That's the word that I think best describes all of the bad feelings that came along with that horrible weekend of sports: hurt. There's anger, sure, and embarrassment and shock and denial, all that stuff. But hurt seems to be the most prevalent feeling and emotion.
Hurt because I watched just about every Rangers game since early August; and I kept up with every Rangers game that I didn't get to watch, all season long. I put lots of time and energy into going to games and keeping tabs on Rangers' news and happenings. The Rangers players became sort of like family, as I knew what was happening to them and saw them virtually everyday. Of course, all of this goes back for almost thirty years. I have been a fan of every Rangers team for as long as I can remember.
All the while, I have dreamed of a championship. Dreamed but never really expected it to happen. Then there it was. We had it. It was ours. It was so much ours that Twitter-land and Facebook-land and, for that matter, all of internet-land had already proclaimed the World Series trophy to be ours. Then it wasn't. Then it was again, one inning later. Then it wasn't. Then it really wasn't in the 11th inning.
Sure, there was a Game 7. But after the collapse of Game 6, we never really had a chance. That's why I had to turn it off in the fifth inning of Game 7. Just couldn't bear to watch it anymore. Why? I guess it hurt too much.
So what do you do now? After a season of being so close, so attuned to everything that happened with a sports team. After being so stinkin' close to a championship that it was basically already ours only to have it stolen away at the last possible second? Many people, it has been reported, have given up. Not only on the Rangers but all of sports. And that is totally understandable and really doesn't seem like all that bad of an idea. Because this hurt is too deep, too painful.
But for me, I have to keep on keeping on. A wise man once told me that the pain of losing is a far greater feeling/emotion than the joy of winning. That was told to me after watching the Braves fall apart and lose a playoff game and a playoff series at the same time. The Braves have become my adopted NL team. And it hurt at the time, when they lost. But this . . . this Rangers collapse is just ridiculous. And that wise man is right: the pain of losing, especially this way, must be a feeling that is much stronger than what I would feel if Nellie would have made that catch in the 9th inning . . . or if Feldman could have just gotten one more strike in the 10th. The joy of winning it all would have been great. But this pain from the collapse is a much more intense feeling.
I have to keep on keeping on because sports really is the ultimate reality show. Sports mirrors life in so many ways. And now I understand that it can really help us cope with life in ways that are really profound. That's because this is life. Things go good, things go bad. Just when it seems that something incredibly good might happen, it's snatched right away from us . . . and vice versa.
There are other lessons to learn from this season, too. For many people, myself most definitely included, they invested too much of themselves in the Rangers. Sports is good-but I need to balance my love for it and passion for it. It needs to be kept in check. That's tough when your team is having such a good year. And there's nothing wrong with rooting for them and getting behind them. But it needs to be kept in balance. If that doesn't happen, your life can be completely shaken when your team seems to fail you. Sports teams are made up of people, doing their best (or at least we hope they are)--nothing more, nothing less. Sports is supposed to be entertainment. When taken too seriously, sports becomes something that it shouldn't be.
So, we move on. I'm already wondering what will happen for next year: Will we keep C.J.? (I hope not.) Will we sign C.C.? We move on because . . . well because that's really all we can do, no matter how much it hurts.
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