Sports is the blanket we toss over the tattered couches of our lives. And so, on a day like today, the couch seems even more threadbare than it may really be. It rankles to have such a disproportionately unimportant aspect of one's life induce such pain and catatonia, but, really, it's all part of a cycle: It's that one can't derive joy from even the minor aspects of one's life that leads to an overbearing focus on the problematic major components. That my life would be much as it is if Kevin Riley had had the good sense to fling the ball out of bounds is so obvious that I resent an outsider bringing it up. To not acknowledge this reality would be a sign of near-incomprehensible stupidity.
I hurt not because I don't know how much sports is immaterial to my life but because I know it all too well. And, in this way, the failure becomes my own. -- Joe Eskenazi