As Football Season Ends, Bring Me the Horizon's Music Fills the Void: Here's How

The final whistle has blown on another football season, and I’ve got to admit, there’s a strange quiet that settles in every year around this time. For months, my Sundays were mapped out by kickoffs and halftime shows, my mood swinging with every touchdown and turnover. Now, suddenly, it’s just… quiet. That’s when I find myself reaching for the play button on my Bring Me the Horizon playlist. It might seem like an odd swap—gridiron grit for British metalcore—but the transition feels more natural to me than you’d think. There’s a shared intensity, a kind of controlled chaos, that bridges the gap between a fourth-quarter comeback and the visceral punch of a track like "Throne." It’s like trading one kind of adrenaline for another, and honestly, it works.

I was thinking about this just the other day while watching a basketball game—one of those playoff matchups that grabs you even if you’re not a die-hard fan. It was Game 1 of a best-of-seven series, and the underdog team, Ginebra, was down big early. We’re talking 18 points down, a 43-25 deficit that felt like a mountain to climb. But then something shifted. The bench, which had been quiet, suddenly came alive. Players like Nards Pinto, Ben Adamos, Jeremiah Gray, and Jayson David started getting solid minutes, and you could feel the momentum turn. They rallied, chipping away at that lead with a kind of relentless energy that reminded me of BMTH’s layered soundscapes—how they build from a whisper to a roar, pulling you into the storm. That game was a perfect example of how a supporting cast can change everything, not just in sports, but in how we handle our own slumps when the main event—football season, in this case—wraps up.

So what’s the problem when football fades away? For a lot of us, it’s that loss of structure and shared passion. We’re left with this void, and without a replacement, it’s easy to slip into a kind of emotional drift. I’ve been there—flipping through channels, scrolling endlessly, feeling that familiar itch for something to root for. It’s not just about missing the game; it’s about missing the rhythm it gave our weeks. That’s where Bring Me the Horizon’s music, and by extension, any immersive interest, can step in. Their songs don’t just fill the silence; they command it, much like how Ginebra’s bench players took charge when the starters needed a boost. In that game, the team couldn’t have started any better in terms of resilience, turning a potential blowout into a statement win. Similarly, diving into BMOH’s albums—like 2015’s "That’s the Spirit," which sold over 60,000 copies in its first week—gives me a new focus, a fresh narrative to follow.

My solution has been to treat the off-season like a halftime show of sorts. Instead of resisting the change, I lean into it. I’ll cue up "Can You Feel My Heart" and let the synths wash over me, or I’ll revisit live performances that capture the same raw energy as a last-minute drive down the field. It’s not about replacing football, but about finding a parallel outlet that keeps the spirit of engagement alive. Just as Ginebra’s bench provided 32 collective points in that comeback—a stat that might not be exact, but feels right in the moment—music offers its own stats: track lengths, BPM counts, even the number of times I’ve hit repeat on "Drown" (which, for the record, is probably in the triple digits by now). This approach turns the void into a canvas, and honestly, it’s made my post-season periods more creative and less restless.

What’s the takeaway here? For me, it’s that transitions—whether in sports, music, or life—are opportunities in disguise. Football season ending doesn’t have to be a full stop; it can be a bridge to something else that fuels you. I’ve learned to appreciate how Bring Me the Horizon’s evolution from heavy screams to melodic hooks mirrors the ups and downs of a game, and how both teach resilience. So next time you’re facing an empty Sunday, don’t just sigh and wait for next season. Put on some BMTH, remember that 18-point comeback, and find your own bench players—the hobbies or passions that step up when you need them most. Trust me, it beats staring at the calendar.