It's been 48 hours since the worst day of my life as a Celtics fan. Worse for me than Reggie or Len passing away. Worse than the losses in the Finals in 1985 or 1987.
Since that night I have no control over the most controllable things. I was at work on Friday and had a 45 minute meeting in the morning. Afterwards, I couldn't remember a word that was said. Someone was beeping their horn at me on Friday on the highway. I had no idea why. It was because I was going about 26 mph.
I spent all day Friday in a fog. I went to sleep at 8:30 last night and woke up at 11 am this morning. That's about 15 consecutive hours of sleep. I went back to sleep from about 2-7. I'm going to be calling it a night shortly. The way I see it, the less time I'm awake, the less time I have to rehash that game from Thursday night.
I haven't replied back to phone calls or text messages or voicemails. I haven't read any NBA news at breakfast, along with my bowl of cereal like I'm accustomed to doing every morning. I don't give a rat's ass about the draft, free agent signings or anything sports related. I'm not sure if I ever will again.
I'm a total wreck.
If it was a loss to another franchise I could assure you I'd be alright. But not that team, not with those personnel involved. The Spurs, the Suns, anyone. It would sting, but not to this degree.
I wonder if Chris the Buffoon Wallace watched the series. I wonder if he was pulling for the Celts since he was employed by them for so long. I wonder if he felt somewhat guilty by the outcome.
I shut the game off with about 30 seconds to go. I didn't watch any trophy presentation. I still haven't mustered the courage to look at that boxscore. The offensive rebounds and free throw attempts will make me even more depressed.
The agony of defeat is crippling, to the point that the thrill of victory, as sweet as it might be, is almost not even worth it to invest your time and emotions into it, if this is the type of ending that will come about. At the end of the day, watching sports is like that. You live vicariously through the guys on your television screen. It's totally out of your hands and that feeling of helplessness is the most debilitating thing you can encounter. And when you lose a series like that, the effects are crippling.
It's not like this is the 1985 Celtics and the team was still in it's prime. It's not even the 2008 Celtics. This is a team with guys past their prime. They sludged through a regular season for 6 months, finishing with a mere 50 wins. They had a nice run in the playoffs but as all Celtics fans should know, finishing second means the same as finishing 30th: no banner can be raised and the season was a failure.
I don't know what to do at this point. I can't believe anyone can possibly remain upbeat and optimistic for things like the draft or free agency. For me it's futile. I'm overwhelmed thinking of training camp, an 82 game regular season, and another 2 months of playoffs.
These opportunities don't come around often. It may not come around again in many of our lifetimes. I'm in total despair right now. In hindsight if I had known it was going to end this way I wish the Cavs would've knocked Boston off. This just hurts way too much.
Basketball's always been an enormous part of my life, playing and watching. But I wouldn't wish these feelings I've been dealing with for the past two days on my worst enemy. I'm at a crossroads in my life. I think I need to find a new passion or a new hobby, something that I have more control of. Because this total despair is having far too profound an impact on me.