Writing Prompt: Nothin’ But A Heartache?

 Prompt: Describe an heartache.

Nothin’ But A Heartache?

With the season of Fall comes football, and as a rabid Ohio State Buckeyes football fan, every year I step onto the rollercoaster ride which is their season. I cannot be described as a “casual observer,” having been groomed since birth to accept nothing less than every single game won by a comfortable margin, something impossible to attain, but I expect without fail each and every year. When you set such high, unobtainable standards for perfection, clearly you’ve gotten away from the AA golden nugget of “It’s progress, not perfection.” And you’ve set yourself up for something reoccurring all the time: excruciating, never-ending heartache.

Earlier this year, ESPN announcer Kirk Herbstreit said about 15% of Ohio State’s fan base is psychotic. Initially I took umbrage with that comment, having gone through actual bipolar psychosis in the past and I didn’t think it was appropriate to throw around the psychotic term like that. What I think would be more appropriate to say is a lot of people setting impossibly high standards for Buckeye football are having their hearts shredded every week so maybe they might think about a slight “attitude adjustment.” Or something like that. Yet I know how very difficult it is trying to right-size your expectations, particularly when you have tasted the triumph of the undefeated Bucks winning the National Championship. (Even though the last time that happened was back in 2002.)

To make matters worse, what I seem to go through is intense anxiety coupled with re-occurring heart-shredding every time my team fails to complete a perfect set of downs, or God forbid falls behind in scoring. Last week against Maryland, when we fell behind, I just up and left the house in the middle of the game and went to Starbucks, only returning home when OSU had managed to claw back and go up by 13 points.  I just found I was getting so emotionally distraught I had to remove myself from the premises, you know much like seek out sober faces, sober faces, I fled to a place where there wouldn’t be a 60-inch TV mounted to the wall. So much for sticking around during the tough times, though maybe in this instance it was self-preservation.

Call me someone with an intense emotional disposition, though it’s interesting to me that I don’t get nearly as worked up over Columbus Blue Jackets hockey, which I also love. Guess this re-occurring heartache of mine is reserved solely for the Buckeyes, so pass the Starbucks coffee, looks like I’ll be hanging out there more frequently on Saturdays. Sure, I can pop the extra Gabapentin for my anxiety, but I need something entirely different to help manage the pain caused by unreasonable, stupid perfectionism. Any experience, strength and hope? Lord knows I need it!