Fans Get Ugly, Irrational Over Missed Kicks

PHOENIX – As of Friday afternoon, there were seven new Facebook pages devoted to Alex Zendejas, and depending on which side of the divide you straddle, the University of Arizona kicker is either the latest sympathetic figure to be caught in a frightening cultural undertow, or Lucifer incarnate.

Death threats, naturally, followed the online taunts created by anonymous cowards too weak to sign their names to their handiwork. They warned Zendejas to stay clear of the Tucson campus, typical cyber-bullying from gutless wimps who wouldn't dare come out of their protective caves.

What heinous crime had Zendejas committed to warrant such scorn? Two of his extra point attempts were blocked Thursday night in the Wildcats' stunning 30-29 double overtime loss at home to rival Arizona State. Reasonable folks viewed it as a college kicker having a bad night. Demented sports fans saw it as an invite to channel their inner terrorist.

Upon missing the PAT that would have tied the game in the second overtime, Zendejas tossed his helmet to the ground and headed for the Wildcats' locker room. On the way he exchanged words with a gaggle of heckling UA fans who looked as if their heads were about to explode. They were livid, spewing obscenities that were drowned out by the Arizona State band as it rushed the field. Soon the band was going crazy, dancing and playing ominous music from Star Wars, and as the dejected, angry hometown crowd left the stadium, you didn't need to be Edgar Cayce to predict what came next.

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"Betty White kicks better than Alex Zendejas."

"Alex Zendejas should never show his face in Tucson."

"100 people who can kick better than Alex Zendejas."

There were other, more profane pages created in Zendejas' dishonor. Some even managed to spell all the words correctly. Not a single one identified the page author. Cowards, all of them.

Sociologists believe the mounting hate-affair fans have with athletes is tied to the recession and society's general malaise. People are miserable and disgruntled – jobs are scarce, the wife will never look like a Victoria's Secret model, damn kids won't get off the lawn – and so we expect our teams to make us smile. When they don't, the rage finds an easy target.

Kickers, especially, are fresh, obvious prey. They aren't muscled up and tend to be fairly cerebral, traits often associated with fragility. In truth kickers often have to be the toughest of the bunch, because it takes a hardened soul to recover from failing so dramatically.

Today it's Arizona's Zendejas, who one year ago nailed a 32-yard field goal on the game's final snap to beat the Sun Devils in Tempe. Last week it was Kyle Brotzman, the Boise State kicker who botched two field goals – a short one at the end of regulation, another in overtime – in the Broncos' prime-time loss to Nevada, crushing Boise State's national title hopes.


It took about five seconds for irate Boise fans to unleash their disgust. The Ada County Sheriff's Department reported callers leaving ugly, harassing telephone messages with someone they presumed to be related to Brotzman, a local kid whose kicks heretofore had been close to perfect. Nasty Facebook pages began to sprout like weeds. He was called awful things, mocked and taunted and cyber-crucified by hundreds and hundreds of big tough losers.

But then came an extraordinary backlash, giving us reason to believe civility hasn't completely vaporized. In the space of a day, the "Bronco Nation Loves Kyle Brotzman" Facebook page grew and grew, as dozens and then hundreds and then thousands of people posted heartwarming messages of encouragement.

At last count, 42,659 people "liked" the page. It's a good thing the Internet isn't limited, because the love and sympathy for Brotzman clearly requires infinite space.

Logical fans know Brotzman didn't blow the Nevada game by himself any more than Zendejas's missed point-after attempts single-handedly cost Arizona bragging rights. Here is where they differ: Boise State's loss produced all sorts of lasting aftershocks. More than sending bettors into apoplectic shock and shutting up obnoxious alumni, the Wildcats' defeat merely proved, again, that the bowl system is out of whack.

Arizona is still bowl-bound, despite losing its fourth consecutive game after opening the season 7-1 and dropping to 4-5 in the Pac-10 (7-5 overall). Arizona State, also 4-5 in the Pac-10 and 6-6 overall, has applied to the NCAA for a bowl waiver even though rules say a team that has played two Football Championship Subdivision opponents needs seven wins to be deemed bowl-worthy. The Sun Devils argue it wasn't their fault San Jose State dropped ASU so it could play at flush Wisconsin, leaving Portland State the only fill-in option.

So sure, if Zendejas had nailed just one extra-point attempt, college football fans would have one less reason to gouge out their eyes. Twice his kicks went low, and twice they were blocked by ASU's James Brooks, a set of coincidences that will never again happen in this lifetime. A successful PAT would have given the Wildcats the lead with 27 seconds left in regulation; a good PAT would have tied the game at the end of the second overtime.

A gut check by Arizona coach Mike Stoops might have made the entire ordeal moot.

"I wanted to go for two (points at the end of the second overtime)," Stoops said, bizarrely, after the game. "I should've gone with my gut and stuck with it. And that's my fault. I just had the feeling to go for two."

So why in the name of Dick Tomey didn't Stoops follow his heart? Temporary amnesia? Brain fog caused by the ASU band's menacing Darth Vader tunes? A persuasive assistant coach whispering in his ear? "Just didn't make the call," Stoops replied.

And then he said, "Life has a way of evening out," and though he was referring to the nuts and bolts that defined one of the wackiest games in the rivals' long and colorful history, Stoops' words later took on a whole new meaning.

Because like dandelions in a field that had been overrun by vermin and dirt, there sprang good and decency to counteract the ugliness. Up popped a Facebook page labeled, "The Wildcat Nation Loves Alex Zendejas." Here came a group called, "We still love Alex Zendejas! KEEP YOUR HEAD UP! Still Wildcat Family!!!"

Maybe society isn't quite yet doomed.