Super Bowl 48 left me reeling.

As a Bronco fan, there’s nothing quite like watching your team dominate all season long only to play in the Super Bowl and put up that dud of a performance.

As I watched Seattle celebrate and listened to my friends preach the disgustingly relevant mantra “defense wins championships,” I found myself proclaiming my hatred for all that is sports-related for the first time in my life. That’s when it dawned on me. The epiphany that echoed throughout my two decades of fandom and shattered my very understanding of a life milestoned by sports history: why bother? It’s just a game.

I don’t receive anything when my teams win except for a false sense of accomplishment and a misplaced sense of pride and I certainly don’t get anything when they lose besides self-pity. So why worry about it? Why not shed my fandom once and for all and emerge from the filth of heartbreak and hopelessness to what I imagine is a pleasant life filled with conversations about the weather? In my search for answers, one name came to mind: Gary Degen.

Hours before the Super Bowl, I found out Degen had terminal prostate cancer that had spread to his spine. When he was diagnosed, he was told he would be lucky to make it to February.

Instead of taking the diagnosis lying down, Degen spent every day he could helping his oldest son, a high school football player, train for hours on end. A lifelong football fan, Degen entered into an NFL.com contest for tickets to the Super Bowl, hoping that even if he couldn’t live long enough to go, his sons could have the once-in-a-lifetime experience for him.

Not only did Degen later find out that he had won the contest and would be featured on FOX along with the other winners before the game, he found out that his cancer was effectively beaten and he would be going to the game with his sons.

I don’t know Gary Degen and I likely never will, but during those few moments that I learned of his struggle and his hope to spend time with his sons over the common sport they love, I came to the realization that I already did know him. I had met thousands of people before just like him. I had spent hours standing in the freezing cold to watch my team with people just like him.

‘Why bother?’ I had asked myself. After a week of contemplation, I still have no answer for the question that had echoed in my head the rest of that night. All I have wondered instead is, ‘why not?’ After all, it’s just a game.

jdredmon@mavs.coloradomesa.edu