72 hours curled up under a bed in a fetal position is painful to ones' back, but not nearly as painful as watching your favorite basketball team lose to a team whose "fans" would rather watch a cow flop throwing contest or a rodeo than a basketball game.
My heart has been broken many times in the past- Kirk Gibson's World Series home run against the A's in 1988, Robert Horry's three point shot in last year's playoffs, Rich Gannon's five interceptions in the last Super Bowl- but this one hurt me right down to the very core of my very being.
This one was the toughest. I cried until there were no tears left and my eyes had the dry heaves. My wife couldn't coax me out from under the bed even though she waved beers, whiskey and dirty magazines at me. My dog got so depressed he died, and I didn't even come out from under that bed to bury him.
I am through with sports. They are the toy department of life, but all my toys end up broken- along with my heart. It just hurts too bad.
