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As you’re all certainly aware by now, the Indianapolis Colts were upset yesterday by the Pittsburgh Steelers in their first playoff game of the year. A season that was so promising just a month ago is now over, much earlier than I or a lot of other people thought it would be.

The game ended about 15 hours ago, and so I’m not quite as angry about it as I was as soon as it ended, but I instead find myself sitting here wondering why I bother making the investment in rooting for a sports team. I started following the Colts and the Pacers pretty closely in 1994, and ever since then I’ve ultimately experienced nothing but disappointment as a result of their seasons. Sure, there have been highs (the Pacers FINALLY beating the Knicks to get to the NBA Finals, the Colts winning a couple playoff games in the past couple years) but it’s always eventually tempered by failure.

Always.

So why do I let myself get so caught up in something that is going to ultimately let me down, something that I have absolutely no control over, no power to affect? I talk about Tom Brady and Bill Belichick and the rest of the Patriots as though they’ve killed my family and shit on their graves, even though I’ve never met them and they might be very nice (doubtful, since Lucifer himself has fueled their recent run of Superbowl wins, and because they likely would kill me and everyone I care about if they got the chance). But because they’ve been responsible for so much of the Colts’ disappointment the past couple years, I intensely dislike every single one of them. Actually, the fact that the Patriots lost to Denver on Saturday is about the only solace I’ve been able to find from this weekend’s games.

I’m sure there are a hundred books out there on the psychology of being a sports fan and yadda yadda yadda, but I haven’t read them. I like then when I go to a game, I’m surrounded by thousands of people who, if only for a few hours, are on the same page as me and wishing for a common result. That’s good stuff, and not really something you experience outside of a sports arena of some sort. But is it worth all the bad stuff that comes along with it? I don’t know.

What I do know is that by the time next season rolls around, I’ll have forgotten the sting of another lost season, and I’ll convince myself that THIS year is finally our year. And I’ll ultimately get let down again, and I’ll once again wonder why I do this to myself.