If the Lakers decide they want to save money by not bringing Phil Jackson back, the LA-area sports media needs to pass the hat to try and keep him, because there is nobody better at giving quotes.  The most recent example was his Zen-ness’s observation that the Clippers’ weren’t cursed, they just had bad karma.  Lord Zenenstein is absolutely right—there are three kinds of losing franchises:  the losers (think: the Arizona Cardinals, the Bengals) basically teams that are just not very good for no reason other than that they suck; then there are the karmically-challenged (the Clippers, the LA Kings–anyone that watched the 30 for 30 on Gretzky knows that the Kings aren’t cursed by that trade but it certainly wasn’t good karma to screw the entire country of Canada); and lastly there are teams that are cursed. 

The last one is by far the smallest; they just don’t make good curses anymore.  Sports used to do it right.  You shaft a guy, he spits twice and spins in a circle, and suddenly your team can’t win a Championship; if you trade Ruth, your archrival gets to bitchslap you for nearly ninety years.  Like the mob breaking your legs, it’s dirty but fair.  But now that the Red Sox have won theirs, there’s one fewer curse in the world. 

To be cursed your fans need to be miserable, they need to feel dread every time the big game approaches, they need to know (just know!) that the team is going to hurt them and they’re going to do it because there are mystical forces colluding against them. Furthermore there needs to be one event that follows a long run of success, and immediately after that the success leaves…never to return again.  You’ll hear plenty of teams claim they are in this elite group- the “Vikings curse”, the “Browns curse”, etc.–but while it certainly must suck to cheer for those teams, surprisingly, the most cursed team in the NFL is the Chargers. 

Maybe it was the AFL/NFL merger in 1970 (only 12 Super Bowls have been won by former AFL teams.)  Maybe it was Conrad Hilton selling the team in ‘66 (the new owners Eugene Klein and Sam Schulman seemed like pretty decent guys but maybe they ran over a witch or slept with a gypsy’s daughter or something to bring this about.  Klein, a long-time democrat, did publically support Nixon in ’72 but that wouldn’t lead to being cursed…um…right?)  Maybe their Stadium, built in ’67, was designed by a guy that went to King Tut’s tomb or was a 27-year-old Rock Star or was elected President in a year that ends in zero.  Or more likely, it was changing their uniforms from the Powder Blue–surely the Forces That Be are totally rocking the light blue Alworth jersey like Snoop in the “Beautiful” video, and clearly switching to the dark blue in ’74 pissed them off. 

Before the 2009 season (when the AFL 50^th anniversary meant they wore the light blues often) the Chargers had 11 wins in their last 11 games while wearing the powder blues–including the fluky win over the Colts in the ’08 postseason.  Obviously no curse known to man or beast can override the power of a truly sweet uniform.  But whatever caused the curse, the success the Chargers had in the first half of the 60s (winning the AFC West 5 of the first 6 years and won the AFL Championship in ’63) immediately disappeared in the 2^nd half of the decade.

But again simply losing isn’t the same as being cursed.  The Chargers being the most dominant team of the early 60s followed by forty years without a Championship is heartbreaking but not paranoid-schizophrenia inducing.  Instead, like Bucky F’n Dent and Aaron F’n Boone proved to Red Sox fans, Chargers fans know what cursed losing looks like.  It’s losing to your archrivals in ways that defy human explanation. 

It’s 1978.  The Raiders QB–down by 6–fumbled the ball on the 12, and then kicked it forward, only to have the running back also knock it forward, only to have the tight end also knock it forward, into the end zone, before he fell on it with no time left (the rule change that an offensive player can’t advance a fumble was created that offseason.)  

It’s the ’81 playoffs in which they had to beat the Dolphins in 85 degree heat only to play the Bengals the next week in a wind-chilled minus 59 degrees.  Only voodoo can explain having back-to-back playoff games 144 degrees different.  Cursed losing is seeing your former players leave to the rival Niners so that they can win a Championship.  Cursed losing is decades of crappy teams.  Cursed losing is finally getting it together in ’94, making it all the way to the Super Bowl, only to see that same Niners team–the one that your players go to when they want to finally win one–and have that team absolutely demolish you.  There is little agony that can compare to choke jobs on the biggest stage.  There is little that can compare to your hopes and dreams going unused, like a dictionary in the Jersey Shore.   There is little to explain Ryan Leaf other than the work of very powerful forces that were very angry at San Diego.

The new millennium was not enough to change the story.  Our ex-players still broke up with us in order to go find what they were looking for somewhere else, this time in New England.  Our owner still supported Republicans with eavesdropping issues.  Our front office still fought with our coaches so that we couldn’t keep both.  The only thing different about the new incarnations of the curse was that like Samuel L. Jackson movies they seemed to be coming out constantly and all of them found new ways to suck. 

There was the 2004 postseason loss to the Jets.  It was the kind of loss that only cursed people know.  The come-from-behind, only to blow the lead, only to get a chance to comeback (and raise everyone’s hopes), only to miss a field goal with the game on the line.  At the time we thought our success made Eli (and puppetmaster Archie) Manning look stupid.  “If you think we can’t win, well shove these 12 wins up your…” but little did we know that Archie, like crucifixes and garlic, was just trying to stave off what was affecting the Chargers.

Then there was the 2006 postseason loss to the Patriots.  14 wins, LT looking like a God, Rivers looking like he figured It out.  But the fumbles, and mistakes, and the missed FGs, and the whatever-it-was-that-was-preventing-us-from-winning that day.  At the time we thought it was Marty Schottenheimer.  We thought the 14-2 followed by a first-game exit was his fault.  “If you can’t win in the playoffs, we don’t want you…” but little did we know that Marty might be an effect more than a cause. 

Then there was this past weekend.  The story is still fresh enough: Rivers collapsing, Kaeding–the most accurate kicker in NFL history–missing 3 FGs when just one would have sent it to OT, Revis’ interception–the one that bounced off VJ twice before falling into Revis’ hands–all of them are the kinds of things that happens when you’re cursed.   

But this time we can’t blame anyone corporeal.  We can’t blame bad luck, we can’t blame bad coaching, we can’t blame ourselves.  We simply need to understand that we are trifling with forces that we don’t understand.  We are cursed. 

So just how did the Red Sox beat Ruth’s curse?  Curt Schilling performed a heroic act (the bloody sock game) while invoking the only guy tougher than the Bambino, Lou Gerhig (with Schilling’s “K-ALS” note on his shoe.)  We’ll have to put our heads together and figure out what the equivalent of that would be in the NFL; or maybe we can invoke the Hilton legacy by bringing Paris to a game, or maybe we can just move stadiums, or maybe, just maybe, we should just get Phil Jackson to coach the team.