It felt so good, so positive, so un-political, and while this whole week I’ve felt like crying every day, this day it felt like the tears were for good reasons, not because an idiot racist hater was elected president of the country I live in.
On Saturday afternoon I went to watch a high school sports team play a semifinal state-tournament match and I didn’t have a notebook or a laptop or an assignment or a built-in rooting interest, and I’ve done that in my life about zero times.
This team is so cool, as players and teammates and humans, it’ll make you cry. I didn’t root out loud, because the day before I’d covered the opening rounds of the tournament for the local rag and people had seen me there with my laptop and notebook. And even if I wasn’t working I didn’t want it to look like I was cheering for this crazy-amazing group of athletes, but I was, quietly.
When they won that match, I did have tears in my eyes, and then that evening, after they finished off the state championship while I wasn’t there to see it, I got teary reading about it. Which has happened to me over a group of players and their coach I don’t even know, outside of superficial sportswriter talk, about zero times.
I’m not over it yet, but anger is not the town I want to live in.
So I keep on loving my family and make sure they know it and think of ways to make myself a better person, if it’s not too late, and maybe do some good in the ’hood … because if I can’t change the whole goddamn country I can at least do my part to keep the idiot racist hater from trashing my little slice of it.
And sports, it’s funny, but it is consolation for us wounded ones, even when teams lose games we sorely wish they would not. Lately, even a little social awareness has raised its head in the corporate big leagues and right on down.
And, sometimes, the good guys win.