The game made me sick. So much so that when I got home I sat down at my desk and puked into my trash can. I went through the 5 stages of grief in about 12 hours:
1) Denial started when Iowa State drove down on their opening possession and kicked a field goal. While the game was playing before my eyes I was saying, "This can't be happening again, can it?" I quickly moved on to
2) Anger because I'm a man, I was in a bar, and I was drinking. But punching someone in the face because I'm pissy about a football game is soooooooo last year so I advanced to
3) Bargaining on the way home. As I sat in traffic for nearly 4 hours I just kept telling myself, "this was horrible, but if we can just beat Wisconsin next week..." as though I was making some sort of a deal with the football gods. As if they would help Iowa when they couldn't even help themselves. I don't like bargaining so I trudged forward to
4) Depression. This is not my thing by nature but I wore it out yesterday. I had every intension of wandering around in my bathrobe and house slippers for a few days, only leaving for booze (no one delivers). But I woke up this morning in the real world, not in the football bubble I was in all week. I realized I didn't want to say the season was over, I didn't want to abandon my boys, and I didn't want to be a little bitch, so I guess that means I'm at
5) Acceptance. We lost to Iowa State. Just because I saw the clouds doesn't mean I expected the storm. Sometimes they blow over. This time they didn't. Iowa State came out ready to play. They beat us at the line of scrimmage and won the only thing that mattered, the battle on the scoreboard. So, congratulations to Iowa State and to paraphrase Pedro Martinez:
"I just have to tip my hat to the Cyclones and call them my daddy."
We have a game this Saturday against a team a hell of a lot better than Iowa State. It will take all we have to beat Wisconsin, so whining about this loss isn't going to do anyone any good. I'm moving on. I think you should too.
That's all I got.