Even after the game, spontaneous chants erupted from the concourses and spilled into the parking lot. Some dude began spontaneously cleaning my windshield with his Nuggets sweatshirt in an illogical act of alcohol-induced, fan-frenzied fraternalism.
But it was more than just a sports drought. Colorado, like the rest of the world, has been battered by the recession and the relentless negative news as of late. Throw in the Columbine anniversary, the recession, the gloomy spring weather, and the swine flu, and you have a city that is itching for something to cheer about. Last night, they got it.
The truth must be that we live vicariously though our sports heroes, and that in our fractured political and social world, we seek for a common identity, a bond that unites us. When our local heroes--our soldiers, our gladiators, our valiant young men-- taste glory, we taste it with them. If they are winners, then so are we. When else can 19,000 strangers make fools of themselves in front of each other and chant their way into euphoria? Now that one of our own, Chauncey, is the team leader, it makes that connection all the more tangible.