It is a good time to be a sports fan in New England. The Boston Red Sox captured their ninth World Series championship last October and the Boston Celtics and Bruins have proven to be perennial playoff contenders in recent years.
And this past Sunday, the New England Patriots defeated the Kansas City Chiefs to advance to their third straight Super Bowl, and fifth in the past six years.
Cheering for a professional sports team can be both enjoyable and entertaining, but it is not without its flaws. When your favorite team wins, there is a feeling of euphoria that comes over diehard fans, but when a team loses, melancholy can set in.
When my favorite team wins, I’m as happy as a clam, but if the team loses, I become a sullen, sad sack who often mopes around for a day or so. At least I can admit it, so that’s a start. Each year, at some point during the football season, my wife will ask me, “Why do you get so worked up over something as silly as a game?” And she’s not wrong, I do. But I like to think that I have gotten better as I have matured.
Superstitions are also a big part of sports, and I admit I have been known to follow a few over the years. During my time living in Rockland, I played on and managed a co-ed softball team that won numerous town titles. Every game day, I would drive to the field and listen to the same collection of songs to get myself ready. And when it came time for the playoffs, I would often arrive at the field several hours before the game just so my team would get the “good dugout,” located along the third base line.
Watching the Patriots, I have similar superstitious routines as if my actions somehow have an impact on the game. I know they don’t, but on the off chance that maybe, just maybe, they do, I like to be prepared.
So there I was Sunday evening, sitting on the couch wrapped in a New England Patriots blanket as the team squared off against Kansas City. I wear the same Patriots sweatshirt, that has started to show some serious signs of aging, even though there is a newer one in the closet.
My girls used to sit and watch the games with me, but both have reached the point where they would rather hang out in their rooms. My wife also has no real interest in watching football and usually sits in the chair reading a book or heads out to run errands. Occasionally, she will chime in with some zingers like “You know they can’t hear you,” whenever I start screaming at the television.
Night games are especially difficult as I have to try to contain my excitement to inaudible cheers, and occasionally a celebratory touchdown dance, so that I don’t wake the rest of the house. Then trying to fall asleep while your adrenaline is still pumping is always a difficult task.
Joseph Cyr is the senior reporter/sports editor for the Houlton Pioneer Times. He can be reached at jcyr@bangordailynews.com
