Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance and Ottawa Senators Fandom

Please allow me the opportunity to tie a personal anecdote into this tale of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These things usually go in stages, but for a fanbase that has been through the wringer like this one, we're experiencing all five at once, all the time.

It was August 2017 when I went on a date with a girl who made it clear in her dating profile that she did not like sports (unless you consider playing Pokemon a sport). While I steered the conversation to more mutually exciting topics, I couldn't help bringing up my Senators fandom, the magic of watching Erik Karlsson, and the incredible experience of cheering on our team to within one heartbreaking goal of the Cup final.

This was my denial phase, the denial of the bleak era of Senators hockey to come. Just one more step to go for championship glory. As experts predict the Senators to be at the bottom of the division year after year, we deny that maybe, contrary to all evidence, this team just isn't very good. 

In the seven years since, this disinterested-in-hockey girl became my wife. We've bought and renovated a house together and visited multiple provinces, states, and countries. We adopted a hyper puppy that's now a relaxed 5-year-old, 65-pounder. She's even befriended all my fellow Senators fan buddies. My hockey-indifferent wife can name more Sens players than I can name Pokemon at this point. 

But there's one thing our relationship has never seen or endured: A Sens playoff run. It's been seven years without one. Not a short in-and-out sweep, not the ups and downs of a long run that ends in heartbreak, and certainly not tasting championship glory. 

Not even a single "meaningful" game in the spring time. 

My wife has seen my stages, such as denial about how this might not be our year. Bargaining about what needs to go right this year. Much anger towards the organization, ownership, players, and even the league for fining the team first-round picks and suspending good young players for half a season for vague reasons. Depression after spending hundreds of dollars to see the Sens cough up a 5-0 lead in the first period. 

This, after growing up in an era where they made playoffs every year, to when I was in the seventh grade to wrapping up my sixth and final year of post-secondary education in 2009. When you measure eras of success and failure relative to your own milestones in life, they can seem to stretch on forever in the eye of retrospect.

Senators fans are familiar with the stages at this point when it comes to an individual season. Depression as the team loses in embarrassing fashion to the Chicagos and Anaheims of the league and gives up six goals on 20 shots against the Caps. We bargain that if we only had a goalie, one more top 4 right shot D, if we just got rid of this guy or that guy, or if this team could just summon a little consistency and commitment to a system that got 7 of 8 points against Dallas, Vegas, Tampa, and Florida, they'd be right there.

Then comes acceptance, which is tied directly into the denial of how a team spending to the cap with this much talent can be this bad, the bargaining of if they win 25 of 30 games, they can still make it, the anger of another lost season, and the depression of spending three hours of your time watching the team lay another egg. At the same time, Toronto-centric announcers take every opportunity to fawn over Auston Matthews. One look at the standings with a point deficit that even a Hamburglar run wouldn't overcome, and most accept the inevitable fate of another playoff season without the Senators in it. Some hit this acceptance during the annual losing streak in November; others don't hit it until the Senators drop a dud with zero shots in the third period against Nashville.

With all this denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, there's another element of acceptance in sports fandom. Things can change fast, sometimes with the most innocuous of moves. 

Ask the Vancouver Canucks, who spent a decade after their 2011 finals loss as a middling team with meddling ownership and more playoff misses than appearances, who all of a sudden find themselves at the top of the standings after trading their captain and replacing him with non-name brand players like Filip Hronek and Sam Lafferty and bringing in a new coach. 

Consider the Tampa Bay Rays, Toronto Raptors, Denver Nuggets, Colorado Avalanche, Chicago Cubs, and countless other examples of markets big and small that were inept for long stretches but then won championships and turned it around quickly when they did. We accept the possibilities of a turnaround because what's the fun in cheering for a team you don't believe in?

It goes the other way, too, when things are bleak. We deny that things will ever get better. We're angry about losing streaks, that brutal giveaway that ended up in the net, and wasting good performances let down by shaky goaltending or vice-versa. We bargain with ourselves about the changes we need to see, obvious to all except management. We get depressed about blocking off another three-hour window to watch our favorite team not show up in a lost season. 

But among all that, you can also accept that you'll be right back there early next season, excited about the possibilities, convinced the changes made were the right ones. Acceptance of the ebbs and flows of success and failure in sports fandom can save you a lot of denial, anger, bargaining, and depression along the way. 

After all, it worked for the Chicago Cubs. Eventually.