David walked home slowly after watching his favorite baseball team, the Northridge Polar Bears. Head down, hat almost falling off, David’s glove dragged on the ground as he held it by the strap.
Andrew intercepted David, “We lost again?”
“Of course,” David said, dejected. He sat on a bench, and his friend followed suit.
“Every year we get our hopes up,” David began.
“And every year they get crushed,” Andrew said.
“Imagine being a fan of one of the great teams, L.A., New York or even a Texas team. There’s hope in those teams. There are wins in those teams,” David said.
“Instead, we’re stuck here in the middle of no man’s land with this team,” Andrew said. “How bad was it?”
“We lost 6-2. We were right there and gave up three in the eighth. Our catcher slipped on home plate. He had to leave the game.”
Andrew shook his head. “You know the problem with this game is that it will never love us back.”
David perked up. “But we love it.”
“Sure,” Andrew said, “But for what? I don’t think our owner, our manager or even our mascot cares that we love the Polar Bears.”
“That might not matter, though,” David said. “Think of it this way. You remember that time we went up to Chicago. The nailbiter. The most exciting 1-0 game we’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah, that was great, but it was just us loving the team.”
“But imagine if we didn’t love the team,” David said. “Imagine if we just casually watched the game and didn’t care what happened.”
“That’s not as good a memory,” Andrew admitted.
“I think we love this team for us,” David said. “Maybe we never break the curse or even win our division, but that has to count for something, right?”
“It still hurts to lose,” Andrew said.
“Yeah, but it feels great when we win. Isn’t that why we love it?”