March Madness means wild celebrating, over-joyed faces and dances, and also the very image of being heartbroken. While watching a game this past weekend I saw a guy who looked like a dork, a guy who is on the team but who I can’t picture getting any minutes. And if I had played college basketball, I would’ve been that guy.
Oh man, guys … oof, right?
Ok, yeah, lots of tears in this locker room. I get that. I know that even though we’re on the same team some of you are looking at me like, “who is this guy?” Which is pretty rude since there’s only fourteen of us but whatever.
While all of you were training to take us so far and come so close, like … so, so close. I mean, did you see that? Shoot sorry. This isn’t helping.
Dudes! Think about all the sweet sympathy hugs we’re going to get! Probably from pretty girls, too!
Wait, ok, since I have all of your attention … how old are you? I feel like I should always call you sir, and not because you’re 2.7 million times better than me at basketball. But you look like you should be celebrating your tenth wedding anniversary. At least. How are your four kids? Is it tiring being a college basketball player and masquerading as someone much younger than you?
Shoot. Ok. Distracted again. I’m cheering the team up. Uhhh … did you guys see there’s a grocery store by here? Pizza Lunchables on me, guys.
Oof. Tough crowd. So much crying.
All right, I don’t need to shower or anything so … I’ll be at the grocery store, don’t let the bus leave without me!