Why?

January 15, 2011. This was a horrible day but, as usual, I have only myself to blame. I actually did not watch most of the game, choosing instead to have dinner out with friends at Bistrot Lepic, a wonderful Georgetown restaurant. We sat upstairs, which is more casual than below and I had the flounder with lobster sauce preceded by a fresh homemade pate. In fact, as we entered the restaurant, it was hazy with smoke because the pate had just been made.

Our reservation was for 5:30 so I did manage to see the Ravens go up 14-7 on that sensational touchdown resulting from a sexual assault suspect's fumble. That gave me hope that the Ravens would finally pull off the...dare I say it...the -- "impossible" by beating the Stealers in the playoffs.

Dinner was enjoyable. My friend Tom gave me periodic updates from his Android, informing me that the Ravens were up 21-7 ("You're toying with me, Tom," I would say, questioning his veracity.) However, as dessert was served, the commanding lead evaporated as the Ravens did something they haven't done all year -- give up touchdowns in the third quarter.

As we got into the car to drive back home, I listened to Gerry Sandusky announce that the Ravens had tied the score with a field goal, thus giving the Stealers more than three minutes to win it all. Though Gerry spoke as if fate ensured a close game, I could feel the pit in my stomach starting to expand and no, it was not the pate.

When I arrived home, however, there was a ray of hope. At 3rd and 19 (the sexual assault suspect had just been sacked), there was plenty of reason to believe that the score would at least remain tied. Then -- excuse me, I need a moment. Then -- it happened! One of those moments that Joe Flacco can only dream about. A clutch pass all the way down the field to a receiver who had outrun his defender. First down and goal to go. And it was all my fault. Why? Read on.