It’s one of the worst feelings, ever.
You wanted it so much for that person/team that you almost feel as if you are them.
It’s their shot at history, to be recognized not just as a simple ‘good’, but as a great.
The gravity of it is so enormous, you’re not quite sure how to process it.
You await the match/game/race with equal parts excitement and consternation. Watching it is almost an out-of-body experience. Every second feels like an eternity. Every chance, a link in the chain that can cause a life-changing moment.
You smile. You laugh sarcastically. You roll your eyes. You cuss. You judge.
“You should have done this!”
“You should have went after that!”
“What’s happening to you?!”
You feel parts of your body aching that you never knew could feel pain so much.
You pray. You’re desperate. A miracle would be welcome. Yet, it doesn’t arrive.
You stare at the result in disbelief. You wait for it to sink in. You may even cry a tear or two. You curse and ask what you (or better, them) have done to deserve this misfortune. You want numbness to just overcome your very being.
You wish you didn’t care this damn much.
You take a deep breath. Retreat into your safe cave. Sleep it off.
And tomorrow, you will attempt to move on with your life.