I am not an Atlanta Falcons fan. Before this year’s Super Bowl, I’d never cared about the outcome of a Falcons game before. However, when Atlanta jumped out to a 21-3 first half lead, I was ecstatic. The Falcons had brought me more sports-related happiness in just one half of football than my actual favorite team, the New York Jets, had brought me all season. This is because the Falcons were playing the New England Patriots.

Last year, upon my arrival to Amherst, I learned about a place called “The Socials.” Four upperclassmen dormitories Coolidge, Crossett, Stone and Pond were the centers of weekend social life for Amherst students. Sure, many Fridays and Saturdays would be occupied by formals taking place in common rooms, but after those parties teetered, one could always retreat to the Socials to find a party.

On Sunday afternoon, playing in The Masters, one of golf’s four Major Tournaments, Jordan Spieth, the No. 2 ranked golfer in the world and my favorite athlete in the world, arrived at the 10th hole of Augusta National Golf Club with a five shot lead. Spieth, the defending champion at Augusta, had just birdied the final four holes of the front nine. He knew he was going to win the tournament. I knew he was going to win the tournament. Everyone knew.

He did not win the tournament.