"That was horrible"

We walked silently and quickly down Main street away from the stadium, beaten down by the toxic combination of a near freezing mist that fell the moment we entered the gates, and one of the dullest games we've seen in 25 plus years of games, with an offense that was almost as numbing as the weather. Nobody said anything as we dodged drunk Buckeye fans intent on making asses of themselves, cars pulling out into the street from their parking spots on muddy lawns, and t-shirt vendors trying to sell their last shirts of the year. Really what was there to say? We so much wanted this game to be different, to be a triumphant send-off to all of our heroes, to be one last middle finger salute from our coach to all his critics. For too long, we've heard national pundits tell us how we should feel about him, or about how his job in jeopardy. Now that we knew he was leaving, we wanted to send him off the right way, with a chance to show everyone he was leaving on his own terms, and to show the nation that we, as fans, were both excited about the future, and sad to see this man leave the program.
After about 15 minutes, we arrived at Washtenaw Dairy, where my wife and five-year old son were waiting with warm cider and donuts. When I got in the car, my son, who had watched the game at home, exclaimed, "That game was horrible!" I winced a little and said, "On every level" He replied, "Yeah, even on Level Ten"
I'm not sure if I've ever been to level ten of disappointment, but I get the feeling I'd recognize it if I went there.