It’s one of the worst feelings, ever.
You’ve 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 with equal parts anticipation and consternation. Watching it is almost an out-of-body experience. Every second feels like an eternity. Every chance, a link in that chain known as 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 ache 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. Sleep it off.
And tomorrow, you will move on with your life.