Have you ever followed sports? You know that empty feeling far beyond disappointment when your team manages to find that place much lower than rock bottom? You know that point when you realize that your team has given you nothing but angst, regret, disappointment and misery? You know that moment when you finally ask yourself, “Why? Does this even really matter?”
Of course not. You’re not a Michigan fan.
Unfortunately, I am. And the season that started with your’s truly shamelessly jumping up and down at the Big House as Tate Forcier made everything happy against Notre Dame ended with that same Tate Forcier throwing everything away, as if on purpose. What did I do to deserve this?
There’s always next year. There’s always always next year.