I’ve written three books in the last twelve months. There’s a sentence I never expected to write!
But somewhere in the middle of the third one, a book about what it’s like to stay a Dallas Cowboys fan through thirty years of disappointment, I noticed something I’d never really thought about.
Maybe equals hope.
The third book is called This Is Our Year™! The Delusional Life of Being a Dallas Cowboys Fan. My friend William Roberts and I wrote it for the homers and the haters alike.
Somewhere around the final chapter, I noticed how often I kept reaching for one word.
Maybe.
Maybe the defense improves. Maybe the new coordinator figures it out. Maybe some of the draft picks hit. Maybe Schottenheimer is better in Year Two. Maybe Dak stays healthy. Maybe Jerry Jones actually knows what he’s doing.
Okay, okay. That last one is pushing it.
But still. Maybe.
It’s a strange little word. It doesn’t promise anything is going to happen. It doesn’t even suggest it’s likely. It just says something could happen.
Apparently that’s enough.
College football is underway. The NFL season is about to start. And right now, before a single game counts against anyone, every fan base in America gets to hold the same drug at the same time.
Possibility.
Nobody is 4 – 12 yet. Nobody has been eliminated. Nobody has watched the season-ending interception or handed someone else the trophy.
Right now, almost everybody gets to say it.
Maybe this is our year.
Are we delusional? Probably. I have thirty years of Cowboys evidence that says I should know better by now.
But hope has never needed strong evidence. It just needs a maybe.
There’s a scene in Dumb and Dumber that might be the best explanation of sports fandom ever put on film. Lloyd Christmas asks Mary what his odds are of ending up with a girl like her. She tells him one in a million.
Lloyd lights up.
“So you’re telling me there’s a chance.”
That’s every sports fan. That’s every Cowboys fan. Give us a number so small it should end the conversation, and we’ll build an entire season on it anyway.
I hadn’t thought about the word maybe itself in years, until I remembered my kids using it.
“Dad, can we go?”
Maybe.
“Can I have it?”
Maybe.
Their faces would change instantly. Not a yes. Not a no. Still a chance.
My kids haven’t hung on that word in fifteen years. But I remember exactly what it did to them.
Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, I think our relationship with maybe changes. We stop wanting a chance and start wanting a guarantee. We want the forecast, the plan, the certainty before we let ourselves invest.
Careers don’t offer that. Neither do businesses. Neither does putting a book into the world and waiting to find out if anyone reads it.
You do the work without knowing what happens next.
Maybe people read it. Maybe it opens a door you didn’t know was there. Maybe the thing you’ve been carrying around for years turns into something bigger. Maybe the effort is already working and you just can’t see it yet.
Maybe isn’t uncertainty’s weak cousin. Maybe is what keeps uncertainty from turning into hopelessness. It leaves the door cracked. It says the story isn’t finished. It says what happened before doesn’t get the final word on what happens next.
Maybe that’s delusional. Maybe Lloyd Christmas understood something the rest of us didn’t. Maybe sports fans, especially Cowboys fans, aren’t quite as crazy as we look.
Okay. We are probably exactly as crazy as we look. Delusional in fact! Lol
But another season is starting, and every fan gets to believe for a little while. Thirty years of disappointment doesn’t get to decide what happens in Year 31.
Not yet.
Maybe.
And right now, that’s enough.
FAQ
What does “maybe equals hope” mean? It’s the idea that the word “maybe” doesn’t promise an outcome, it just keeps one possible. That small opening, rather than a guarantee, is where hope actually lives.
What is the book This Is Our Year! about? This Is Our Year! The Delusional Life of Being a Dallas Cowboys Fan is a book Knox Keith co-wrote with William Roberts about the experience of staying a loyal Dallas Cowboys fan through decades of near-misses and disappointment, written for both diehards and skeptics.
What does the Dumb and Dumber reference have to do with sports fandom? Lloyd Christmas’s line, “so you’re telling me there’s a chance,” captures how fans respond to long odds. A one-in-a-million shot doesn’t discourage fans, it gives them exactly enough room to hope.
Why does this idea matter beyond football? The same pattern shows up in careers, businesses, and creative work. Certainty is rarely available before you commit. Maybe is often the only honest starting point.
