We have all been there. Waking up to the paralyzing fear of not knowing what went wrong, but being 100% sure that something definitely did go wrong. I would imagine that every person that was blinded by the sun of the morning they attempted to ignore the existence of after sitting on their ass and inhaling enough booze and finger foods to leave their college version of themselves disgusted is battling crippling dehydration, but I wouldn't trade this feeling of personal disgust for the one that's going to haunt the Atlanta Falcons for the foreseeable future.
Seriously, not even the entire tub of Gatorade that Bill Belichick curiously avoided could cure the Super Bowl hangover that Matt Ryan and Co. are about to endure. Don't get me wrong, I feel absolutely awful...but I think I would have needed to ingest the entire top shelf to feel "blew a lead that was 2.5X bigger than any blown lead in the history of a particular championship game" awful. My brain is in absolute agony trying to write this, but it won't still be overwhelmed by the consequences of bad decisions gone by when I wake up tomorrow. I don't want to speak on behalf of my favorite team's most heated foe, but I feel pretty comfortable saying it's going to take a lot more than 12 hours, 30 glasses of water, and a greasy breakfast to get over losing the biggest of games in the most epically disastrous of fashions.
I thought watching the Falcons and Patriots face off in the Super Bowl was a nightmare scenario, but somehow I came out of it feeling better about the immediate future of a team that's gone 7-9 three straight years. There's literally nothing you can do to convince me that the Saints aren't basically 2-0 considering they have a home-and-home with a half dead franchise on next year's schedule. You don't think Julio is going to lose a step after recovering from offseason foot surgery by curling up in the fetal position down by the schoolyard? You can already put Devonta Freeman on the long term IR, because there's no way it only takes one offseason to recover from the dizziness he must be feeling after having Dont'a Hightower spin him so fast that he could be used as a way to pass time on Jewish holidays. Seeing as he's only good once every three seasons, Matt Ryan was already destined for two straight down years. Gotta believe that the cliff that his play was bound to fall off just got a little bit steeper now that he's traumatized by his team's self destruction. That MVP award was the one thing he had going for him and now it's going to be associated with a memory that's the root of the "I'm never drinking again" feeling that's going to plague him daily.
I don't even blame the Falcons, because I don't think I would ever recover either. Hell, their city took such a huge hit that I wouldn't be surprised if Donald Glover canceled the upcoming season of his award winning TV show. The end of that game left Hotlanta so hopeless that Dwight Howard probably didn't even feel comfortable faking a smile throughout the demise of his hometown. Migos' bitch didn't even accessorize this morning, because she's more concerned with feeling bad than being boujee. I bet there are a bunch of lifetime southerners that are so depressed by the state of local sports that they spent this morning looking into following the Thrashers to goddamn Winnipeg. So don't you dare go feeling sorry for yourself because you had too much drink and would need to starve yourself until Thursday to get back to your starting weight, because Atlanta and the Falcons are semi-living proof that someone always has it worse than you do.