I’m fine. Really.
Numb. Frayed at the edges. A couple bruises. Nothing I didn’t expect from Day One of Rostergeddon.
Kimura to NYRB. Purdy, Palmer and, possibly, Wallace out. Brunner to Houston. Smith gone.
Brunner to Houston. Smith gone.
I thought I’d prepared myself for this. With the leaks Sunday, it didn’t appear that we’d have any huge surprises. And, theoretically, we didn’t. I just wasn’t ready to let go.
Brunner was unexpected, but understandable. And, as I said yesterday, I fully expect that both my Scots are already gone. But the confirmation of the first departure, which came from Smith himself via Twitter, stunned me anyway.
I know this is a business and everything that happened today was a business decision. I know this.
But it’s a business where we share our highs and lows, our failures and our triumphs on a very personal level. It’s become clear to me that I feel it more than many. Over the last six months, I’ve come to envy those who don’t take it to heart as much as I do. They live happier, simpler lives.
Happier and simpler, but without the same color. Even on a painful day such as this, I wouldn’t trade a minute of despair for a moment of being blissfully unaware.
For every day like this one, there is another. For every day of loss, there is a day of victory.
I took the Kenny Cooper trade pretty hard last year, but I was rewarded (I know some of you will debate whether this was an actual reward or not) with Kris Boyd. The CalFC match was by far one of the lowest points of the season, but the win over Seattle followed quickly. Spenny was fired, but then Boyd threw his fit with Cubbie the very next day.
For every bitter pill, there is a spoonful of sugar.