Which Athlete Broke Your Heart?

I grew up in the East Bay, grew up on the A's and Warriors and Raiders - seeing them all abandon the city has been tough, but sports team owners will always go where the money is. And truthfully, those moves didn't hurt as bad as the Pac-12 breaking up. (I figure the A's and Raiders are just doing one of those "residency" deals in Vegas).
But the first athlete to really break my heart was seeing Rick Barry leave the Warriors after they won the title. The break-up of the A's title teams never made me mad at the players,

 

I defended Pete Rose way past the time he was worthy of defense.

 

Little kid hero department: Dick McAuliffe. I loved his batting stance and his grit and I couldn't believe the Tigers traded him to the Red Sox at the end of his career, probably because he wanted to be closer to his home. I learned early that baseball in a business first and entertainment second.

Oh, what might have been department: Mark Fidrych. You can't understand the magic of 1976 without understanding how terrible the 1970s were for Detroit. He may have only had a pedestrian major league career even without the injury (according to FIP), but I'd love to go back in time and tell him not to climb the fence in Lakeland at spring training.

Why don't you just give me 1,000 paper cuts and pour lemon juice on it department: Buck Belue to Lindsay Scott.

 

This is hard. I remember when Joe Montana went to the Chiefs and I tried to pretend I was a Kansas City fan but I don’t really think I appreciated What Joe leaving really meant.

I remember turning on TO when he called out Jeff Garcia then became a Cowboy.

But players leaving never broke my heart. It was always moments. Game 6 2002, the Williams muffing two kicks in 2012, losing Super Bowl LIV (strangely not so much losing SB XLVII), the check swing that wasn’t in 2021.

 

Magic Johnson.

 

my wife was probably the last person to give up on Lance Armstrong. It is probably the biggest disagreement we've had in our 20 years together and 13 years of marriage, if that's our biggest argument, we'll be together forever, so that's a positive.

 

Like so many other Chicagoans, I was all about the Chicago Bears and their dominant defense in the 1980s.

They destroyed everyone in their path in the 1985 postseason, ending it by pasting the Patriots in Super Bowl XX. Surely this would be the first of several championships, right?

Wrong. And the worst disappointment was 1988. Chicago has the best record in the NFC, and most of the defensive standouts of the 1985 team were still on the roster. Even Jim McMahon was still around, and new talents like Neal Anderson and Brad Muster were on the team. After dismissing Buddy Ryan and his Eagles in the Fog Bowl, Chicago would host the flashy 49ers in cold, bitter "Bear Weather" for a berth in the Super Bowl. Couldn't wait to see Ditka and company finally take down San Francisco.

Instead, Joe Montana, Jerry Rice and the 49ers played like the cold-blooded assassins they were, dismantling the Bears 28-3 in a game Chicago never had a chance of winning.

For all of the crappy losses to Favre, Rodgers and the Packers in the years since, that one hurt the most. Jan. 8, 1989.

It was the end of the Super Bowl championship team, and Chicago really hasn't done much since (their 2006 season was a fluke, and after Hester's game-opening TD, the Super Bowl was pretty much all Colts).

 

My head always told me he was doped to the gills (along with all the others in the peloton), but my heart kept holding out hope that he wasn't.

Aside from a college volleyball player I dated one semester who dumped me, Neil Fucking O'Donnell broke my heart in January 1996.

 

Jose Mesa.

Jim Leyland should still not have a World Series.

 

And I know there is a version of this thread where people suddenly had to root for Deion Sanders when he was wearing their uniform - always made me laugh when former Dodgers ended up on the Giants and my uncle suddenly had to root for players he'd been trashing forever.

 

Len Bias.

 

Leon Durham in Game 5 of the 1984 NLCS. Coincidentally, his crucial error was duplicated two years later in the World Series by Bill Buckner, who Durham had replaced at first base for the Cubs. A lot of people remember Buckner's boot rather than Durham's, but the latter remains a sore spot with me.

I was working the sports desk of a small pm daily that year, which let me break in the afternoon in time to watch the televised home games on WGN. I couln't have missed more than one or two all season. I had a big emotional investment. And for once the Cubs had some solid pitching. They should have put the Padres away.

The Cubs were the first pro sports team I ever rooted for; I was a Chicago boy from the near north side, and even though they were terrible for all those years, they were my neighbors. The heartbreak of '69 didn't deter me, but in '84 I washed my hands of them. They finally won a Series, and I don't care. They could win 10 more -- I won't be back.