Moving on or "letting the past be the past" isn't really my thing. I tend not to appreciate something until it's taken away or has grown so tired of my (accurately) perceived indifference and steady stream of sarcasm that it decides a Burger King parking lot is as good a place as any to pull the plug. It's only when I no longer have these things at my disposal that I can't stop thinking about them.
This season, as many have acknowledged, has been especially difficult to part with, due mostly to the combination of love for the team and the horrifically unsatisfying way it ended. Still, here we are, painfully but undeniably stuck in the dead period. The good news is that the worst days of basketball withdrawal (think Trainspotting) are completely or nearly behind us, and the transition to our summer selves (read: normal human beings) has at least started.
For those who still haven't acknowledged that the grass is again green and your shoulders (or at least mine) are again severely, severely burnt, I think it's important that you achieve closure immediately. And I think it's equally important that you do so in the form of a fake awards show.
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