My excuse is the booze. It makes things hazy, unclear, and judgment free. It’s a root of many sins, from adultery to crime, but the sin that this booze gave me was patriotic pride, a sin that came from a rare concoction of alcohol during Olympic time.
I hazed myself while in the bar, and the hockey game was on. Our team wasn’t doing half bad, I’d say. For a good amount of time, they could maintain a tie of 2-2, but in a US-Canada match, it was a miraculous game.
Just picture two titans facing off in a stadium, but with hundreds of thousands, maybe millions watching. A sober man would respectfully cheer, but in the drunken haze, emotions run free.
Chairs would fly whenever we lost, and shirts would fly whenever we won. At the end, we’d only know if they’d won if we woke up nude in the bar, and we’d know if they’d lost if we were in hospital beds.
You call me a fool for blindly and drunkenly cheering? Well what sort of cheering do you try? Have I no right to the boundaries of sobriety being broken by the booze and the pride? I use the booze to break through those fake rules, and show how much I care for our team.
You can be sober if you desire, but you’re blocking yourself from your true pride. An accidental patriot’s better than a man of suppressed pride. I’m shirtless and hung over on the floor of a bar, but it means I have pride, and it helps me to sleep knowing my mind can’t always block my beliefs.
