The Silence Alerted Me of Your Demise

With the doubling of children in our household LP and I didn't start watching the Memphis game until about an hour after tipoff. With that kind of lag you're able to catch up right at the end of the game.

We were pretty stoked during the game. It was quite an exciting one but as the game wore on the silence in our house made us uneasy. Two minutes to go, Memphis up by 9 points and our cell phones had not exploded a single time. We didn't like that. We had too many hardcore friends and family at the game for there to be complete silence. Come on!! Argos, Desouzas, Perrys... send a text, send several texts, DO ANYTHING. Let us know how great it is to witness Memphis' first ever national championship. Let us know how drunk on excitement you are.

But alas, nothing. Even though we had not seen all the game LP and I knew the silence either meant (a) the game had gone to overtime or (b) we had lost. And it could not be just a regular loss. A regular loss would have elicited a phone call or text message from at least one person. It had to be a heartbreaker for none of our friends to peel themselves off the floor and send us some communication.

Sadly, it turned out that every statement in the previous paragraph was true.

So here's where I stand on Tuesday morning. I'm pretty friggin' depressed. And I really don't want to hear any glass half full shat about what a great year it was, how much pride we have, blah blah blah. If that kind of reasoning makes you feel better then you really didn't have your heart in this game or this team. If you woke you woke up today and said "wow, what an awesome season" then you didn't truly feel the heartbreak of last night's game.

If you were a tried and true fan, you don't even have enough energy to pull yourself off the floor and send a text message.

But here's the good thing about being manic-depressive. I'll prolly be in a great mood tomorrow. See y'all later.