chiefs fans drunks?
Of course not.
Why did Eric Winston choose to blast the Kansas City fans Sunday?
There are multiple possibilities.
I’ll go with the possibility that Eric Winston isn’t used to playing in front of the most dedicated, civilized, family-oriented, loyal fans in the NFL and simply mistook a cheer for Matt’s mobility as a celebration of his injury.
And I will leave it as that.
I’ll continue to praise the wonders of Arrowhead Stadium to the wide-eyed kid with the ancient Rison jersey down the street.
I’ll keep calling my pals to confirm that they will keep their promise to make the trek with me to the greatest NFL stadium in the world, with less and less confidence they will go as the season progresses.
I’ll still plan my jersey choice weeks in advance of my beloved home games.
And I’ll continue to make that three-hour trek to the stadium on home game Sundays.
I’m sorry you were embarrassed to be playing football Sunday, Eric.
I, for one, am embarrassed you were playing, too.