Who’s depressed right now? The Cowbell Commander sure is. The thing is – I just can’t logically accept why I am. Hear me out.
For the past day, I’ve been trying to find out a good reason why I’m feeling so empty inside. After all, I didn’t have a maize and blue uniform on Saturday afternoon. I didn’t play a single down. For all intents and purposes, the
The more I’ve been thinking about it, the more absurd it seems to me. In yesterday’s simplest terms, the guys in the funny outfits I liked didn’t get an oval to their side of a grassy rectangle enough times to make me happy, and now my whole week is ruined. I’ll think about it every hour of every day this week, and obsessively hope that next Saturday, the oval gets moved to the right side of the rectangle enough times to make me feel good again.
I wonder why I care about the men in funny outfits matter to me so much. I can tell you all their names and corresponding numbers, but they don’t know who I am. I can tell you how many touchdowns they scored in the game last week, but they don’t know or care if I score a big deal at work or get a promotion to a better job. The fact that I can be so deeply affected by people I don’t know while they have no idea I exist is kind of strange.
What does that say about me? What does that say about us?