The Grinch Who Stole Football

Written and Illustrated by: Patrick Johns

Every Who-Dey down in Who-Dey-ville, liked their football team a lot…
But the Grinch, who inherited the whole team from his dad, did NOT!
With the way the Grinch ran things, he should have been taken to court.
Despite no championships, the Who-Deys still gave their support.

The Grinch woke up on game day and was in a horrible mood.
“My mission is to destroy each Who-Dey’s happy attitude!”

“I’ll make gate entry slow and won’t shovel the snow off their seats.”
“I’ll serve the hot chocolate cold and sell them expired meats.”
“The Who-Deys will whine and complain, but still give me their last dimes.”
“They’ll freeze their Who-Dey butts off and all have miserable times.”

The Who-Deys showed up to the game and proudly all joined hands.
Then loudly sang a Who-Dey chant, atop the snowy stands.
This surprised the Grinch, “Why the hell are they here and not leaving?”
“Oh, just wait until the game begins, then they’ll all be grieving.”

The Bungles team played poorly and got punched badly in the lip.
A rather pathetic display, they lost twenty-four to zip.

The icy, snowy seats caused the Who-Deys’ asses to be chapped.
Combined with the terrible loss, the Who-Deys finally snapped!
The Who-Deys took the snow from their seats and marched it to the field.
They started building something with it, as the Grinch watched and squealed.

“What are they building?” the Grinch wondered (his brain couldn’t compute).
Then he realized what it was… a big, one-finger salute.

This made the Grinch sad and he contemplated his life.
“Perhaps I should do something to end the Who-Deys’ strife.”
“I have a chance to right my wrongs, but what should I do for them?”
“Increase the scouting department? Maybe hire a GM?”

“A-ha!” the Grinch exclaimed. “I have an even better idea!”
“My plan’s so great, they’ll forget the team plays like diarrhea!”
The Grinch grabbed a hat, a sack, and the keys to his motor cart.
Then drove out onto the field, to win over each Who-Dey heart.

The Grinch parked near the Who-Deys, it was time to address each fan.
He opened up his full sack and started his redemption plan.

“I’m so sorry that you’re angry, I’ve treated you all like pawns.”
“I know everyone’s upset and thinks the team’s run by morons.”
“I’ve given you many bad squads, including the ones with cons.”
“Please forgive me and take all of these valuable coupons!”

The Who-Deys rejected his cheap, crummy attempt at a gift.
They were clearly fed up with the Grinch’s penny-pinching thrift.
They chased his cart out of Who-Dey-ville, telling him to scram!
Maybe now they’d get a new owner, one who gives a damn.

The End.

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I have been guilty many, many times of wasting away Sundays on the Cincinnati Bengals. I decided to take an inward look at myself and try to figure out the answer to the lifelong question: Why am I still a Bengals fan?

Before I attempt to tackle that complex interrogation, let’s take a brief look at some moments in my Bengals fandom through the years. Are these examples of fan loyalty or insane behavior?

CHILDHOOD YEARS
I grew up in Cincinnati and inherited being a Bengals fan. In 1994, I was 14 and the Bengals had a 2-13 record going into their season finale against the Eagles on Christmas Eve. I had to go to mass with my family during the game, so I snuck my Walkman into church and had the wired earbud headphones go through one of my sleeves so I could listen to it. They were 2-13 (not going to the playoffs), but I was risking getting grounded to hear if they could pull out their third win of the season.

COLLEGE YEARS
I went to college at BGSU in northern Ohio (before the time of streaming TV) and the local channels would only air the Browns games. To watch the Bengals, I would have to walk from my dorm to a place called Downtown Sports Bar by myself (nobody else that I knew at school was a big enough Bengals fan or dumb enough to join me). I wasn’t old enough to drink, so I would always buy a Coke and a popcorn from the bar as my financial donation for watching the game there.

The bar had Sunday Ticket and the Bengals games were consistently shown on the worst TV in the bar (a small CRT TV that was in an isolated corner). The TV never had sound (I guess the bar didn’t want to risk their other customers having to hear what the Bungles were doing).

I would sit there on an uncomfortable stool for 3.5 hours, most likely watch the Bengals lose (their combined record for my 4 years of college was 17-47), and then hike back to my dorm in cold, gusty winds.

ADULT YEARS
There’s nothing really unique about the adult years. They have consisted of planning Sundays around the Bengals schedule, watching every game (unless I’m driving back from an out of town family trip, then I bother my family by listening to the game on the radio), occasionally yelling at the TV, being in a better mood after the game if they won, being a little bummed out if they lost, listening to Bengals podcasts, and always keeping up with Bengals news year-round.

So now, back to the main question…

Why am I still a Bengals fan?

Ownership usually does the bare minimum and doesn’t implement everything in their power to deliver an excellent product.

But I’m from Cincinnati and I gotta support the team.

If a local restaurant makes crappy food, do I follow my Bengals logic and keep eating there?

No, I would find other restaurants to eat at or eat at home.

Why can’t I use that smart reasoning and apply it to my Bengals habit?

The Bengals aren’t always doom and gloom. Like the amateur golfer that finally makes a perfect shot which keeps them coming back to play, an amazing Burrow throw or spectacular Chase catch is what entices me to keep watching and hoping.

I have only paid to go to a handful of Bengals games in my life and I haven’t been to one since the Dalton/Green days. I have a few Bengals t-shirts and an old Bengals sweatshirt. My main contribution to the Bengals is paid with my most valuable currency: time.

From listening to multiple Bengals podcasts, reading articles, and suffering through the games, I devote a notable chunk of my time to the Bengals.

I have come to the conclusion that the reason I’m still a Bengals fan is because of the amount of time I have already invested. I can’t seem to cut my losses. I’ve stuck with the Bengals this far in my life and I fear that if I jumped ship and they actually won a Super Bowl, it wouldn’t feel as special as it would if I never left.

What I am experiencing is known as Sunk Cost Fallacy. Here’s the definition from the Oxford Languages dictionary: The phenomenon whereby a person is reluctant to abandon a strategy or course of action because they have invested heavily in it, even when it is clear that abandonment would be more beneficial.

Consider me sunk.

I say that, yet my own brother (who was a huge Bengals fan right alongside me) got so fed up during the later Marvin Lewis years that he revoked his Bengals fan card. Completely quit watching and paying attention. I couldn’t believe it! I think I was a little jealous that he had actually pulled it off.

But, years later, guess who came back to the fan club after Joe Burrow started slinging? My brother. Do I think he is any less of a fan as me? Nope. If anything, he’s smarter.

Why do I hold myself to a different set of standards?

The hardest pill to swallow while sticking with the Bengals is knowing that ownership doesn’t hold up their part of the bargain. It makes me wonder how much they truly care. I know that ownership is happy when the team wins, but they’re simply not doing everything in their power to help the team excel. After each gut-punch loss, I get an image like this in my head…

Since I can’t get myself to quit on the team, I have recently been implementing a strategy to cut down on the time I waste on Sundays.

I have YouTube TV and the Bengals games are set to record. I will do something productive for about an hour and a half when the game starts (go for a hike, play with my kids, work on some artwork). Then I will start watching the game from the beginning, but I can skip through the commercials and extra time in between plays, etc. Eventually I will be caught up and watching live in the 3rd/4th quarter, so I can enjoy the concluding heartbreak at the same time as all the other Bengals fans. Afterwards, I can look back at my 1.5 hours of productivity and appreciate that I didn’t waste my whole afternoon on the team.

I consider this strategy to be like a nicotine patch that slowly weans myself off of the Bengals time-suck. Who knows, maybe some day I’ll be able to quit entirely. Until then, Who Dey!