As a Patriots fan the Super Bowl was not pleasant to watch. I went through the whole spectrum of emotions last night, and when I got home I couldn’t really function or put into words why I felt the way I did. Bill Simmons, The Sports Guy, as done a great job explaining exactly how I felt. It helps that he is a huge Boston/New England fan like I am. The rest of this post is his:

Reliving one of the worst (sports) nights of your life as it’s becoming another one of the worst (sports) nights of your life? How does this happen? How do you put this into words? This was like going back to Shea four years later to clinch the 1990 World Series, then blowing another two-run lead in the 10th with two outs. This was a night that made you say, “Why does this matter to me so much? Isn’t it fundamentally stupid that this matters so much?” This was a night when you try to keep everything in perspective by going through the checklist of reasons why you shouldn’t be depressed — “Are my kids healthy?” (CHECK) “Do I love my significant other?” (CHECK) “Are my parents still alive and healthy?” (CHECK) “Do I like my job?” (CHECK) “Do I have a good group of friends?” (CHECK) — and just by doing that, you feel like the biggest moron on the planet. I have never been able to answer the question, “Why does this matter to me so much?” That’s just the way it’s always been. Ever since I can remember. You get older, your life changes, your friends change, your house changes, family members start dying, your kids start morphing into miniature people … and yet, one thing never changes for anyone who truly cares about sports. See, there’s no feeling quite like watching your team blowing a big game. It’s devastating. It’s paralyzing. It’s the only feeling that a 6-year-old, a 42-year-old and a 64-year-old can share exactly. You never get over it. You never stop thinking about the three or four plays that could have swung the game. It becomes something of a sports tattoo. You live with it forever, and then you die.