I couldn't sleep the night that it happened, and I still get all riled up when I think about it four days later. My beloved Miami Dolphins were robbed by the refs, and there's nothing I can do it about.
Oh, I can swear, throw things, yell and act like a child having a tantrum (all of which I did), but it doesn't change anything. The Dolphins still lost. My wife and 6-year old daughter actually witnessed my meltdown, and I don't think they'll ever look at me the same. Nor will I ever forget that disturbed look in their eyes.
The referee called a Ben Roethlisberger fumble a touchdown, then didn't bother to notice that the Dolphins actually recovered the fumble in the end zone which would have pretty much ended the game. Instead, even after video review, the Steelers got the ball at the half yard line, kicked a field goal and won the game.
Referees have made plenty of bad calls over the years, and I've always said to myself, "Man, I'm glad I'm not a fan of that team. I don't think I could take it."
But now that it's happened to me, in one of the most egregious errors of my fan-rooting life, I can't get past it. Part of me wonders why I care so much about something I have no control over. But I also feel good that I do care so much. It's all just part of the joy, and pain, of being a fan.
