There's a magical moment that happens in close team sporting events when there is a ball, flying in the air. For this particular kind of moment, the ball must be in the air at a pivotal moment in the game, because the game itself hangs in the air, with that ball. Everyone stands up, breathless, waiting. Time seems to stand still, because that moment is full of hope - for that seemingly endless moment that the ball is in the air, anything can happen. The game may be over, depending on what happens with that ball. But for the short time that ball is in the air, it is flying through endless possibility.
Of course, hopes are dashed or met when the ball is caught, or blocked, or dropped, or hits the back of the net. But while the ball is in the air, everything is amazing. This moment is of course best when your team is down by one point, and that ball would just nudge them over the edge toward winning.
I love that moment. I don't care if it's baseball or American football or soccer or cricket or squash or hockey (in that case, it's a puck. Obviously). It is a magic moment, and I less-than-three it.
In unrelated news, I had a dream last night that I was Laura Ingalls, and Jude Law was playing the part of Almanzo Wilder. It was one of those dreams you wake from and try very hard to recapture by falling asleep immediately after hitting the snooze alarm. Oh, Almanzo (not sure why my brain felt the need to substitute Jude Law when real Almanzo looked like that, but I'll take it).
That's all. How are you?