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.
But starting last year, under Paul Mariner, I started falling asleep. It wasn't even voluntary. I wouldn't be particularly tired, but the effects are strong and often immediate. I've had antihistamines that didn't work as quickly as Toronto FC under Mariner.
The initial perk of the drug was something to identify with. Something Canadian that was original and vibrant. Like a long-term relationship with any narcotic, TFC's boon wore off long ago, and now it just causes a feeling of low-level irritability before and after use.
Under Ryan Nelsen, especially since Kevin Payne was fired last week, the threshold has been crossed. The realization had that comes with any drug: it isn't helping; it never has and never will. I'm addicted, and it's killing me, my life and my psyche.
In several years you can expect to see me wandering through parks raving about surrealist fiction and midfield talent in Thailand.
Until then it'll just be the usual slow descent into regret and violence.
Use this product with care.
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