Fog

This day feels like it will never end. Or never began. It’s one of those days where things that happened early this morning feel like they happened yesterday. Or didn’t happen at all. Maybe that’s because I should have been dreaming when they happened.
After resetting my alarm a couple different times to get every minute of sleep possible, I woke up at 3:30 a.m., two hours after I went to bed. If the final score from last night’s game was reversed, I would have been excited to get up. Or I might not have gone to bed in the first place. But the Pistons lost. Therefore, getting up in the middle of the night to drive 40 minutes to Oakland County Airport to watch the team exit its plane from San Antonio was not high on my list of priorities.
Don’t get me wrong. I still love the Pistons. They made it all the way to game 7 of the finals when most didn’t expect them to reach the first game. I was thrilled that I’d be home this summer, instead of in Erie, to watch Detroit fight for another championship. The energy has been incredible. It was crazy last night at the Palace, which was sold out even though the players were thousands of miles away. People screaming and pounding thundersticks like we could give our team a home court advantage away from home. Everyone felt so confident. So sure that we could defy all odds and bring it home. And that’s why the loss was so depressing.
In less than five minutes, the energy was transformed to sadness and disbelief. That cloud has stuck with me through today. I didn’t get much of a chance to sleep it off and pulling into the airport driveway to find more members of the media than fans didn’t help.