I understand that my sporting pursuits have no actual, inherent meaning or value. I know, logically, that the result of a weekend sporting event has no effect on my overall worth as a human. I am aware of these things, yet it makes no difference to my ability to handle the disappointments of loss.
I have been playing sport, predominantly cricket and football, since I was nine years old. I am now under a month away from my 36th birthday, and I have the grand total of one Under 16s representative cricket carnival win, and one T20 competition victory. I count neither of these as actual premierships, being periphery fixtures around my actual teams’ seasons.
As of August, I have added one more lost Grand Final to the list, now tallying three. There was an Under 19s football Grand Final for Old Ivanoe, after finishing on top of the ladder with just the one loss throughout the year. I managed to knock out our captain in that match by bumping his opponent so that his head flung back and collected him in the temple. It was a weird feeling watching our dominant side have no answers on the day. I recall being disappointed, but mostly just a bit stunned.