Football Emotions: The Highs, Lows, and Lessons

Have you ever been so invested in a sports team that it felt like their wins and losses were your own? That was me in 2010, living and breathing every moment of the Boise State Broncos’ incredible season.

The Broncos were coming off an undefeated year, fresh from a thrilling Fiesta Bowl victory. Kellen Moore, our star quarterback, was playing with unbelievable precision, breaking records left and right. The whole country had its eyes on Boise State, captivated by their wild plays and their relentless grit on the field. For a small-market team, it felt like the ultimate underdog story.

As they climbed the college rankings, whispers grew louder: could Boise State actually make it to the top? Could our hometown heroes be considered for a game against one of the nation’s football giants? It was extraordinary to watch them finally get the respect and attention they deserved.

All they had to do was win out their season. And they started strong, dominating their first ten games with ease. With every victory, my excitement grew.

Then came the Nevada game.

It was the kind of game that had you on the edge of your seat, heart pounding. Nevada played them tougher than anyone expected. But even in those tense moments, we had chances—three of them. Our star kicker had the opportunity to seal the deal, but if memory serves me right, he missed all three attempts. The final miss sealed their fate.

Our chance to see the Broncos take on a Goliath team like Alabama vanished in an instant.

It broke my heart. It wasn’t just a loss on the scoreboard; it felt personal. I lost sleep over it for days, replaying the what-ifs in my mind. The disappointment was so deep that I decided then and there that college football wasn’t for me. Apparently, I got too emotionally invested.

So, I pulled back. I stopped watching games, stopped chasing the highs and lows of every play. I’d occasionally keep up with scores or catch a game at a friend’s house, but my days as an avid fan were over. I forced myself to become a casual observer.

And that’s how it stayed—until this year.

It started like any other season. I didn’t watch a single game, content in my bubble of detachment. Then Emilia, my daughter and a high school senior, signed up for a tour of BSU. Part of the package included discounted tickets to a game, so we went.

That’s when I saw Ashton Jeanty in action—a running back so electric, so relentless, that I couldn’t look away. Watching him break tackles and charge down the field reminded me of why I fell in love with football in the first place. This kid was a beast, now even a Heisman candidate.

Next thing you know, I was back on the bandwagon. I made a point to watch the next game, and then the next. Last night, I watched the Broncos win their conference championship and secure their spot in the National Playoffs. They might even earn a first-round bye.

It’s an incredible achievement for a team that knows how to fight against the odds.

Of course, they might get their butts kicked in the playoffs. Or maybe—just maybe—they’ll shock the nation once again. Either way, I’m doing my best to guard my emotions. It’s just a game, after all.

But damn, it sure is exciting.

So here I am, cautiously optimistic, letting myself feel the thrill again. Because if there’s one thing football has taught me, it’s that sometimes the journey matters just as much as the outcome.

What about you? Have you ever been so emotionally invested in a team or a sport that it changed the way you watch?

Cheers,

Mike T.

Journal Entry: 329