Same match-up, same shirt, same lonely drive home and the same feeling.  There are only a handful of times I have ever felt this way: a sense of complete loss. 
The rug was pulled out from under me; I have been embarrassed, humiliated and, worse, subject to more ridicule for the support I show. It’s times like these I reflect on my love for sports.
Why would anyone in their right mind invest so much risk of falling so hard over a game?  Where is the line drawn between fan and fanatic?  It must either be unfixed or thinner than the string holding Gene Chizik’s job at Auburn.  Either way, I have somehow found myself on the wrong side.  How did this happen?  I am (was?) much smarter than this. 
Somewhere between USM and LSU, I have slipped my way down the icy hill from someone who cared nothing for sports to an addict. I knew letting my heart become invested in a sport was due to cause me pain someday, but I inexorably draped it in purple and gold, wore it on my chest and even tried to bury it after Jan. 9.
 I was greeted by my old friend, Pride, last Saturday night only to be tricked into believing I could sleep soundly for the next year.  In a game littered with bad calls (coaches and refs), lopsided stats and vicious momentum swings I am only left with the words I have been preaching since I fell in love with sports: it is the best form of drama out there.
If you don’t agree with this statement, then you are not a fan of sports. If you don’t feel the sense of emptiness or fullness by your team, then it is okay to admit you only like the game. This argument holds water for many reasons.
First, the outcome is known by no one.  Okay, so Vegas may lay some spreads out there that will give a nod to the direction of the game, but the bottom line always stands the outcome is never fixed. From the moment of the first pitch, serve or kickoff, all we can do as fans is watch and yell at our TV as the events transpire in real time.  Sometimes it is like watching a car crash right before your eyes while others, a miracle.
In the rare cases where the outcome is known or otherwise not independent of outside influences, though, it is sniffed out very quickly and effectively. Even if a huge game does go in the direction of fraud, we anticipate the wake of drama it produces and salivate for the punishment.  Ending fixed or unfixed, we still get our drama high.
Second, the good guys don’t always win.  This is probably one of the hardest burns to heal as it slowly eats away at our naivety.  However, maybe we as fans should thank sports for giving us this punch in the gut; it makes us come face to face with the reality of life itself.  Hidden in that football game where the team with the best stats and biggest heart got nicked in the last minute is a life lesson that says things don’t always go the way they should.  I won’t even go into the argument of bad, game-changing calls feeling like robbery.
 Thirdly, as much as we hate it, the media’s job of adding fuel to drama cannot be overlooked. 
The media is simply a reflection of the public’s view on any subject.  It is a business, like most, that seeks to maximize profit. The media is constantly there to give us the “deets” on every player and angle needed to get a certain group turned on. 
They know we love, and thrive, off of the drama.
 To turn the pillow over, I will address a brief concern I have with all this excess drama sports harbor. 
I am pretty sure being an ardent fan is detrimental to one’s health. The risk of high blood pressure caused by fluctuating stress levels combined with the food and beverage consumed throughout the game flirts with danger for our “pump.” I am pretty sure some Bama fan (who didn’t go to school there) went into cardiac arrest while watching the game this past Saturday.  Not to mention the ones who are risking their lives by going into Death Valley.  I don’t know whether to call them brave or idiotic.
For an emotional buffer as myself, it’s difficult to not let the feeling of hollowness sink in after a tough loss.
However, as much as I hate this feeling, I will still flirt with my purple and gold-draped pride while I continue to nurture the new maroon and white one this season has planted within me. 
Though the drama leaves me nail-less and sometimes unable to stomach anything, I will never turn away because the moment I do could be the one in which everything changes.  My name is Matt, and I am addicted to the drama of sports.