Yesterday was the frosting on a very bitter cake.
With hope all but waining, the Bengals only had to beat the dirty cheating Steelers in order to keep playoff hopes slimly alive. But, alas, one victory in my weekend was too much too ask. By the end of the pitiful game, the Steeler faithfull were waving their “terrible towels” in gleeful victory, and I was left pouting in my recliner, with a spaghetti sauce stain from earlier in the evening gracing my sweater.
Earlier in the evening, I was treated to the painful reminder that my Fighting Irish (of Notre Dame, not my upstarirs neighbor) had failed miserably this season as the teams for college bowl games were announced.
The night before, my Wright State Raiders (Dayton, Ohio’s other team) lost a basketball game to Marist. To Marist.
The one great spot of the weekend was Saturday lunch at the new Chinese Buffet down the road. Lots of selection. Good Crag Rangoon.
But, man…I would love to know the thrill of victory instead of the taste of defeat. I periodically threaten to switch allegiances, but my friend Ross reminds me that a sports “turncoat” is worse than a traitor to your nation. Oh, well…
Then I thought about reading a book. Too many pages, though…
I suppose I can resurrect my annual motto: “Wait til next year!”
For now, I think I’ll enjoy some more crab ragoon. And maybe, just maybe, a little General Tsao’s…
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