Was that it?

Was that the last time Blake Wilshusen pulled on his barbecue-stained Philip Rivers jersey and met brothers Chad and Ryan to guzzle a few drinks at McGregor’s Grill & Ale House?

Was that the last time Mission Valley’s Krista Newquist parked under a television to watch the San Diego Chargers and tell the story of her ex-husband who loved the Bolts so much that he cried when they lost?

Was that the last time talented radio voice Josh Lewin ceded the airwaves so fans could hum a few bars of the corny but connecting ditty “San Diego Super Chargers”?


Complete coverage: Broncos 27, Chargers 20

Was the 27-20 loss Sunday at Denver the end? Has San Diego lost its Chargers — for now and possibly forever?

That’s the aggravating, confusing, saddening, unnerving lot of it all. No one knows. Life in the modern day NFL means billion-dollar stadiums and back-door deals. It means even the most loyal of fans feel powerless to do anything other than reach for the antacids.

A season from now, the Chargers could be reduced to a memory, a faint whiff in the wind for the first time since 1961. The team could live of hours away in suburban Los Angeles, but a universe away to this community’s hearts and face-painting souls.

David Agranoff, an author and special education teacher in Ocean Beach, co-founded the fan group Save Our Bolts.


More than 100 fans from the group gathered at Chargers Park an hour before the team was scheduled to return home, holding signs and swapping stories as cars driving by honked support.

The 41-year-old Agranoff wasn’t a sports fan until he moved from Indiana to San Diego in 2002. Mr. End Zone, LaDainian Tomlinson, hooked him — and the team never let go. The Chargers offered him a sense of place. It provided roots. It gifted him release.

“They’re my escape,” he said. “As a writer, I can’t always sit and relax during a movie or reading a book. My writer brain kicks on. The only time I really relax and half fun was when I watched the Chargers. Every Sunday, it gets my mind off things.

“The toughest part is that you can’t say, ‘We’ll get ’em next year’ because we’re not guaranteed next year.”


Wilshusen considered leaving behind his Rivers jersey that bore the sweet stains of game-munching past. He decided, though, that the day demanded it — so he dug through the dirty clothes basket to prepare for kickoff against the Broncos.

As the teams see-sawed into the lead Sunday, he explained how a sports teams can signify something more.

SAN DIEGO, CA, JANUARY 3, 2016: ..Chargers fans at McGregor’s Grill & Ale House react to the Chargers scoring a touchdown in the 2nd half against the Denver Broncos. ...(Nelvin C. Cepeda / San Diego Union-Tribune) (Nelvin C. Cepeda)

Teams bind. Allegiances unify. Games create chances to smile and scream and relate.


“If we didn’t have the Chargers,” Wilshusen said, “would I be getting together with my brothers and friends today? Maybe not.”

Meanwhile, San Diego life rolled on. The thwack of tennis balls pierced a sunny afternoon near Mission Bay Park. The low roar of waves furnished a soundtrack for the city’s coastline as surfers bobbed in the blue.

Some of San Diego will be inconsolable if the Chargers leave. Some of the city, though, will yawn. When a place is built with so much transplant brick and mortar, in a place with activities galore, measuring how broadly this NFL situation ripples is difficult.

There’s no doubt, however, that the Chargers created more memories for more people than we can count.


Carlos Garcia watched what could have been the franchise’s TV eulogy some 1,100 miles away with a group of friends who’ve met at McGregor’s for 11 seasons. Garcia, formerly in the Army, used to pry his eyelids open to watch the Bolts at 2 a.m. when he was stationed in Germany.

“I hate to see them go, but you can’t control that,” he said. “I’m torn. I understand it’s a business, but something could have been done. Now it’s probably too late.”

Garica laughed when explained when he discussed his last tailgating memory from Qualcomm Stadium, a mere six-tenths of a mile away.

“I came out from a game and someone stole the cooler out of the back of my truck,” he said. “I guess they really needed some beer.”


That’s the thing with these Chargers, San Diego’s sporting heroes and heartbreakers wrapped into one. All the moments they generated fanned the fulfillment — minor crimes and all.

The game on Sunday ended and a forgettable 4-12 season ended with it. Post-game radio coverage told listeners that the Chargers’ loss secured a No. 3 pick in the next NFL Draft. It sparked another question: Will we care?

“Let’s put it this way: This franchise has a long history of of getting to the goal line and not getting the ball in,” said Agranoff, the author and Bolts activist. “Just because (owner Dean) Spanos wants it to happen doesn’t mean it will happen.

“But If they go to L.A., I’m a free agent. I’m not going to root for the Carson Toxic Avengers or whatever they’re going to be called. I might be done with the NFL forever. I don’t want to deal with the stress if it’s not for my community.”


On a bar stool at McGregor’s, 26-year season ticket holder Ken Hadley explained the pure joy of standing on the medians along Garnet Avenue in Pacific Beach when the Chargers held off the Steelers in 1995 to qualify for the Super Bowl.

Fans high-fived strangers through car windows as horns blared.

Then the happiness vanished from his face.

“I’m pissed,” he said. “I think Dean Spanos is a coward to not come out and address the fans this season. That’s just how I feel. I’ll never go to a game in L.A.”


Denver picked up a game-sealing first down Sunday and milked the clock. There would be no happy end for San Diego this day. It seemed painfully apropos.

Wilshusen paused, however, to provide a city some soothing perspective.

“You’ve got to enjoy it while you can, right?”

bryce.miller@sduniontribune.com