I love being a sports fan. I am not a fair-weather fan, or one who only roots for the best teams. I willingly suffer the lows that comes with loving a team, and exult in the highs that come from winning big games and championships.
Being a USA men’s soccer fan certainly comes with lows, and occasional highs. Will I ever get to experience the highest of highs, a World Cup trophy as the best nation in the world? I know that chances are slim, but I’ll keep dreaming.
Dream is what I did before the US fell to Netherlands last weekend. Instead of dwelling in the likelihoods that we would lose, I allowed myself to dream of triumph, of glory. Sports dreams are fun, and harmless. For a time before reality sets in, a fan gets to pretend, to experience an imaginary goal, a fantasy win, and feel good.
I am a dreamer. I often feel these things in regards to my personal dreams, but that’s different: making dreams come true takes work. Sports dreams are nice because, in the end, there is nothing I can do but watch, hope, and keep dreaming.