I’d planned this post to be the acme of wry grumpiness. I was going to muse, kvetchily, about my earlier assumption that having our beloved Tarheels suffer through such an epically SUCKY season (talking 40+ year-worst) would cause me to feel some much-lacking empathy for fans of teams who regularly suffer—both fans and teams, I mean. All those folks who wait desperately to get into the Big Dance as a 16th seed, only to lose at Game One.
But no, I was going to say. I am NOT empathetic at all. I hate this feeling and I just want it to go away and never ever come within my Tarheel sight.
That’s what I was GOING to say. And then I was going to assuage my hurt soul by posting pictures of my parents’ animals, here on the little scruffy farm where I grew up. Meet Erda the Norwegian elkhound…
…Hank the goat…
…and the World’s Sweetest Ass, Stevie.
Hold up—can we get a little more Stevie, please?
I was also going to celebrate the fact that a dear former student from Tacoma is now living within an hour of my folks, and was up for a visit!
But mostly I was gonna be grumpy.
Then: Covid19. And all its cascading effects. Still fresh, raw, scary, unknown, unfolding as I write this.
The day after our team’s ignominious end of season, all basketball ends. Suddenly the Mate and I, like everyone we know, are contemplating a very different world than the one we thought we were living in.
So, complain about sports? Nope. Inshallah, we can all go back to that in a year or so. But until then? Here’s another Stevie pic, for all of us.