Yesterday was hard on many of you. I watched as tweets from Chargers fans' changed from declarations of optimism to boisterous calls to rally. I cringed as those rallying calls devolved into remarks about how there was arguably still sufficient time to undo the mistakes of the recent past. But here we are, utterly Super Bowl-less, and there's nothing to be done about it.
Or is there?
No matter where you may currently reside in the Kübler-Ross grieving process, beer is capable of helping you through these tough times. The question is: What beer pairs best with crushing disappointment?
One way to cope is to remind yourself that for what San Diego presently lacks in sport-ball prowess, it makes up for in the virility of its beer. We needn't rely on how our professional teams fare for our self-esteem when we are literally awash with award-winning beers in all corners of our city. I recommend going with a nationally recognized GABF winner such as the AleSmith Old Numbskull. Its massive toffee and complementary bittering remind that life is often a balance of smooth sailing and rough seas, but that our collective love of inebriation will keep us afloat.
On the other hand, there's no denying that the Chargers' run to the precipice of glory and subsequent tumble down the cliffs of hope is sure to leave many fans feeling dejected. Attempts to look on the bright side ("There's always next year!" or "We would have had it but the refs totally hosed us!" or "Maybe the Broncos will die in a fire and they'll have to fly the Chargers in as understudies?") are bound to feel saccharine and hollow. No, the only reasonable choice here is combat bitterness with bitterness. And judging by some of the reactions I've seen on my Facebook feed, it had better be weapons-grade bitterness to even stand a chance. Accordingly, I recommend pairing such sentiments with a Ballast Point Tongue Buckler, notorious for its ability to have consumers overlook the discomfort of their recently severed limbs, let alone a rough NFL-season closer.
Maybe I'm over-thinking this, though. After all, consider all the times that beer has solved your problems in the past. You probably can't even remember all of them, which is kind of the point. As a delectable conveyance for ethanol, beer is not only its own reward, but also bottled amnesia tonic. At 13.1-percent ABV, the Amplified Ale Works Bourbon Barrel-Aged Rare Form is about the best bet you'll find in town for quashing those feelings of remorse and lament.
Let the healing begin, San Diego.