Let’s talk about the true end of the game. It’s not the final whistle. No, that’s just the curtain call. The real “over” is when you’ve finished yelling at the TV, checked Twitter for the final meltdowns, and walked into the kitchen to face the wreckage of your snack choices.
You know the scene: three half-empty salsa bowls, a mountain of crushed Pringles, and that one weird cheese dip nobody will claim. The game is over, but the cleanup is just beginning.
It’s also over when you realize you’ve forgotten to text your brother back. You know, the one who texted “OMG DID YOU SEE THAT?” You’ll reply with a vague “lol yeah,” even though you’re still not sure if that was a hold or not.
The Long, Slow Bleed of Overtime
Overtime. The word strikes fear into the hearts of partners, children, and anyone who needs to pee. It’s the football equivalent of a sudden-death ab workout. You’re not sure if you’re having fun or being punished.
If the Seahawks win the coin toss? You sit, tense, watching DK Metcalf run a go-route for what feels like seven minutes. If they lose the toss? You brace for the possibility of a long, slow field goal drive that ends your evening with a gentle thud of disappointment.
Seahawks win dramatic 19-16 overtime game over Rams, clinch playoff
I remember one overtime game that started at your standard 4:25 p.m. It ended when my neighbor’s sprinklers turned on. I had no idea the outside world still existed. I was in the zone.
