I didn’t sleep all that great the other night. I tossed and turned and I couldn’t shut off my brain. Want to know why? Because I was at the goddamned Timbers game the night before. It was a semi finals game. It was an nail biting, hard-played game. It was amazing and gut wrenching. It ended in a draw, both teams scoring 3 points each. The Timbers deserved the win, but they lost the semi finals because Vancouver beat them last week when they played way up in Canada. Canada! Damn Canadians!
That means last night was the end of the season for the Timbers, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m sort of glad it’s over. I couldn’t take it anymore. I like the game. I like the team. I like the culture. I love this town. I think amongst my friends, I am the first to jump out of my seat to make embarrassing squealy noises when it looks like the Timbers will score. And I don’t even know what I am looking at.
But for crapping out loud, I could not take another game. I can’t handle the pressure. I’m not athletic or even vaguely sporting. Trying to sleep after watching a soccer match exacerbates my restless leg syndrome. And then, being naturally anxious, all the house lights go up in my brain, I’m fully awake, and all of a sudden, I’m worried that the weight of my books are too heavy and are going to make my bookshelf collapse before morning.
I can relax and enjoy a game if there’s no chance of winning. Likewise, I can enjoy a game if there is little chance of losing. Either or. Not both. So therefore, I can’t see how I could ever be a good sports fan. I’m okay with that.
Until next season.