Football fans know the feeling better
than any one, for it is our constant ally - a
companion we count on to be there year in
and out.

Sometimes we feel we know it better
than our kids, our wives, our parents. We
have learned to accept it despite the
tendency to for it to be an annoyance.

Grief is that friend, the buddy we can't
seem to shake. For many, like those who
cheer for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, the
Nashville Titans, and even the Minnesota
Vikings, grief grips tighter than ever.

Those fans have never experienced the joy
of a championship - the only remedy for
grief.

After all, there is just one team's fans
each season who rid themselves of grief
and the disappointment that lingers from
loss during the long off-season.

It was three years ago when Packer fans
were finally relieved of the grief grip, but
that respite was short-lived and came back
with vengeance the next year when we
were shocked with the Super Bowl loss to
the Broncos.

At the end of that Super Bowl XXXII
Sunday, every Packer fan again embraced
their grief, re-learning how to cope. There
again was that old friend hanging over our
shoulder, just awaiting to harangue us. For
so long, especially through the "gory
years" of the 1970s and 1980s, we had
known grief week after week, season after
season.

Then came the 1990s, Mike Holmgren,
Ron Wolf, Brett Favre, and Reggie White.
Culminating in the magical season of 1996
and the Super Bowl title, we shrugged
grief aside like Reggie shedding an
offensive lineman.

The anticipation of never having to
deal with grief again stayed with us until
that fateful day in January 1999. That's
when the shock of that Super Bowl loss hit
us hardest. Grief was back in our hearts
and vocabulary.

The stages were evident in all of us.
First there was the shock of the loss.
Perspiration beaded our foreheads, we were
short of breath and the chips and bratwurst
were left cold on the party tables with the
loss of appetites.

Then came denial. We couldn't believe
it. For days, we conjured up delusional
images of how the commissioner reversed
the score because, somehow, the Broncos
had won illegitimately. We blamed
ourselves, saying "I knew I should have
worn my lucky shirt" or "I knew that when
I broke that special Packer cup it would be
a bad omen."

Anger then set in. We couldn't sleep,
running over every play of the game. We
were angry with Holmgren for allowing
the Broncos to score their last touchdown
so we could get the ball back. We were
angry at Brett Favre for rushing so many of
his passes because of the constant blitz.
The powerlessness we all felt only
complicated things.

As the days turned to months following
the loss, acceptance set in and a renewal to
a commitment to get back to the big game
washed over all of Packer-dom. We felt
good about the team again and excited to
get on with our lives.

For a short time, grief was gone. Until
the next season when the Vikings took the
division and the Packers fell in their first
playoff game at San Francisco. The deep
hurt from that final second loss opened the
wounds again and there was grief,
grinning maliciously.

By now, we have all recycled through
the stages and, again, have begun a new
season with a new coach and a new era.
But be ready, that constant ally is only
a few losses away from pouncing.

All we can do is be ready for the moment. If it doesn't come, it means we have won the Super Bowl. But, be ready. We know the lessons of history can be harsh and unending. Just like our old ally, grief.