When the final moments last night passed by it was impossibly to remove the emotion from the situation. See, I've been there for every baffling moment. I have stood side by side with those of you that never walked away.
I even had the privilege of writing and talking about the experience that has been TFC for all those years. I remember the pure joy that was 2007. I remember the impossible lows of 2012 and 2013. I saw a consistently packed stadium turn into a only-full-for-the-big-games crowd (that still has a sizeable core fan that, frankly, the club really hasn't earned).
As a guy that some fans in other cities were aware of I often had to defend the indefensible. I was acutely aware of just how much of a punch line TFC was.
I also saw first hand how deep the TFC fan's scars were. Even this year when it was pretty clear that the club was going to end the drought the doubt was strong. TFC fans don't believe the club can win. They assume the worst. I call it TFC PTSD, and it runs deep. Hope isn't part of the typical TFC fans vocabulary.
And that's sad. Hope, after all, is what sports is supposed to be about.
Understandably, the only way hope can be found again is for the club to grab the fans and make them believe. TFC needs to show, not tell.
They showed last night. And the fans suspended their cynicism for at least one night.
Yes, the playoffs are a relatively minor accomplishment. But, it was important. Standing at the front of 113 last night it became clear just how important it was to those in that section and the others nearby.
They -- no, *we* -- had waited nine years. During those nine years we became a community. A community that has celebrated weddings together, comforted each other at funerals and became bigger than TFC.
So, it was impossible to be cynical. Yes, we should hope for bigger things but after nine years, I think we earned a little bit of pure, uncomplicated joy last night.
So, enjoy. I know I am.