A wee bit of pain
- by kanadalainen - post apocalyptic era, 2 AC (after cup)
Hypothesis
The CFL game is a sketchy cast-iron pitiless slattern to freely offer one's lifelong commitment, to hold tight, to (with wanton disregard for one's blood pressure) pin one's dreams to - a capricious and uncaring acquaintance. You may flirt with such a creature at your own peril. This is not a relationship that bards sing about, its the lamentation of the common fan, le petit pauvre.
And, case in point:
The final minute and 40 nearly killed me. Well ok the final 45 seconds almost killed me. The bombers led the game, *had* the game, it was right there. I couldn't sit down and watch - I was pacing. I was hoping that the bombers would stack the secondary, but
que sera sera, ita fiat esto.
This is a bitter way to go out after such a loaded season. Lots of good memories...on to next year. In the aftermath (and no, I can't read about it or subject myself to the media onslaught) one merely stares into the void seeking a smidgen of logic, hope, a bit of magic - and sometimes there is none, there is only stark reality.
Concluding remarks and summary
Quid esta veritas? Answer - somehow, as I find myself tapping out this note, I'm not actually dead, but simply am the embodiment of a sort of temporary stasis of the soul - but nonetheless:
I'm ride or die with the BB which is not the healthiest option. I can't be calm so here we are, composing soliloquies to express grief, and agonize a wee bit.
(sometimes you've got to laugh at the vagarity of sports)
Figure 1. Actual CFL fans glued to their horses.