I feel empty inside. A week ago at this time, my life was full of possibility and excitement. There was so very much to live for. Now, just seven days later, I sit on the edge of despair, wondering how I will have the strength to go on.
You might think that I am having Inaugural Withdrawal. The balls are over. The speeches have been made. The throngs of people have drifted back to their home states. Washington D.C. is back to business as usual. Bruce Springsteen is back at home, rehearsing for his halftime show, and therein lies the rub.
There is no football this weekend. This is the week that the NFL has sadistically placed between the fever pitch that is the conference championships and the potential letdown that the Super Bowl and all its attendant hype. A week ago, I watched a pair of games that came down to the final quarter, with the upstart Cardinals providing the Cinderella story on one side and the dynasty that is the Pittsburgh Steelers on the other. Can Kurt Warner stretch the Steeler defense enough to break it? Will Troy Polamalu reveal himself as a true Uruk Hai berserker? Tune in next week and find out.
In the meantime, watch a bunch of sports that are not having their world championship. Or, heaven forbid, don't watch sports at all. I know that this is an attempt to build on the enthusiasm created over the past twenty-odd weeks. When the football season started, we still had Tom Brady and Lane Kiffin to kick around. I know that Tampa Bay deserves its chance to fill every single hotel room and fold out bed. I know that it takes a long time to get those hysterical talking-baby commercials for E*Trade just right.
Oh, and they probably want to give the two teams a chance to get all their players healthy and prepare a really super game plan for the game of their lives. All this while the nation continues to cling to every shred of new, inside information about second-string offensive tackle Elliot Vallejo. Well, I'm sorry. I'm bored. I want the game to be on now. I hate this weekend.