Bears Down

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Each time it was repeated to me last Monday, I couldn’t help but ask myself, who died? But then I remembered that it was my team’s Super Bowl loss over which I was in mourning. Yes, sports mourning is a rather inane concept, and I’d like to be able to say that I did not shed a tear over the loss of my beloved Cubs in 2003, but on occasion I fall victim to a bit of depression after my team almost wins the big one. Indeed, it’s taken me over a week to be able to write about this loss.

It’s not so much that I’m a sore loser, but that after all of the excitement it is difficult to return to the norm. I’ll miss being able to wear my new favorite hat with extra pride. I’ll miss having a reason to excitedly read sports coverage. And most of all, I’ll miss my weekend excursions to the Billy Goat Tavern to cheer for the Bears with the Chicago expat community. It was comforting to be able to find a little piece of home—complete with South Side accents (real or fake) and stories about the bitter cold—in a city that so shuns such strong identities.

Okay, so maybe I’m not really in mourning, but I have unquestionably experienced a loss.