>The Bills Make me Wanna Pout

>The better part of my day was spent trying to decide what to do next. I can’t go on like this – it’s unhealthy. Yet, I’m addicted to a stigma that has become an addiction … walking away from it all is not an option. It’s like heroin, this sugary poison, and it’s in my blood, pumping through my veins, driving my heart and making me mad.

I’m not talking about a romantic-turned-abusive relationship here, one involving one party beating the crap out of another but the victim can’t walk away because it’s become such a common place that he or she couldn‘t imagine life without it. I’m talking about football.

Last night … when the Bills lost 56-10 to New England … was easily the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life . A friend asked me this afternoon if I honestly expected the Bills to win the game. In fear of sounding stupid, I told him I didn’t, that I was just hanging onto to a glimmer of hope (any given Sunday, remember) that Buffalo would pull it off, but truth be told, I did expect the Bills to win. That’s when I realized that professional football – particularly my love affair with the Buffalo Bills – had made me delusional.

I floated through the day lifeless and socially retarded. No one talked to me at work because, as my boss told me, I just had “that look” on my face. Plus they all knew what I endured the night before, what a heartbreak it was and how lost it left me feeling. I’d talked peoples’ ears off all week long about how the Bills were going to show up and give the undefeated Pats a run for their money, if not their first lost of the campaign. But today, the day after the game, I had nothing to say, just “that look” to give.

Chalk this day up as a wasted day of my life. Though I got a lot done at work – a commendable effort, all things considered – I had no ambition afterward. A perfectly crisp, autumnal evening down the tubes … no walk by my beloved Neuse River, no watching the youth football practice in the park by my house or home cooked meal. I just sat in my living room chair in a daze, thinking about things.

How wonderfully fucked up it is that I let a damn football game get to me! I’m no braggart – it’s not like I would have spent all this week rubbing in everyone’s faces how good my team is. Bragging rights were not at stake here. Plus, my life is not ruined because the Bills got their asses handed to them on national television. I had a great weekend with my daughter, one of the best times my recent memory can conjure up. There is no reason to let this shit bring down my otherwise great state of mind. Speaking of that, let me bitch some more about that last statement more. Despite getting to be with Kalista for 48 hours straight, I deem this weekend a failure because of the Bills game. Talk about letting the bad overshadow the good!

So here’s where I’m at: I need to learn to differentiate between life and football. When the game is done, it’s done … then I need to get back to life. I can’t do anything to directly help my team nor do I really gain anything when they win or lose any tangible component of my life when they lose. The sun will come up tomorrow. I considered giving up football all together, but instead settled for just trying to be a more responsible fan. With me, it seems, sports are like guns. When utilized correctly, they are a lot of fun … but using them improperly creates havoc. Football is creating havoc in my life; it‘s to the point and ridiculous that it dictates my overall frame of mind for days at a time.

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