The agony

We wear our football jerseys and climb up to our seats for the pre-game show. Last week’s loss on the road was hard to swallow, but this week should not be the same. The home team strikes first, but we’re tied at halftime. Our team is inconsistent and predictable, and the opponent is not struggling to contain them. In the second half, the visitors score again and again, while our boys rack up turnovers and can’t get a first down. The crowd around us grows hostile. They scream that they want the back-up quarterback and the coach is a liar. We can’t bring ourselves heckle our own men, even though we’re unhappy with the decisions on the field. Instead, we sit, tense and silent, hoping against hope that the team will prove the jeers wrong. Then, we throw an interception late in the game. Another touchdown. The tiny contingent of traveling fans in the far corner of the visitors’ stands is going wild with excitement. The game is as good as over. We leave early to beat the crowd, and we slump down the stairs. The walk to the car is brisk with frustration. Twenty-four uncontested points. Oh, it hurts.