All my songs will be in minor for the night.
My eyes weary from 15 years of hopes dashed by a distance of 5 yards.
5 yards the difference between excitement and lament.
Between Queen and The Smiths playing through the speakers.
This is all arbitrary, I know; I can view the sports world from a large enough distance to recognize that.
It still sucks.
It’s like having to throw away your favorite childhood toy, it makes no difference in your life, but in a small way it does.
I suppose things take on the emotions that we attribute to them.
Houses, cars, clothes, and sports, they all exist in a sort of neutral form; what we think of them dependent on the experiences we go through with them.
They provide the setting to the ups and downs of life and, at times, can even invade the narrative at times.
In sports we cling to narratives, some giving us hope (the Olympics are chock-full of these), others causing us despair (Lance Armstrong).
The David vs. Goliath stories capture us, while we root against those we perceive to be “bad” people.
We really don’t have any good clue on who’s good and who’s bad, but it adds to the narrative; adding to the emotional weight of each pass or score.
In the end, it really is just the background. Part of the setting that our culture (and a lot of others) deems important.
The season is over and at this point it’s weird. It’s almost exhausting to think of having to do this again next year. As a fan, I don’t want to have to face another loss in another game like this. I can’t think of anything else to compare it to.
I’m sure come September, I’ll be all ready to go, but the finality of this game is deadening. The narrative has run dry; stopped 5 yards too short. It’s ready to go into the metaphorical box in the attic with 15 other years of memories, only to be looked at during nostalgic binges.
I guess this is a letter goodbye to this season. The credits are rolling and Andy has just handed over Woody, never to see him again.