I can't believe I'm using one of my favorite lines of The Little Prince to discuss basketball, but I am. And let's face it, basketball is just the starting point for many of life's great quandries.
"You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed."
That's kind of how I feel about Carolina basketball lately. You set your watch, mood, and heart by it and you get burned. All the things done to tame yourself in the ways of something outside yourself have no place here. No matter what socks you wear, how hard you hit the couch, how many curses you shout, it's beyond your control. My lucky socks aren't going to make them catch a pass. Hitting the couch isn't going to keep them from turning over the ball. And cursing isn't making them play with heart.
But that's the risk you take when you let yourself be tamed. And it's certainly better than the alternative: being a fan of some other team. (Ugh, perish the thought!)
Though I truly hope the rest of the season doesn't cause me to continue to do this:
Because it's really not good for my head. Or my back. Or my attempts at normality.