Opinion: Broncos fan fuming over Cutler trade

The Jay Cutler trade ignited fury in the hearts of thousands of Denver Broncos fans, but Greg Rodriguez's flame burned the brightest.

He called the Broncos office Thursday evening.

"Tell Pat Bowlen I'm burning all my Broncos stuff," Rodriguez announced to an operator.

"OK," the operator said politely in her sweet voice. "I'll be sure to do that."

A few hours later, Rodriguez retreated to his backyard on Prospect Street near Patty Jewett Golf Course and started a fire in a steel garbage can.

Then he destroyed his Broncos treasures, collected over nearly four decades. He tossed T-shirts, sweatshirts and, with reluctance, jerseys into the flames.

The fire devoured Bubby Brister's No. 6 and Al Wilson's No. 56.

"I shouldn't have burned Al's jersey," Rodriguez said, regret in his voice. "But I had to do it. I had to."

Rodriguez, 42, has followed the Broncos his entire life. His father, Leo, was an original season ticket holder, dating to 1960.

Greg has watched Rich Jackson, Floyd Little, Steve Ramsey, Rick Upchurch, Tom Jackson, Steve Atwater, Terrell Davis and Brandon Marshall.

He suffered through years of losing. He rejoiced on Jan. 31, 1999, after the Broncos won their first Super Bowl. He was whooping and crying and laughing with his father. This remains one of the better moments of his life.

He's been a typical Front Range Broncos freak. Sure, the team angered and confused him, but the Broncos were like family. He always reconciled with his team. This was a deep, inexplicable, seemingly permanent bond.

Something snapped Thursday.

"I'm not crazy," Rodriguez said. "I'm just telling you, I'm done."

Does it make sense to ignite your past?

No.

But does anything about fandom make sense?

Why give your heart to a collection of players you never will meet? Why shout at a TV while watching a game played hundreds of miles away? (The players can't hear you, and all you do is irritate your wife. Trust me on this one.)

Why?

I don't know.

I do know a fan's delusional, goofy behavior increases the fun found in life.

In the grand scheme, a game means nothing, but the meaninglessness of it all is the main ingredient of the fun. A game offers an incomparable escape from what really matters.

Rodriguez swears he has taken his last Broncos escape. He will pretend the team doesn't exist.

He sees the Cutler-Broncos feud in simple terms. He believes Cutler would have lifted the Broncos to heights not seen since John Elway trotted into the sunset.

In Rodriguez's eyes, new coach Josh McDaniels humiliated Cutler, all but forcing him to leave. McDaniels recklessly shredded a franchise, alienated fans and inspired flames in a Springs backyard.

"They don't care about the fans," Rodriguez said. "They bring in a Bill Belichick wanna-be? This is how they reward the fans?
"I've been with them through the lean times and the bad times. I've been with them since I was a little kid."

He's not with them any longer.

Under cover of night, with his two young children asleep, he burned his Broncos treasures.

They quickly turned to ashes as a long, happy sports romance went up in smoke.