“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all…”
– Emily Dickinson
I’ve asked myself many times why I keep coming back again and again. Why do I continue to draw water from the well that has poisoned me time after time? Sure, there have been years where the payoff was good, where risking my mood for an entire weekend on a football game worked out in my favor. But that Gamecock roulette has burned me far more than it has blessed me. I’m sure many of you feel the same way. This was your year, and suddenly in the blink of two weekends, it’s gone. Why, oh why do we all keep coming back for this?
Saturday night as I watched South Carolina metaphorically light the best years of our program on fire, watch them burn, then stomp them out into a cold, dark nothingness, I couldn’t help but question why all over again. I’m almost certainly taking years off of my life by watching these games. You’d have to ask my friends, but I’m fairly sure my best side isn’t coming out when I’m throwing the remote at the television and screaming things that would make my grandmother’s grandmother rollover in her grave.
On top of that, I don’t even go to South Carolina, my parents did. So why do I care so much that I will schedule my weekend around something that is more than likely going to make me want to pitch myself off a bridge? Why do we all keep coming back?
It’s hope. Stupid hope – it’s such a tease. I honestly hate hope when it comes to sports. It plays to my optimistic side and tells me things are going to be OK, when all the evidence clearly suggests otherwise. It tells me that our true-freshman quarterback and our 108th ranked defense will somehow get us to a bowl game. It tells me we might not go 4-8. But most dastardly of all, it convinces me that if I keep caring and stay loyal, one day it will all be worth it.
Dickinson says that hope “perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all…” How right she is. It never, ever stops. So for all of you like me, whose soul hurts after every loss you take: don’t give up hope. I don’t know when my day or your day will come, but take heart in the fact that there will be a brighter tomorrow.
…I hope.
