I Have to Change My Life
Meditations on the Celtics Loss
Last night, the Boston Celtics lost Game 6 of the NBA Finals, losing to the Golden State Warriors 4-2 in the Best of Seven matchup.
This is not what I wanted to happen. And now I have to change my life.
There are quite a number of good reasons a guy like me might want to change my life, and quite a good number of ways I might change it. But seeing the Celtics lose feels like the impetus.
See, I wanted the Celtics to win. And, for a long while, they won.
When it was good, it was electric, inspiring. The Boston Celtics underwent a stunning reversal, going from an underperforming mediocrity (me) to a championship contender (me??), even when it seemed too late for them to turn it around.
First, they beat the hated Brooklyn Nets, led by our collective ex-girlfriend Kyrie Irving. Better yet, we swept them, going from anxiety to euphoria in an eight-day span. Next, the Celtics defeated the Milwaukee Bucks, the defending world champions. Finally, we beat the Miami Heat, crushing a fanbase who found this out the next day when making small-talk with their coke dealer.
I thought we would win. I knew we we would win. It was what I saw, what I said, and what I wanted.
But we don’t get what we want. That’s what’s so crushing about this loss, the summary I would give to my brother or anyone wondering why I took it so hard: it did not all work out in the end.
Boston cares about these things. There is history at stake, within reach, and we let it slip.
So: why do I have to change my life?
Part of the joy of fandom is the same as the terror of it; you cannot meaningfully impact the results.
Unfortunately, this also feels true about everything else in my life.
I mean, what exactly can I do? Besides being a mere passenger of history, I’m lazy in the special way that only anxious people are, and a prisoner of my own habits. Choosing is terrifying; acting on a choice is worse. And so I kind of exist, hustling only within my narrow field of vision, doing like so many others of my generation) a mixture of what I like, what I can, and what I must.
What I mean by that is: when the Celtics lose, when I don’t get what I want, I panic. I spiral. I wonder: will I ever get what I want? And, when that answer is “no” the question is: “and who’s fault is that, exactly––yours or the universe’s?”
The Celtics losing is the terror of coming to terms with my own inaction, and worse, the terrible responsibility which is my own consciousness.
I’m responsible for everything, and I outsource it all: to the Celtics, to my routine, to my habits or my marijuana.
And so, unhappily, grumpily, and dramatically, I sigh and circle back to my reluctant mantra.
I have to change my life