It hit me during the barrage of pharmaceutical ads I saw over the weekend … maybe the one where people were salsa dancing for some reason.
If sports were marketed like drugs for your heart, diabetes, restless leg syndrome or whatever, the benefits would be fun, a chance to get away from real life, hours of entertainment and fellowship with your fellow fans or participants.
Of course, all drugs have side effects, and one of those would be white-hot irrational rage.
Now that the effects of the drug have worn off, I can say coolly and rationally that Loris Karius has never seemed like a good keeper since he arrived at Liverpool, that his inexcusable blunders handed Real Madrid the Champions League final and that I would prefer Liverpool have a different keeper next season.
Under the influence of the drug, I screamed at my television (it still hasn’t responded yet) about how Karius is the dirt worst keeper in the world, that he should be shot into the surface of the sun and how if he’s still Liverpool’s keeper at the start of next season, all decision-makers at Liverpool should be sacked.
These drug-induced fits also include going on Twitter, flailing about wildly, as if looking for something to hit, in the hopes that people will join the rampage or come at me so they feel my wrath. (However, death threats or wishing him cancer is a bridge too far. “Shooting someone into the surface of the sun” is a physical impossibility.)
Except for maybe politics, is there anything other than sports that causes this? I don’t like Lena Dunham, but I wouldn’t scream at my TV while watching “Girls.” If Ed Sheeran comes on the radio, I just change the channel.
I don’t even hate-watch or hate-read that much. Why intentionally do something that makes me angry?
But it wasn’t until after the game that I realized how much the drug made me go around the bend.
I’m not the one who has to deal with losing a Champions League final. He is, and Liverpool is. It’s their livelihoods; it’s my entertainment.
You know what I did after the game? I went to an early birthday dinner with my wife and parents and opened presents.
So I’m basically calm now. The drug wore off. I’d rather not see Karius in goal for Liverpool again, but I’m not going to stop rooting for them if he is, and no one will get fired for it.
But I also know that tomorrow, back at work, one of my coworkers is going to ask me about it, and that little bit of the drug will set me off again. I think it will wear off quickly, though.
Just don’t expect me to start salsa dancing.