Sometimes I like to torture myself by thinking about times in my sports watching life that are almost apocalyptic. Well, to me at least.
As a true sports fan and having what could be called actual true love (nonphysical, because that would be weird and I’m not even sure how it’s possible, although this guy has sex with a car, so who knows…) for the teams that I follow, to think about the good almost goes hand-in-hand with the sludge and moments that scream to be forgotten, but can’t because they are permanently burned into your brain tissue.
My Mt. Rushmore of Depression begins with (my team in bold); Continue reading “My Mt. Rushmore of Sports Heartbreak”