My beloved Buccaneers nearly killed me yesterday
This is something I should be used to…something that should brush off my shoulder, roll off my back, keep moving without missing a beat. I didn’t think the Buccaneers still had the power to destroy me. Boy was I wrong.
Picture my Sunday afternoon like this: Bruce Arians is Pennywise, living down in the sewers, leading idiot fans (like myself) to their deaths with the idea of a 2-1 start on top of the NFC South.
I’m stuffing my face with hot dogs and chips as the Bucs play a nearly perfect first half of football. I’m feeling good, great even. Then I hear a whisper from out in the street. My windows were open yesterday during the games, it was nice out. It’s PennyBruce, he’s calling from the storm drain.
I look down into the sewer with wanting eyes. “This is it! Jameis has found his rhythm….The Bucs have changed…Maybe they’ll talk about us on SportsCenter this week…Mike Evans’ prime won’t be squandered!”
“Come closer Matt! Have you seen Shaq Barrett? He’s awesome!”, the clown brags–It doesn’t matter, I’ve already taken the bait.
Next thing I know I’m being dragged into the sewers. Jameis throws a pick, my arm gets bitten off. “3 and out, 3 and out, 3 and out”, the demented clown starts to chant. I’ve lost the will to live by the time Daniel Jones runs it in to put them ahead.
I let the other side take me as the field goal attempt soars far outside the right post. I wish I could tell you it was painful, but it wasn’t—I was numb. I had seen this story before.
I slump back on my couch.
Death, taxes and the Buccaneers blowing a second half lead.
Maybe I’ll be back later this week with a more positive outlook. Maybe I won’t.