I hope we don’t break our own hearts this year

I hope we don’t break our own hearts this year
                        

It’s the Tuesday after the Browns season opener, and I am not going to say “maybe this is our year” ever again. I’m slurping black coffee and scalding my insides until I feel no more pain.

It’s also debate season, and I require just as much fortitude for this as I do for a Browns game. You like your candidate/team but just aren’t sure how they’re going to perform until they’re onstage.

George doesn’t love the Browns or debates. He will ask me why I put myself through so much torture, and my answer is always the same: I must watch every minute despite feeling like my face and ears are melting off.

Politics for me in 2024 feels just as fractured as my love/hate relationship with the Browns. There are folks out here in the game — being taken seriously — that shouldn’t even be playing. Where’s the injury cart? Get these people off the field. If they’ve proven before that they can’t play, they should’ve been benched long ago. Not a team player? End of the bench for you.

I remember a teammate that was injured and had to come out of a game. They didn’t like it and yelled at the coach to be put back in. And the coach acquiesced. I’ll never forget that as long as I live. I couldn’t imagine yelling at a coach to be put back in. The health and mental wellness of a team is more important than self. Shouldn’t we be team players?

If the Browns ever make it to the Super Bowl in my lifetime, I will take back everything I ever said under my breath about them. And that’s a lot of living room yelling too. The four walls of my house have heard it all, which is why George retreats to his man cave so he doesn’t have to hear me. Debates too, there is just as much yelling in debates in this house. I suit up to play sports and partake in politics like it’s my job.

I might make my favorite dessert to watch the debate tonight. We make snacks and appetizers for sporting events, and this should be no different. Dip and crunch when one candidate says something outrageous. Drink when the other flings back an insult that lands.

It’s a volley, my friends, kind of like a blistering game of tennis.

Maybe for my mental health, I shouldn’t watch either one. Maybe I should spend a quiet Tuesday evening reading a book or go out with George on a crisp September Sunday between 1 and 4 p.m. We all know this won’t happen, and I will have myself planted in the comfiest corner of the living room to take in all the action.

I’m just glad the Browns still have time to clean up their messes and get scared straight. Us fans have had enough. I wish we could vote for QB, although I’m not sure that would work out either. Like the election, there’d only be one chance to get it right.

Debates are like televised practice — you should attend so you know what shape the team is in. I know I’ll never miss a practice as I consider it my job as a voter to be there. Many of us can’t stand politics but will watch and listen to everything to do with our sports team. Honestly, that’s OK because sports might be more fun, but homework is required for politics and sports. Due diligence is needed.

The Browns will break my heart this year like they always do. I can’t imagine it any other way. I have people in my life that reach out every Sunday during the season. We hope. We reason with ourselves. We wail. We try to figure out why we still love them despite repeated heartbreak. Maybe we like the pain too much because it hides other things that are worse. I hope America doesn’t break its own heart this season. If they do, it won’t surprise me. My heart is used to it.

Melissa Herrera is a reflective writer who captures the beauty and sorrow of change. With a career spanning 14 years as an opinion columnist and the publication of two books, she resides in Stark County with her husband and four cats. She writes to preserve memories. You can reach her at junkbabe68@gmail.com.


Loading next article...

End of content

No more pages to load