Irrational

Once again... I chose to avoid the big game... knowing I can't fathom the moments, the plays, the drops, the misses.  And yet.. I couldn't turn away during the final quarter... which then turned into extra innings.. or the 5th quarter.  So close. During the final seconds... as the guillotine was about to drop, I put on my shoes... put on my jacket... and at the very moment of absolute... I walked out of Grace's house. 

So close.  So very close.  So many chances.  So many opportunities.  I admit.. I knelt down and prayed. I called out to Jesus.  Knowing there won't be a response. 

I was in shambles. 3rd time in 12 years.

In 2012... after the game was over... I gave NN a bath.

In 2019... I sat in my car for an hour after driving around the Bay Area for 4.

This time... I walked through the silent streets of Belmont.  Hearing fireworks go off... but not for my team. Joyce picked me up and we drove home.  It was a silent car ride home.  And after we got home... I slid into bed and didn't move for the next 12 hours.  

Joyce kissed me on my nose. NN slipped me a loving note... words of love.  Words of encouragement.  But nothing worked.  

I hate football.  I hate how this is tearing me apart. I hate how stupid this game.. .THIS GAME... can cause me so much anguish. 

I took the day off work.  To burn off PTO.  And really... to wallow in my misery.  I called into one meeting... and my friends tried to console me.  It didn't work.  What worked was... it took my mind off of things.  I spent the day scrolling through Twitter.  Reading pundits. Re-examining all the coulda-shoulda-woulda.  I ran a bunch of errands.  Then the kids got home... and I took another nap.

I was exhausted. It didn't help that drumming took a lot out of me and I way under-performed. Messed up so many times.  And my groin muscle is still sore from the Kick Drum. 

29 years.  It's been 29 years.  What if it doesn't happen?

A friend of mine said his dad didn't want to watch it... cuz he didn't think his heart can take it.  But he watched it anyways... thinking this might be the last time before he.... passes.  The anguish. The pain.  The depression.  It's sooooo suffocating. 

I didn't cry.  It's not worth crying for.  Or worse.  It's beyond tears.  It's hell.  I'm in freakin' hell.  

No.  None of this is rational. I have my health.  I have a loving wife. I have amazing kids. We are very blessed in so many ways.  I shouldn't feel this way.  And yet... this void is still eating at me.  Eating away more than 2012 or 2019.  I can't find fault in anyone.  Not Maholmes.  Not Reid.  Not Brock.  Not the refs.  I can't point to anyone or anything.  No excuses.  We simply didn't win.  

A part of me died yesterday.  I am not the man I was.... nor will I ever be.  Yes... we might win it some point in time.  But that will never make up for the 3 losses.  This pain will never subside.  It might be buried... it might be numbed.  But it's very real.  I want to quit football.  I want to quit the Niners.  I can't do this anymore.  I can't stand the pain anymore.  I've been burned too many times.  This pain... this disappointment... this bitter cup... is not something I can bear.  

As irrational as any of this is.... this is real.  This isn't a moment in time.  This is... a lifetime.  A lifetime of hell.