The Super Bowl was days ago. I’m still cranky. Depressed. I’m mad at football for ending. I’m mad I won’t be able to risk ⅘ths or more of my paycheck on a three-team teaser for another seven months. I’m mad that my least-favorite team in sports has been crowned champions. Most of all, I’m mad that my favorite team in sports — while not having played in the big game (not even close) — is directly responsible for this crappy end result.