Is this the second or third year San Diego has been without a professional football team? Fourth?
Pardon my not knowing. I stopped being a fan of the sport ages ago, and the Chargers stopped playing like professionals around 1998, the year they drafted quarterback Ryan Leaf, and four years after they appeared in their only Super Bowl.
When the Chargers finally decided to leave town and their fans were relieved of the burden of watching the Blue and Gold stumble their way across the gridiron in person, there were many in the community who thought San Diego would never be the same.
The 2017-18 season came and went with the Chargers playing in Carson and the team narrowly missing the playoffs. Again.
San Diegans — those who chose not to make the hour-plus commute north — who pined for the team that gave them so many good memories, watched from afar. Or not at all.
Have we survived?
Did the city of San Diego survive the Chargers departure? Is the county still one of the top places to visit among tourists and are families still going about their daily lives earning a living and getting a life where and when they can?
Yeah. We are.
Team boosters argued before the day football died in San Diego that with the team’s departure America’s Finest City, and the region in general, would suffer a blow to its psyche. Sunny Town, USA, would now be Backwater, America. The argument went that the only people who would care about a city without a football team would be snake oil salesmen and Bible pushers.
Yet despite the aching hearts and silent Sundays in Mission Valley September through December, life has gone on.
Sports apparel merchants adapted their game plans and fans of the sport found other NFL teams to cheer for. Raiders fans still wander the streets and neighborhoods of Chula Vista and National City as they always have while fans of the other futbol travel across the border to watch their team play in Estadio Caliente.
The Chargers leaving gave some football widowers and widows their spouses back and while some bars may have lost a few bucks because patrons were no longer watching the Chargers in bars, those same imbibers are spending time at brunches with bottomless mimosas.
Without the heaviness and hurt of another Chargers last- minute loss, Sunday has become Funday again.
Monday mornings are no longer spent rehashing missed tackles, blown coverage or Phillip Rivers’ inability to take the team to the next level.
And though the stadium in the center of San Diego serves as reminder of one team’s mediocrity it is also a monument to freedom. Freedom from having to worry if your team is leaving the city. Freedom from loss-induced heartache. And freedom to get on with our lives.
