In Big Daddy Balls’ 2016 edition of “Why Your Team Sucks” for the Chicago Bears, the fan responses were a pretty standard collection of laments about the team’s ineptitude and fan culture.  Not exactly the place you’d look for a true revelation.  But I found one there, and it took a full three years to put down roots in the silver and black loam of my soul, send up a hungry seedling, grow into a healthy mature plant, and now finally fully blossom into a realization that I expect to change my life for the better.

“You don’t have to go.”

Those were the words that reader Dan’s wife said to him as he prepared to trudge out into a miserable day in December to watch the Bears lose, yet again.  And that is the philosophy I’ll be embracing this season as what used to be “my” Raiders embark on what will undoubtedly be their 17th sub-.500 season of the last 18 years.  I don’t have to go.  I don’t have to watch.  I don’t have to be a witness to any of this.

I don’t have to pay attention to any of the circus-type nonsense that’s happening at training camp.  I don’t have to convince myself that the motley collection of reaches, busts, castoffs, and malcontents that the Raiders have managed to assemble will actually be able to compete against thoughtfully, properly constructed rosters.  I don’t have to watch their defense make second-string quarterbacks look like the second coming of Joe Montana.  I don’t have to watch them lose, again and again and again.

I don’t have to do any of that.  I can just skip it.

It’s interesting how something that is bad for you can insinuate itself into your life.  Facebook taught me that.  I quit facebook about a year ago, with the expectation that when I did, I’d feel disconnected, and that I’d miss it.  It turns out I was very wrong about that – after a couple of weeks of vague withdrawal, I barely thought about it at all.  And I don’t have much of a social life, so the only way I felt disconnected was in that I no longer participated in the political screaming matches that have erupted as a result of half of America openly embracing white supremacy while obstinately refusing to openly admit that they have done so.  I certainly don’t miss that.

My feelings toward my imminent divorce from the NFL are not too different.  Is the NFL bad for me?  That’s hard for me to say.  At this point in my life, though, the best I can say for it is that it’s neutral.  The game, and my experience of watching it, has certainly changed to the point where it definitely no longer brings me joy.  Part of that is related to the fact that the Raiders have sucked for the better part of two decades, and will continue to suck this year.  But there’s so much more.  Watching football is no longer an exercise in watching spectacular feats of athleticism – it’s now an exercise in watching spectacular feats of athleticism and then waiting to see whether or not those feats will actually count for anything once the flags have fallen to earth or by the end of an interminable review.  And as much as football’s proponents insist that we must “stick to sports”, the moral baggage that comes with consuming what the Gingerhammer himself describes as the “entertainment product” has finally reached such a crushing weight that it’s overwhelmed my enjoyment of the parts of football that actually still qualify as “sport”.

This hasn’t happened to me overnight.  The stage was set last November after Derek Carr intentionally threw the ball into the ground on fourth down with the game on the line.  I immediately took both my Chinese-made knockoff jerseys and handed them to my housekeeper’s kid, asking if he knew anyone who’d want them.  He said he might.  But it wasn’t until about a month ago, when the NFL announced that it no intention to discipline Tyreek Hill in any way whatsoever for his actions and/or inaction regarding the abuse of his own child, that my decision was solidified and I decided that I was going to leave the NFL behind.  The same way that I left facebook behind.  And the same way that I’ve left the Simpsons behind.  And the same way that the Raiders are leaving the city of Oakland behind.

As far as Those Raiders of Mine, here’s a few notes regarding the upcoming season: Every aspect of the team should improve considerably over last year, but won’t.  Derek Carr will still get sacked far too often, the Raiders’ receivers will drop far too many catchable balls, the defensive backs will blow far too many coverages, the defensive line will deliver far too few sacks and far too little pressure, opponents will casually rack up far too much yardage and score far too many points.  The Raiders will finish at 5-11 or 6-10, with only one or two wins within the division.  And then they’ll rinse and repeat in 2020, in a new city.