To Chapter 137 on the Occasion of Our Parting,

If I hadn't been sane, I would have written to you a long time ago.

As it was, our correspondence got off to a slow start. I mean, I knew you were out there some time back around January when the road to what I like to think of as the End began. You'll tell me it's silly, I know. It is. There is no end.

Warning: May Cause Drowsiness and Irritability

I've followed Toronto FC since 2007 when Danny Dichio banged in the team's first goal. It was the first game of pro soccer I'd ever watched voluntarily on TV. I was hooked.

The losing, like the goal, has been curiously addictive. Nothing made sense about the team now and it sure doesn't today, after another hopeless draw, at the end of a hopeless season, sans most of the management and playing staff that started said season. (Remember Hogan Ephraim? Hallucinogenic, I tell you.)

Toronto FC has developed into a very strong sedative, and it really is unique amongst drugs because it used to be a stimulant--I'd sit on the edge of my seat waiting for Collin Samuel (who?) to score a goal, and fall back off the high when he missed from six yards out.