A little bit crushed

I didn't expect to feel this way. I only went to one game. I only watched a handful on TV. Last night, I checked the updating box score online and then finally in the seventh inning turned on the radio and curled up on the kitchen floor.

As I listened to the Nationals in game 5 of this wild series, I flashed back to my childhood. I missed Denny Matthews and Paul Splitorff, Kansas City Royals announcers, even as I pictured the game currently in progress. I missed my transistor radio too.

I could tell it was nuts at the stadium, but my heart remained relatively calm. I checked my pulse even as the Cardinals made their surprising ninth-inning comeback. My pulse remained relatively normal. I still believed. These Nats had come back before. They would do it again. This was the year.

Then it was over.

I turned off the radio and went to bed. Disappointed that I didn't get to bust out the door and join DC for some cheering in the streets, I fell asleep quickly. I thought when I woke up it might be different.

I turned to the sports page and it described the disappointment and shock so well. I turned to Facebook and read the alternating reports of jubilation from the many Missouri pals and sadness from the DC area. I celebrated most of the season with the Internet. I read Washington Post stories all year and excitedly followed this young Nats team, yet today the Internet's account feels inadequate.

Even my oatmeal lacks a certain something this morning.