PITTSBURGH—Soon after the big game had ended and his only two friends had departed, John Rackly, 44, returned to his lonely and depressing life. Moments earlier, Rackly could be seen standing on his porch, waving his friends goodbye. “Bye Tom! Bye Phil!” he was reported calling as they drove into the night, his smile fading with the evening.

 Sources confirmed that Rackly remained on his porch for a bleak, hopeless four minutes under a lone, flickering incandescent bulb in the frigid cold, attempting to savor the last of an already fading moment. After mustering enough energy to wallow aimlessly into his home, Rackly was said to have entered his barren living room, surveying the wasteland of shattered chips and discarded beer cans that adorned the space.

 He reminisced a few moments, of Broncos and Seahawks, of laughter with chums, haunted once more by the question, “Why can’t it always be like this?” before his thoughts turned to his measly managerial position on the ever-approaching Monday. Sources say Rackly then turned on the high-definition television, which he had rented just for this day, to quietly watch the post-game commentary.

He let out a great sigh and popped open the last can of beer for the night. A single tear rolled down his cheek.