Viewpoint: In 1975, I Gave Up on the Detroit Lions. They’re Winning Now, and I Don’t Understand.

As I sit here, watching the Detroit Lions finally rise to prominence after decades of frustration, I’m caught between nostalgia and disbelief. It’s hard to reconcile the excitement of the present with the haunting memories of disappointment and defeat that have followed me throughout my life as a fan of this team. In 1975, I gave up on the Lions. I just couldn’t take it anymore—the years of mediocrity, the near-misses, the underachieving roster, and the broken promises of hope that they would one day return to glory. And now, somehow, they’re winning. But I’m not sure how to feel about it. How can a team that has been so thoroughly disappointing for so long suddenly find success?

The Long, Slow Decline:

My relationship with the Detroit Lions began in the early 1960s, when I was a young, hopeful fan. The Lions had just experienced a golden era, with stars like Barry Sanders, Herman Moore, and Calvin Johnson to come, but at the time, they were still fresh off an NFL championship in 1957. As a child, I’d see flashes of greatness, especially in the legendary running back and Hall of Famer, Barry Sanders, who could make defenders look like fools with his mesmerizing moves. But even then, the signs of decline were already evident.

In the early 1970s, the Lions’ performance began to slide. From a team that once boasted league championships, we now found ourselves trapped in the cycles of mediocrity. Detroit never seemed to be able to put together a sustained run of success. They were always good enough to stay relevant but never good enough to truly challenge for an NFL title. The defensive line would struggle, quarterbacks would be inconsistent, and the offense could never seem to click in a meaningful way. No matter how much talent would be brought in, it felt like something was always off.

By 1975, it had become clear that the Lions were not a team that could contend for championships anymore. The roster had its flashes of brilliance—players like Lem Barney, a dynamic cornerback, and Greg Landry, the quarterback who could play brilliantly at times—but there was no overarching strategy, no unifying identity that could bring the team back to its former glory. They hovered in the middle of the pack, which was the most frustrating position to be in.

By the end of the 1975 season, when the Lions went 7-6-1 under head coach Rick Forzano, I had enough. It was as if the team’s ceiling was always defined by that level of mediocrity. No matter how many times they teased us with hope, no matter how much promise each season seemed to hold at the start, they could never seem to break through. I swore off the Lions at that point, vowing to never waste another ounce of energy on a team that could never seem to fulfill its potential.

The Years of Pain and Patience:

Since that fateful decision in 1975, I’ve watched from a distance as the Lions continued to wallow in disappointment. There have been some high points along the way, such as playoff appearances in the early 1990s, most notably in 1991 when the Lions made it to the NFC Championship Game before losing to Washington. Yet, these bright spots were always overshadowed by more seasons of underachievement and failure. Year after year, the same cycle played out: hope for improvement, followed by mediocrity or collapse.

The 1990s brought about the peak of optimism with the electric play of Barry Sanders, but even that brilliance could not lift the team beyond a certain point. Sanders was an absolute joy to watch, but despite his legendary career, the Lions failed to build a team around him that could compete at a championship level. This was perhaps the clearest sign that the Lions, as an organization, were stuck in a rut they couldn’t escape.

The 2000s and 2010s were particularly painful years for the Lions. The franchise became a punchline, a symbol of ineptitude in the NFL. There were terrible draft decisions, coaching changes that never seemed to yield results, and far too many seasons of futility. The Matt Millen era, where the Lions were famous for its disastrous draft picks, is often cited as one of the darkest chapters in NFL history. It was almost as if the universe had decided that the Lions were cursed, and that no matter what they did, they would never rise above the lowest rungs of NFL success.

In 2008, the Lions achieved the ultimate low: a winless season. The team went 0-16, cementing their place in history as one of the worst teams ever to take the field. At that point, the idea of the Lions ever winning again—let alone contending for a Super Bowl—seemed laughable. It was the nadir of a franchise that had been defined by failure and heartbreak for decades.

The Unexpected Turnaround:

So here we are in 2025. The Detroit Lions, the team I swore off in 1975, are suddenly playing like one of the most exciting teams in the NFL. They’re winning, and not just winning—competing with the best teams in the league, and doing so with style and substance. There are no longer the questions of whether they’ll make the playoffs—now, it’s a matter of how far they can go.

How did this happen?

There’s no simple answer. It wasn’t one magic draft pick, one lucky free-agent signing, or one coaching change that turned the Lions around. It was a long, slow, and painful rebuild. They got serious about developing talent through the draft, putting in place a front office that prioritized smart, sustainable decisions. There was an emphasis on building through the trenches, with a defense that can stop opponents and an offensive line that creates lanes for the running back. The hiring of a coach like Dan Campbell—someone who instilled a culture of toughness and a clear identity—made all the difference.

But perhaps more than anything, the rise of quarterback Jared Goff has been the key. After years of instability at the quarterback position, Goff brought a steady, capable presence to the team, leading them with confidence and poise. His connection with wide receiver Amon-Ra St. Brown, among other talented players, has given the Lions a dynamic offense that is capable of scoring on anyone. The Lions aren’t just scraping by anymore—they’re a team with real depth and real talent.

The Dissonance of Success:

But even with all the excitement and success, I find myself conflicted. There’s a part of me that doesn’t quite know how to embrace it. It’s not because I don’t want them to win, but because it feels surreal after so many years of struggle. The Lions were supposed to be the team that would always disappoint, the team that could never get over the hump. And yet, here they are, competing for titles and winning with a consistency that I never thought I would see in my lifetime.

I find myself almost waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve been conditioned by decades of failure to expect disappointment, and it’s difficult to shake that mindset. I can’t help but wonder if the Lions are simply teasing us again, luring us in with false hope before inevitably falling short. It’s a learned skepticism that comes with years of fandom, especially with a team like the Lions that has been perpetually stuck in the cycle of disappointment.

The Joy of Redemption:

But despite my skepticism, I can’t help but feel a surge of excitement every time the Lions take the field now. It’s hard to ignore the fact that this team is genuinely talented, and they have the potential to be a Super Bowl contender. It’s a reminder of what it feels like to have hope again. To see this team, after so many years of mediocrity, finally playing up to its potential is a beautiful thing.

It’s also a testament to the resilience of the Lions’ fanbase. Through all the lows, we stuck with them. For every heartbreaking loss, there was a fan still cheering in the stands, still buying tickets, still hoping for the next season to be the one where it all clicks. Now, as the team begins to deliver, we can finally share in the joy of their success. It’s a reminder that sometimes, patience does pay off, even when it feels like it never will.

Conclusion:

In 1975, I gave up on the Detroit Lions. I couldn’t see a path to redemption for a franchise that had become synonymous with failure. But now, as I watch them win, I’m reminded of something important: the Lions, like any sports team, are always evolving. They are a reflection of the highs and lows of life itself—sometimes you have to go through the darkest times before you can see the light.