The Broncos are on Bye and so is my Heart

In 2009, my favorite band broke up. The Barenaked Ladies were fun enough on the radio but I actually found a lot of weird and impactful music when I dug into their discography as a high schooler. Their breakup was disappointing, sure, but what struck me horrified was that even though the front man left and the magic was gone, the other guys…kept going. They put out zombie album after zombie album, full of unlistenable trash – they still do, every year or so. I dutifully flipped through the tracks to look for anything worth salvaging, but each time I left with a unique kind of pain in my heart. Eventually I stopped listening to music entirely in favor of podcasts, documentaries, and let’s plays. The magic was gone.

Pictured: every good Barenaked Ladies song since 2009

Imagine my surprise in 2021 when that odd, unique pain returned to my heart. The Denver Broncos were a zombie football team. We trotted players out each game, but whatever magic inhabited this team in the Manning era was gone. Even Phillip Lindsay, my favorite Bronco, was gone. Who were these guys in orange on the turf? Would they matter in a year? Forget winning games, we weren’t even watchable football anymore. I started adopting other teams to root for while I waited for the soul to return to the rotting corpse of my favorite football team.

So it remains. No exciting trade, draft choice, or free agent signing moves the rock. New ownership tried to provide a jolt of electricity with Russell Wilson, sure. And he’s fine. But it only turned the zombie into a Frankenstein’s monster situation. This evening, as I type out these meaningless tragedies to you so nonchalantly, I realized how to conceptualize that pain. As my favorite band and my football team are, so too is my heart on bye. I don’t know if they will ever return. In the finite season of my life, I may not see it come to pass in any of these three instances. I just want to care. But the equipment with which I would do so, is on bye.

We beat the Chiefs last week. Meaningful? Yes. Fuck the Chiefs. But also, who cares. Once the endorphins wore off, I realized we still didn’t have an identity. Am I supposed to believe this was the moment that warmth returned to the long clammy and pale skin of my zombie Broncos? No. A dead fish might still give it a good few flops as late as when it enters the oven.

Our first game after the bye is the perplexingly inconsistent Bills team. They haven’t put it all together for four quarters this season, they’re beatable. We have our buy week to prepare. A win isn’t impossible. If we do win, all of Broncos Country is going to panic. WE’RE ALIVE! WHAT DO WE DO? WIN THE SUPER BOWL?! No, no. Calm down. Joy does not live here, it splits tenancy like a timeshare with its friends despair and shame. The others will be back here shortly.

Call me when the Ladies get another hit on the radio. Up til then, my heart is on bye.