I sit in the house by myself with the lights off, watching the game with the volume up real high.

Want to know how I enjoy watching a big game featuring Arsenal, Atlanta Braves or Oklahoma Sooners? It's usually in a dark room with a stiff pour of the good stuff ... and silence.

Watching the Premier League with The Boy at roughly 6:32 a.m. waiting for Arsenal to start playing. (IG/edthesportsfan)

It's like clockwork. Maybe 1-2 hours before any given big game, the text messages and phone calls will begin.

"Kinfolk, where you at?"

"Yo, where we watching the game at?"

"Fam, you want to link up at the bar to watch the game?"

"Come thru, got a few folks swinging by for the game."

"Bring yo ass."

The peer pressure comes in, and I feel conflicted. I am a social butterfly, and hanging out with my folks is always good. However, when the game comes on, and it’s a game that I care about, all of that changes. I become introverted. I become shy. I become sensitive. I become a raving lunatic.

So hell no, I don't want to come by your crib and watch the game. I don't want to go to the bar, eat delicious chicken wings and knock back cocktails with my folks. No, man, I'm cool.

When my team is playing in a big game, I like to sit in the house by myself with the lights off, watching the game with the volume up high, with a nice stiff drink next to me.

It used to be Caol Ila 12, and now it’s more likely Uncle Nearest 1884 or Koval Oat Whiskey. Maybe I'll have Twitter open on my laptop or cell phone just because I feel good about knowing that social contact is just a few keystrokes away. Half the time, when I'm on my social networks, I don't respond to anything. Sometimes it feels good to see other folks stream their thoughts, but for the most part, I like to be left to my own devices.

Why? Because, dammit, watching a game you're invested in is stressful. I can't quite yell like I want to yell at the bar. I can't clap my hands and fist pump at someone else's house like that. I can't just sit there and stew in my anger when I have a bunch of folks over at the crib. Those moments of inadequacy are real, and they should be let out. However, those moments aren't always meant for others to see.

I will sit in my house for hours on end, saying nothing when the game is on, which is perfectly acceptable.

“Poor Derek Carr.” — The Boy, probably. (IG/edthesportsfan)

I used to think I was a weirdo when I'd reflect on my desire to be alone, especially when your team's chance for celebration was high.

"Don't you want to hang out with your fellow fans?"

Maybe after the game, if we are victorious. But during? Hell no, go away. I don't know you like that, and there's a good chance you'll get on my nerves.

"Where's your bathroom at cuz?"

Man, why didn't you use the bathroom before you came here?

It doesn't even take much, and it’s got nothing to do with them; it’s just raw emotion.

That's what these games do to a person. They make them vulnerable. The subconscious feelings are displayed outwardly, with no filter. Some people are okay with sharing this side, but I'm not.

What’s fascinating is that, since my son was born, I share the dark spaces with him. He sees me when I sulk. He hears me when I curse halfway and try to stop. Sometimes he hears me fail to stop mid-curse. (Sorry, honey.) He’s there when I yelp with joy. He’s there when I’d rather watch Miss Rachel or Gracie’s Corner instead versus anything sports after one of my teams embarrassed me on national television.

I hope I’m not teaching him bad lessons. Ah well.

So if my friends are reading this and wonder why I don't like to leave my house sometimes when the game is on, this is why. I can be an insane person for 2-3 hours (or more, depending on the outcome of said game), and I'd rather you not see me in this state.

Story + Recipe: On becoming a father and making our house cocktail

Just let me live in my bat cave, yelling obscenities at my 75" Hoshitoshi, sipping multiple mezcal old fashioneds, sitting quietly for egregiously long stretches and throwing multiple fist pumps when something extraordinary happens.

I'm okay, I promise. (Something is wrong with me, I know.)