And yet, and yet... some of the greatest highs of my life have come courtesy of the New York Mets, the New York Giants, and (a long time ago, in an era far far away) the New York Jets. And losses by those same teams have been known to send me deep into the slough of despond. Truth be told, a really bad loss by one of my teams has been known to depress me far more than some of the times I've lost a Hugo, a Nebula, or an Emmy. I've learned to shrug off my own defeats in life... but when Big Blue or the Amazin's or Gang Green go down, well...
Thursday night was a punch in the gut. Yesterday afternoon was another.
A loss for the Jets, a loss for the Giants. But not just any losses. BAD losses. The kind that really hurt. My guys should have won both games.
The victories were right there for the taking. So close I could taste them. But no, instead I had to choke down bitter defeats. What's worse, both teams lost the games in THE SAME WAY, with truly inexplicable play-calling when the game was on the line. Deep inside the opponents' territory, the goal line just a few feet ahead, the clock running down... all the Jets needed to do, all the G-Men needed to do, was RUN RUN RUN the ball, wind down the clock, make the opponent burn his final timeouts, then kick the winning field goal or score the winning touchdown.
Instead both the Jets and Giants chose to pass, pass, pass. Incompletions stopped the clock. The Jets did not manage to score at all, the Giants settled for a FG and a lead but left too much time for Tom Brady.
I guess they couldn't hear me screaming at my TV set.
Life is miserable and full of pain.
(I am not feeling good about the chances of either team going forward. Some losses can be shrugged off, while others do more lasting damage, and can send the team into the tailspin for weeks. This week's losses, I fear, are of that sort. The Giants, in particular, are going to have a hard time getting over what happened yesterday).
((I am also seriously despondent about Victor Cruz needing another season-ending surgery. A great player, and one of my favorite Giants. I've been looking forward to seeing him and Odell Beckham Junior on the field at the same time for more than a year. Now it seems that may never happen. Really sucks. Cruz seems a good guy, and he deserved better. The football gods are cruel).
- Current Location:slough of despond
- Current Mood:
crushed
Comments
I'd have a LOT more sympathy for my favorite author if he hadn't trolled me about one of the most painful moment(s) of my life.. in my favorite series ever ;) #conflicted
he's a heartless Pats fan, though.
(as a transplanted Syracusan, i have less of an affinity for the Pats.)
I'm a Saints fan. In Australia.
Which means I get up at 3 or 4am to watch my bipolar team and never know what to expect.
Best a rampaging 6-0 Atlanta team? Check.
Lose to the Tennessee Titans with a new coach and rookie QB at home?
Check.
It's a very stressful way to start the week.
Not sure which is more deflating...The blow-out losses or the close ones (or the Patriots).
My pathetic Lions beat the Packers at Lambeau for the first time since 1991, but tried so desperately to give the game away at the end that it felt less like a victory and more like a stayed execution. The Lions have sucked so badly, for so long, that even a win doesn't feel good anymore.
If the Pats had started with a minute left, they pretty obviously would have run the last drive differently. The biggest problem was lack of execution (Beckham and Landon Collins not holding on to the ball).
And giving Brady thirty second less is not to be sneered at.
I thought you were going to talk about the recent events in Paris with this title.
I know that you are far away and no arm is meant but the title and the content is a bit, hum, i don't know...
Anyway, greatings from France and thank you for all your work ! Love it! Good Literrature in these dark times is most welcome and sure does help minds to evade and grow!
Cheers
Manon
I was at game six in '86, with great seats, close enough to see the seams on the ball as it rolled between Buckner's legs. A moment of ecstacy like few I have ever experienced.
Dashed hopes are like candy to the football gods.
Admittedly that goal line pick by Butler would have hurrrt though.
A friend and I developed a theory that many of the darker events you write line up with depressing performances by the Jets (ie the Red Wedding kind of lines up with Testaverde rupturing his Achilles, but then the Mets won the NLDS so you celebrated with a Purple Wedding). Needless to say we are terrified of what you wrote on November 22, 2012.
Try being a fan of the Scottish International soccer team.
It hurts.
(Love your work though, keep it up)!!
Cheers!!!