I shouldn’t be allowed to watch sports. I was already in somewhat of a fragile state going into the game. Then Jimmer Fredette and his magic mormom underwear ruined any hope that I would get through the day without crying, I might as well pop in my DVD of “The Blind Side,” get some cookie dough and just cry myself to sleep.
I realize women are burdened with hormonal cycles that they feel are unfair, but for the most part, they don’t actually hurt when a sports team loses. I don’t mean feel bad, or feel let down, I mean hurt, like your dog just died kinda hurt. And this happens to me more than monthly, probably twice a week. I was already burdened with the NFL, the NBA, Golf, College football, with side orders of basebal, hockey, and a few other sports that come in phases. Olympic years are especially hard. I’ve fended off soccer and college basketball for years, but SDSU got me sucked in, and I’ll probably never be the same and I didn’t have the emotional space available for another sport to break my heart repeatedly. For the love of pete, I’ve been a Cleveland Browns fan for almost 30 years, have I not suffered enough?
My apologies for getting everyone all excited, I told myself I wouldn’t drink the pain away. But it’s not going away on it’s own, so without further adieu, cheers!
