I’m a fool. An absolutely persistent, outright masochistic fool.
In other words, I’m a sports fan.
The word “fool” means the same thing as “sports fan,” really. And there I sat, on my couch, in the second week of May, befuddled at a sporting event. Again. How foolish.
You see, I’m from a region of the country that hasn’t had sports joy in my 20-year life — meaning my springtimes get ruined more than someone that lives 100 miles northwest of me. Sports are weird in that way.
But my team, the Washington Capitals, have let me down once again. I’m pissed, aggravated and looking up synonyms for just how sad and depressed I am. The Capitals played the Pittsburgh Penguins in the second round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Game 7 was an unmitigated disaster. The Caps lost. But that’s not what this is about.
The Capitals have played the Penguins in 10 playoff series in the last 26 years. The Capitals have won exactly one time. It was stupid for me to think something else would happen. That’s literally the definition of insanity.
Yet my Twitter feed, typically consisting of whatever stupid thing comes to my head, actually showed my belief from December until tonight. I said it was The Year. I said the Capitals weren’t going to lose.
How foolish.
But really, I had no other choice. It’s what sports are about. It’s why an entire city turned into a puddle of tears when LeBron put the city of Cleveland on his back to a title to break the title-less streak. It’s why fans took to the streets when the Cubs actually won the World Series.
Sports can be a cruel mistress that way. It’s also why we keep coming back. We’re all aware of the deal that we make each and every year — you bet on pure and unbridled joy, wagering agony along the away.
It’s not complicated to explain why people sat at a Cleveland bar for 12 hours to watch a basketball team win a title. It’s why the previous sports editor of this paper made it a point to stop on his trip to England to watch his soccer team in person for the first time. Sports are why we hope, really.
I guess hope is a funny word to use though, considering my life philosophy more or less aligns with Albert Camus at the moment. But hoping makes us feel. As sports fans, we’re a part of something that few can really put into words. It may be easy for some to say “Don’t care anymore!” or “Why do you even watch?”
Maybe they’re the fools.
I was excited. I was hopeful. Then I was utterly miserable. In a lot of ways, I, the most average of college students, was the example of every sports fan ever.
The Capitals have made me feel unbridled joy and incomparable sadness for the last 10 years of my life. But the important part, I guess, is that I had that feeling — if even for a fleeting round, or hour, or even second. I feel like everything sucks right now, that the joy that those fans that live some 100 miles north of me should be mine.
Ask me in person; I will always tell you that I deserve a parade more than anyone. It's my turn to see my city come together to cheer our team on. I’m selfish in that way.
But it’s not just me. Sports fans are an interesting group of people. Each year deserves to be our year, even though the odds are at least 30-to-1 each year. I think that deep down, we’d rather be mad that our team lost, or that they blew a draft pick, or that they fired a coach than feel nothing toward our beloved group of losers at all.
Who knows? Maybe it'll be alright in the end. Or maybe we’re just damn fools.
