A Moment of Disappointment, Followed by One of Joy

     If you know me even a small amount, you probably know that I'm an avid fantasy sports player.  I've played everything from fantasy football to fantasy bass fishing.  Yes, I'm insane, I get that a lot actually.  But have you tried it? Fantasy sports are addicting. Ask my dad, who was in the room talking to me about fantasy sports when I explained my situation to him.
     One of my fantasy football teams was sitting on the outside of the playoff picture looking in coming into this week, the final week of the regular season.  I needed to beat a 9-3 division leader (a week after beating the then-top-ranked team in the league) and get help to grab the last spot in the postseason.  Highly unlikely.
     So, for the second straight week, my team played inspired (fantasy) football and beat a tough opponent (you'll find that I refer to my fantasy team as if it were a real football team) by a bunch.
     Now I needed help.  The team in front of me, Team A, HAD to lose or my streak of consecutive postseason appearances (six) would be over.  But, as of 8:00 p.m., it didn't look likely.  Team A had a twenty-five-point lead and Brett Favre left to play, whereas its' opponent, Team B, had the Vikings defense, Percy Harvin, and Baltimore's Ray Rice.  Definitely going to be close.
    As the Sunday night game goes along, it becomes apparent that Brett simply doesn't have it tonight, and I might have a chance to squeak into the playoffs.  My dad and I are talking about this possibility, and he says that as long as Favre, who my dad is playing against this week, doesn't throw a touchdown in the last two minutes, we're both making the playoffs in our respective leagues.
    Well, as Favre would do, he drove the Vikings down to the Cardinals 31-yard line.  I'll let Al Michaels take it from here.

Al: "Favre back to pass, steps aside the rush and slings it down the middle, and it's caught for the touchdown!"...

     Utter devastation. My head hits my comforter in pure disbelief, and my dad's slumps to his chest. No playoffs for us this year.

..."to Percy Harvin!"

WHAT? YES! 

     My room became a place of complete euphoria.

     Explanation: Because Brett's pass went to Harvin and not someone else, Team B got a point for the reception, three for the yardage, and six for the touchdown.  So instead of being down by 17 going into tomorrow's game, Team B is only down seven. And as long as Ray Rice doesn't get injured or have a horrid game, I'm going to make the playoffs. Incredible.

     Honestly, I know I'm a big proponent of sports. I love them, and they love me back.  I say this a lot, sure, but emotion like that only happens in sports. Even if they're fantasy sports.

     Oh, and my dad? Euphoria never hit my old man.  His postseason hopes were dashed by Favre's garbage-time touchdown.

     There's always next year, dad.

     (Fantasy) Sports can be cruel.