Today is the First Day of the Demoralizing “There’s Always Next Year” Territory
Waking up today, we all had a game hangover, which is a million times worse than a real hangover. With a real hangover, you just drink water, or Gatorade, or even pickle juice I guess and all the pain goes away. With a game hangover, there’s no quick fix, the pain sticks there. There’s no cure for thinking about how the Eagles should have just let the clock run down to the two minute warning. There’s no way of erasing that guy-wrenching memory of the ball going through Alshon’s hands.
We all knew how that drive was ending. I wonder how they would’ve scored. I wonder how much time Drew Brees would have had on the clock. I wonder if it would have been eerily similar to the 2013 Wild Card game. I wonder if all the injuries we sustained at the SuperDome were the universes way of telling us it wasn’t our time. I wonder how long I’ll play out all the scenarios in my head before I get over the loss.
I, like everyone else am so happy for this resurrection of a team that looked dead. The odds of even being here were literally slim (6% at one point). But I just don’t want to settle. And just be happy we made it this far. I’m selfish and greedy. But not just for the purpose of gloating about a Super Bowl victory. More so because I see how special the character of this team is. You can try and try and try, but you can’t replicate that. I knew it had to end sometime but the reality of it is, my favorite people, not just players, to every put on an Eagles jersey are done. I hate facing that reality. Even if this journey did last until February, I’d still want another week. So, it was inevitable to feel like this got cut short.
It’s waking up the day after the World Series and watching TV. You hear that the Phillies core will still win a championship again because they still have time. You think of that and let doubts creep into your mind. Because even though you got to be THE winner in 2017 and go on another “magic carpet” ride this year, the Philly sports fan in you creates doubt.
I hate the “shoulda coulda woulda” day after the game hangover.