Sore loser

I don't know the exact moment I become a lunatic sports fan, but I have clearly slipped over the edge of reason. My moods rise and fall with my team's win-loss record. I've developed weird superstitions about what I need to do to help my team (there may or may not be lucky underwear involved). I have a complex system of rooting for teams I dislike, depending on how much their losing (or winning) affects my team's chances in the play-offs. I actively rooted for the Sparks to beat the Mercury the other night because I didn't like how close the Merc were edging to the Lynx in the tight playoff race. I hate the Sparks. It's almost like I rooted for UConn (never gonna happen). I do draw the line at rooting for the Yankees; I'm so full of antipathy towards that team I wouldn't root for them to win if they were playing Satan and his minions. (Wait. Aren't the Yankees Satan's minions already?) The phrase "you win some, you lose some" does not go over well with me. I want to win them all. Even in baseball, where they play something like 800,000 games in a season.

Luckily, my boys won tonight. I'm almost eager for the end of the season, so my life can return to normal for a few brief, shining months before college basketball gets into full swing. I'm looking forward to being obsessed with other things, like TV or blogging or maybe, god forbid, my own life.