There was a football game played on Saturday, but I’d rather not talk about it.
It’s kind of embarrassing, really, but when it comes to unfortunate results in the sporting events that I care about I take a child-like, total ostrich approach. I go into full avoidance mode. I don’t read about it, I don’t want to see anything about it, and when people start to talk to me about it I feel like putting my fingers in my ears and saying “blah, blah, blah” until they go away and leave me to my sports solitude.
It’s embarrassing behavior, because it’s juvenile. An adult should be able to cope with a sports team loss, reading the different analyses of the game, listening to the pundits explain why things went sour, and so on.
I guess I’m just not an adult. I still lose sleep over the bad losses and feel crushed by the dashed expectations. If I go into full avoidance mode, at least I can prevent the news reports from exacerbating my distress.
So I’ve got my head in the sand for a few days. The fact that Thanksgiving is this week will help — not because giving thanks for good fortune puts a sports loss into its proper perspective, which should be the case, but because a holiday always is a point of focus that makes things that happened before the holiday seem remote. It’s the calendar equivalent of sticking your fingers in your ears and going “lah, lah, lah.”