When I bounced out of work Monday afternoon, proudly wearing my Henrik Tallinder jersey, a co-worker said to me, "You're going to be disappointed tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," he repeated, pointing at my jersey. "You're going to be disappointed."
"No way. I think they've got it. I have a good feeling."
In the end, he was, as he pointed out today, correct. I was disappointed. But it's like I told him: I'd rather start with genuine hope and joy and end up disappointed than expect the worst from the beginning and be right. Maybe that makes me foolish. Maybe it just makes me a sports fan.