The Curse of Hope

HurricaneKush

Redshirt Freshman
Joined
Jan 8, 2014
Messages
582
I was 96% out. Well on my way to acceptance that my sports team that created so much joy and identity as a kid was now a source of renewable misery, and would likely remain so for the foreseeable future. I’d check in here on signing day and once a week during the season, resigning myself to the understanding that my Canes fandom was a self-immolation ritual that should only occupy a limited space in my brain.

Watching Manny Diaz stomp around wearing his dads suit on the sideline last year, calling timeouts with 20 seconds when the other team had none, guys tackling the wrong guy, it simplified things for me. Canes football was a drug that used to get me high that didn’t anymore and I was getting comfortable with that.

Then Mario came, bigwigs started ponying up, and it became clear that we were built to last. Just like that, I was sick again. I’ve been reinfected with belief. I’m ready to get hurt all over again. This year, my expectations are limited. I don’t think this was a turnkey roster situation.

My entire adult life has been spent watching the giant I love sleeping itself to death, and leaving me to wonder why. Now, I genuinely think he’s waking up. He’s angry. He’s going to destroy everything in his path. He’s going to hurt me again.

I’m a sick man, and I’m actively deciding not to get better. But we’re going to beat the **** out of other college football teams for years to come, it’s going to feel good, and that’s all it’s for.
 
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I was 96% out. Well on my way to acceptance that my sports team that created so much joy and identity as a kid was now a source of renewable misery, and would likely remain so for the foreseeable future. I’d check in here on signing day and once a week during the season, resigning myself to the understanding that my Canes fandom was a self-immolation ritual that should only occupy a limited space in my brain.

Watching Manny Diaz stomp around wearing his dads suit on the sideline last year, calling timeouts with 20 seconds when the other team had none, guys tackling the wrong guy, it simplified things for me. Canes football was a drug that used to get me high that didn’t anymore and I was getting comfortable with that.

Then Mario came, bigwigs started ponying up, and it became clear that we were built to last. Just like that, I was sick again. I’ve been reinfected with belief. I’m ready to get hurt all over again. This year, my expectations are limited. I don’t think this was a turnkey roster situation.

My entire adult life has been spent watching the giant I love sleeping itself to death, and leaving me to wonder why. Now, I genuinely think he’s waking up. He’s angry. He’s going to destroy everything in his path. He’s going to hurt me again.

I’m a sick man, and I’m actively deciding not to get better. But we’re going to beat the **** out of other college football teams for years to come, it’s going to feel good, and that’s all it’s for.
There is a 12 step program for you.
 
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I was 96% out. Well on my way to acceptance that my sports team that created so much joy and identity as a kid was now a source of renewable misery, and would likely remain so for the foreseeable future. I’d check in here on signing day and once a week during the season, resigning myself to the understanding that my Canes fandom was a self-immolation ritual that should only occupy a limited space in my brain.

Watching Manny Diaz stomp around wearing his dads suit on the sideline last year, calling timeouts with 20 seconds when the other team had none, guys tackling the wrong guy, it simplified things for me. Canes football was a drug that used to get me high that didn’t anymore and I was getting comfortable with that.

Then Mario came, bigwigs started ponying up, and it became clear that we were built to last. Just like that, I was sick again. I’ve been reinfected with belief. I’m ready to get hurt all over again. This year, my expectations are limited. I don’t think this was a turnkey roster situation.

My entire adult life has been spent watching the giant I love sleeping itself to death, and leaving me to wonder why. Now, I genuinely think he’s waking up. He’s angry. He’s going to destroy everything in his path. He’s going to hurt me again.

I’m a sick man, and I’m actively deciding not to get better. But we’re going to beat the **** out of other college football teams for years to come, it’s going to feel good, and that’s all it’s for.

You need new dietary breakfasts. Snake asz with eggs and grits. Wash it down with some viper pizz. Sip on coffee strong as Texas Mule Pizz till noon. Blow the foam off with a fart.

Ten days later, you'll be able to bear hunt with a switch. Just like Mario and crew.
 
Hope is what all football regimes bring. It's when they lose the ability to inspire hope with recruits and with the fanbase, that is what does them in.
 
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Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me 20 years in a row, shame on :neonu:. It will take time to trust again. To love. To feel. To laugh. To smile. Give it time. This is real.. I think.
 
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I was 96% out. Well on my way to acceptance that my sports team that created so much joy and identity as a kid was now a source of renewable misery, and would likely remain so for the foreseeable future. I’d check in here on signing day and once a week during the season, resigning myself to the understanding that my Canes fandom was a self-immolation ritual that should only occupy a limited space in my brain.

Watching Manny Diaz stomp around wearing his dads suit on the sideline last year, calling timeouts with 20 seconds when the other team had none, guys tackling the wrong guy, it simplified things for me. Canes football was a drug that used to get me high that didn’t anymore and I was getting comfortable with that.

Then Mario came, bigwigs started ponying up, and it became clear that we were built to last. Just like that, I was sick again. I’ve been reinfected with belief. I’m ready to get hurt all over again. This year, my expectations are limited. I don’t think this was a turnkey roster situation.

My entire adult life has been spent watching the giant I love sleeping itself to death, and leaving me to wonder why. Now, I genuinely think he’s waking up. He’s angry. He’s going to destroy everything in his path. He’s going to hurt me again.

I’m a sick man, and I’m actively deciding not to get better. But we’re going to beat the **** out of other college football teams for years to come, it’s going to feel good, and that’s all it’s for.
Bruh you and me both.

I had whittled down my Canesanity, I hadn't watch a full game in a couple of years. I would do something to distract myself and maybe follow a game sporadically using the ESPN app.

I had trimmed all my sports down prior to that. The Canes were my last vice.
After we lost to FSU, I had declared my fandom OVER. Trust me that took a LOT... I can still remember as a student, drunk and happy at the Rat, January 2, 1984, watching Nebraska go down. I kissed more people that night than I have in the rest of my entire life.

After FSU... I was.... free... Free. FREE I tell you! Gone was that suffering!

But then.. Mario.. Dear lord help me. Back on CIS, devouring everything, in a whirlpool, spinning, falling....

Brothers, I am back, so help me God. At least there is always Gator Tears.
 
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