Being a sportsfan isn't easy. I mean....really and truly being a fan....where your heart is involved, and your emotions are tied together to the players, the games, and the outcome. This goes beyond an appreciation for the sport, an enjoyment in watching the games, or the ability to speculate in depth what may or may not happen and the reasons why. This is about just purely and completely LOVING a team.
What a rush.
We have the season of our lives, win the division titles by a long shot, and enter playoff season with all the analysts (and the psychics!!) saying that this is our year.
What a rush.
And then we win the first THREE GAMES OF THE SERIES...against our archrival Chicago Blackhawks.
What a rush.
And then...we shit the bed.
Not once. But twice.
And, so, on Sunday, I couldn't believe we were even going into Game 6. This series should've been wrapped up in Game 4. We were actually going to blow a 3 game lead, and give this series away to the Blackhawks yet again. My mind went into negative angry defense mode before the game even started.
We watched it sitting underneath a tarp with a propane heater directed at us and a TV that extended itself from the outside of a motorhome in a campground in Birch Bay, Washington. It was a rollercoaster ride throughout and I realize now that in order to protect my emotional self at some point that day, I shut off. Sometime in the third period, after a few ups and downs, when the score was tied again, I got angry. In my head, I was muttering, "You Fuckers" and setting up my wall of defenses...preparing for the worst.
If I hate them, I can't love them, and if I don't love them, I won't be hurt by them. Simple.
When Chicago scored in overtime on Sunday, I screamed "NNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" through the depressive rainy campground and "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME???!!!!!!!!" and then "NNNNNOOOOOOOO!!!!!" again. I was seriously wounded. I felt bitter and I hated them.
I couldn't bring myself to wear my Canucks shirt yesterday. I didn't want to talk about it. I couldn't deal with it. I admired and respected the fans that I saw who were wearing their jerseys; the fans that still had hope and were excited and positive about the big game last night. I admired them and knew that we needed them and their energy, yet I couldn't talk about the game and I certainly couldn't share in their excitement.
How could I possibly manage to watch Game 7 while still supporting the team and remaining hopeful that we would win; thereby leaving my heart and feelings wide open to be trampled all over??
Only one solution really...
Ativan, that's how.
Now, I'm not proud that I required an Ativan to help me relax. I paced around the house for the 1st period; screamed, danced and screamed some more when Burrows scored that first goal. By the time the 2nd period hit, the sedative had also hit and, with a one goal advantage, I actually felt able to sit down and enjoy the game.
But, even the sleepy relaxed state that had settled over me wasn't enough to help me through the overtime period after Chicago tied the game up with just a minute or two to spare in the third. I got up and went back to roaming the house and folding the laundry, and pretending that I didn't give a shit.
And then celebrated my ass off when we scored!!!!!!!
Truly invested again, I let myself feel every celebratory second of this win. Well... as much as the Ativan would permit me to feel, that is. :o)
I'm back to wearing my Canucks shirt today; relaxed and ready for Round Two, boys!
At least for the time being.