Who's on First?

I'd be the first to admit that I sometimes take sports just a little too seriously. When the Cubs were a couple of outs away from getting into the World Series and blew it (I know it wasn't your fault, Mr. Bartman); when the Bears failed to beat the Colts (and that no-talent Peyton Manning) for their second Super Bowl; when the Europeans stole the Ryder Cup from us at Medinah, I let those crushing defeats get to me in a way that was only marginally less than how it must have affected the actual participants. I know it's only a game. But it's a game I often get way too emotionally invested in.

Take last Monday.

After watching my favorite hockey team lose Game 7 at home in overtime (after coughing up several leads), I'm sorry to say I had a rough time sleeping. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing that stupid puck bounce off our defenseman's shoulder into the goal. Crazy, right? The next morning, still bummed out about an event that had no affect on my actual life, I had to ask my bleary-eyed self one question. Why do I care so much? Why do I take someone else's endeavors so seriously? Why do I let a sports disappointment affect me in such a negative way?

I'm not sure if I know the answer but I think I know what I have to do about it. I have to try to use some of the energy I expend watching and worrying about whether my team is going to do what I'd like them to do and start worrying about how (and when) I'm going to start focusing on what I want to accomplish in my own life. It's not as if Jonathan Toews is worrying about whether or not I get my book edited. It's not as if Patrick Kane is tossing and turning trying to figure out how I'm going to turn my love of writing into something that can pay a couple of bills. And, more importantly, not one of my beloved Blackhawks is going to help me deal with the fact that my youngest child is about to move very far away in the very near future.

Getting through that last one is going to be tougher than any Game 7 I can imagine.