ARLINGTON, Texas — Sports fans, real ones, will understand what I’m talking about when I say: Winning teams aren’t the only things lacking from our sporting landscape as 2018 stumbles to a close. The winning is nice, yes, and in the year about to close, the lack of it was noticeable and it was aggravating.

But so was this:

The lack of any real, sustained heartbreak.

That’s how we can include the Yankees in our little sad-sack state of mind. The Yankees, you may recall, were actually good this year — they won 100 games, they actually spent a bit of time in first place in the AL East before the Red Sox started winning every day. They cruised to a playoff berth, had very little stress in sideswiping the Athletics in the wild-card game at Yankee Stadium.

Then they played four games against the Sox in the ALDS, lost three of them, and went along on their merry way. And here the thing: It didn’t hurt. It didn’t cause pain (like the last time they lost to the Sox in the postseason, to cite an example). There was anger, sure, and some of that residue remains. There was envy, no doubt, because one more time we had to sit idly by and watch New England add to its trophy case.

But heartbreak?

No. There was a fraction of time — the series tied 1-1, Game 3 tied 0-0 in the top of the second — when perhaps the pulse quickened and hopes were elevated. But then the Sox scored once in the second, twice in the third, seven times in the fourth and it was 10-0 on the way to 16-1 and … well, as interesting as the ninth inning of Game 4 may have gotten, that was really the last spasm. The rest was paperwork.

So, yes: Even the Yankees denied us the heartache that being good often provides. In the moment, that pain seems overwhelming, but it is in the retelling that the pain is almost uplifting, almost transformative.

Yankees fans know, because there is a difference between the way this season ended and the way 2001 ended, thanks to Luis Gonzalez, or the way 1960 ended thanks to Bill Mazeroski, or the way 1955 ended, thanks to Johnny Podres, or the way 1926 ended, thanks to Grover Cleveland Alexander.

And if Yankees fans know, you know everyone else knows, too. You know Giants fans can still recite chapter and verse from the blown snap game in San Francisco in 2003, and the Flipper Anderson Game in 1990, and from the Alan Ameche Game in 1958, the one most people call “The Greatest Game Ever Played,” the one my Giants-fan father called “the worst three hours I ever spent listening to a game on the radio.”

Mets fans? Goodness, they have an eclectic selection to wear: the 2016 wild-card game, Game 1 of the World Series, the Mike Scioscia Game, the Terry Pendleton Game, the entirety of the 1988 NLCS. Jets fans? How much time do you have? Just open the fire pit and throw in the Doug Brien Game, and the Gastineau Game, and the Bill Simpson Game, and that’s really just a starter set.

Knicks fans? They still get the bends whenever Reggie Miller comes on their television, even if it’s in a headset, because he only destroyed them a dozen different times, and Bad Reggie Memories are only the appetizer for them. We can go on, but we’ll spare the raw nerves of area hockey fans and of Nets fans still smarting from all the close-but-no-stogie moments during their glorious run in New Jersey at the start of the new century.

The common denominator of all of those awful memories?

The teams in question were all good enough to compete at an elite level, so their losses were hard enough to rip your guts out — even Yankees fans and Giants fans, who have had enough games go their way across the past 30 years. That’s what we need to get back to. If a team isn’t good enough for a parade, can’t we have a few good enough to provide us with some Alka-Seltzer moments?

Funny: In the dying days of 2018, St. John’s suffered exactly one of those kinds of losses Saturday night, victimized by a brutal referee call after blowing a late lead. In a crazy way, maybe that’s actually a good harbinger. For the Johnnies. And everyone else.

Vac’s Whacks

Quietly, and well under the radar, both Joe Mihalich at Hofstra and Jeff Boals at Stony Brook have their teams off to 11-3 starts, which makes this native Long Island basketball junkie quite happy as we inch toward the New Year.

It probably won’t be good-bye, and that’s unfortunate, but I would urge Giants fans to appreciate Eli Manning at MetLife Stadium one more time Sunday afternoon. You never know when a GM’s going to change his mind, after all, and it’s worth remembering Phil Simms never got to savor his final throw until years later, and he was wearing a shirt and tie under his No. 11 when that happened.

Knicks fans had every reason to believe they would have a season-long fit of being envious while looking at the Raptors, Celtics, and Sixers. But the Nets?

Every time I walk into Jerry Jones’ palace in Arlington, I get a little angrier about that ugly pile of venetian blinds known as MetLife Stadium, I won’t lie.

Whack Back at Vac

Howie Siegel: Moral victories don’t count for spit. Please tell that to Mr. Fizdale when you see him next.

Vac: I believe we have the title of the 2018-19 Knicks highlight video!

Kenneth Meltsner: I have never before seen one defense fold so much over five consecutive games. We have never before seen one team so adept at snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

Vac: What’s either hysterical (or horrific) is that Ken never actually uses the word “Jets” … but we know who he’s talking about.

@IamNYSports: They are saying St. John’s-Seton Hall was a sellout, but the upper deck has zero seats sold and they put black drapes up. So is it REALLY sold out? Still, I got my ticket and can’t wait. #SJUBB #WeAreNewYorksTeam

@MikeVacc: When folks are this enthusiastic about a college basketball game in the tri-state area, everything else is miscellany, is the way I look at it.

Richard Frome: Cole Porter is smiling somewhere at “lived in Arkansas” appearing in the lyrics of one your annual Christmas carols. That was beyond superb.

Vac: I must admit — I was especially proud of that one.